Again the trees and streets
that are familiar to me,
certain shapes hanging stark against the sky
the curving lines that carry me back
to my history, my haunting grounds.
Here I find myself free from
work-a-day toils and wrapped warm
in the eyes of so many lost dear ones
yet inexplicably come to a crux:
A speechless hermit in cowl and splinter
of half-moon scythe- the words stopped
up with a black rag and all old ceremonies
falter and fall flat into dead space.
He is so small in the hospital bed
on Christmas night- uneaten, inedible
hospital food on the tray nearby
and the television tugs at your chin
as though attached by an invisible filament.
Flashing lights in your periphery
but my eyes are on his face
(so unmasked when I walked in)
and my hands in his hair
(wren’s wing, finch silver)
his hands so slender,
slightly wrinkled fingertips
twining around mine.
What is it I feel seeing him here,
in this unexpected place
like my mother was,
plugged with tubes, and wanly smiling?
There are no words
for that
kind of fear.
The road seems to double back
and close in on itself, serpentine
coils continually circling
and the horizon elusive,
still a tired metaphor.
Cobbled together proposals
for a higher resolution,
a sparing change in definition.
I could see myself going far
away from here and there.
I could see myself becoming
like a small, sharp knife
or the woman who disappeared.
Who can tell me which would be better?
(Incidentally, a copacetic and contenting holiday to you all..
Contrary to how it might read, all is relatively well. It’s mostly peaceful on the outside, at least. My family is sweet and makes me laugh.
We drink too much coffee and play Mhing.
It’s extinct which is even better.
Nothing connects, with all honours indeed.)

A cold room, filled with no less than
six large bouquets of white lilies,
red roses, cedar, pine and fir boughs,
laurel leaves and delphinium blue.
For the holly she bears a berry
as white as the milk.
My house, though it is still
a labyrinth of upended furniture,
smells divine,
like winter woods.
The flowers make it feel like home, finally.
I rediscovered the best secret free flower depot ever,
after months of neglect..
How I missed having rooms and rooms filled
with sweet-smelling blossoms!
Images of Savonarola entreating
the women of Florence to repent
and cast their false hair and jewels
into the bonfire.
Frumenty, verjuice, boar’s heads, salmagundy
-Lovely enchanting language,
sugar-cane, honey of roses,
whither wilt thou flie?
The beautiful and the innocent
have no enemy but time.
Children remain children forever
when held in a box or a dream.

A friend of mine is looking for a roomate.
This is his advertisement for such.
Any takers?
BI-RECTANGULAR ROOM SEEKS ROOMMATE FOR ONE WHO RENTED APARTMENT XXX BLOCKS FROM HERE BECAUSE THE LIGHT WAS SO BEAUTIFUL STREAMING IN A DIFFERENT COLOR EACH MORNING (HE GUESSED — AND IT WAS TRUE ONE DAY HE AWOKE TO A HAZE OF PEACH BILE) AND HE COULD HEAR THE TRAINS CHOKING AND THE MOST RETARDED OF CHURCH BELLS AND SO HE SWOOPED IN LIKE A BLIND OSPREY BECAUSE HE COULDN¹T REALLY AFFORD IT (TO PAY FOR HIS PRAY — AND WHO RENTS GAME AND THEN BURROWS INSIDE ITS FLESH TO KEEP WARM ANYWAY, WHO BUT EVERY ONE OF US? OH WHAT A NUMBING HORROR, WHAT A BORE, THE BLOOD POOLING IN OUR FINGERTIPS, WHAT¹S HAPPENED TO US ALL, WE USED TO GO BLIND ECSTATICALLY STARING INTO EACH OTHER, ABSOLUTELY DAZZLED NOW WE¹RE SUCKED DRY BY THIS HOMOGENIZATION, OUR MUMMIFIED SOULS COLLAPSING INTO DUST BORN ON THIS WIND OF TEPID GENOCIDAL CONFUSION, WHITING OUT) BUT HE WAS NOT THINKING CLEARLY, NOT REALLY A CONSISTENTLY RATIONAL PERSON, TO BE HONEST DAZED AT THE LOSS OF HIS CASTRATI (IN THE FIRE) AND CHERUBS (SEIZED AND AUCTIONED BY THE POLICE) AND THE LOOMING BANKRUPTCY HEARING WHERE THE COURT WILL TAKE UP THE DRIPPING CAUL AROUND ITS SCALED THROAT AND SQUEAL LEERINGLY, NO PUNISHMENT TOO SEVERE TO RECTIFY SUCH CRIMINAL ACTS AS BASE SURVIVAL AND WANTING TO BE LOVED, AND LEAPING FROM THE STAND AND STRUTTING ABOUT THE PROSCENIUM ON ITS COCKFEET EJACULATING GREEN PUS THAT IS IMMEDIATELY PRESSED INTO CURRENCY AND DRIED ON THE LINE NEXT TO THE HOLLOW SKINS OF ANYONE YOU THINK YOU HOLD DEAR, AND THE SEMI-UNSUCCESSFUL MANIFOLDUALITY — ALWAYS PAINFULLY SEXUAL: BEING IN AND OF EXISTENCE, AND THE BREAKUP OF HIS LONG-STANDING ROMANCES WITH SEVERAL COUNTRIES WHO LOVED HIM AND LIKED FUCKING HIM AND CLAIMED THEY COULDN¹T STAY UNIFIED AND UNWARLIKE WITHOUT HIM BUT WHO WOULD NOT AGREE TO LET DOWN THEIR BORDERS AND THERE¹S NO ROOM FOR DEFENSIVENESS LIKE THAT IN A RELATIONSHIP EFFECTING INFINITE NUMBERS AND HE¹S BEEN FORCED TO GRIND THEM UNDER HIS HEEL FOR THEIR OWN GOOD AND NOW EVEN HIS STRONG PHYSICAL ATTRACTION FOR CERTAIN FORMS OF ARCHITECTURE HAS SOURED AS HE REALIZES ENTERING ANY ³OWNED² ROOM IS NOT ONLY PAYING TO LITERALLY ENTER A WHORE OR A WHORIFIED SPACE BUT PENETRATING THEM WHILE AT THE SAME EXACT MOMENT EJACULATING INTO YOUR TRUE FETISH FULFILLMENT: THEIR PIMP STABBING ALL THE MONEY YOU FORKED OVER TO THEM (BELIEVING THEY LOVED YOU JUST A LITTLE, NEEDING TO) RIGHT OUT OF THEIR SPIT-CRUSTED HAND AND BEATING THEM WITH A SHOVEL IN FRONT OF YOU WHILE YOU LAUGH AND LAUGH (WHEN IN WORLD, WHEN IN AMERICA, WHEN IN ROME…) AND THEN ALL THREE OF YOU SHRUG YOUR SHOULDERS (IF YOU HAVE SHOULDERS), LOOK THE OTHER WAY, AND DIVE IN AGAIN, AND THE DIZZINESS AND LOSS OF BLOOD AND SELF-IMMOLATION SHOOK HIM AND THE MADNESS BOUND HIM AND CHUCKED HIM ACROSS THE ROOM LIKE A DIRT CLOD AGAIN AND AGAIN TILL HIS BONES SHATTERED AND MOSS GREW OUT FROM HIS TEETH AND THE INSTINCTUAL UNQUESTIONING BELIEF IN THE DEATH OF ALL HIS CHILDHOOD FRIENDS LEFT HIM IN GLOWERING LONGING FOR A TOTALLY INVENTED PAST (BECAUSE HE NEVER RETURNED THEIR LETTERS AND CALLS — DUE TO HIS STAGGERING, WONDROUS AGONY — AND NOW THEY HAVEN¹T CALLED AND SO BETRAYED HIM UTTERLY AND ALL THEIR TERRIBLE HUMILIATING DEATHS ONE BY ONE — GOT HIS BELT BUCKLE CAUGHT ON THE MIRROR OF A SPEEDING CAR, SLIPPED ON OWN GREASE, WHAT IF I HIT MY HEAD WITH THIS HAMMER, WHAT IF I SHOOT MY HEAD — IN ANY CASE FAR PREFERABLE TO THE HOPELESS SENSE OF ABANDONMENT).
ABOUT YOU, MY SWEET: PREFERABLY YOU SHOULD BLAME THE WORLD AND OTHERS BEFORE YOURSELF AS A FIRST RESORT IN ALMOST ALL SITUATIONS BEFORE GIVING IN TO YOUR SELF-LOATHING AND SELFISHLY TAKING THE PROBLEMS OF THE WORLD ONTO YOUR SHOULDERS AND NOT LETTING ME FORGET IT, LIMPING AROUND ME LIKE A SYPHILITIC BITCH MUTTERING, I¹M ATLAS, NOT YOU, I¹M NO GOOD AT ANYTHING AND NO ONE CARES. THE ROOM WILL NOT LET YOU LIVE UNLESS YOU ADMIT TO HAVING AT LEAST A YEOMAN-LIKE EFFICIENCY AT SOMETHING YOU HAVE A VAGUE AFFINITY FOR; OTHERWISE IT WILL SUCK ALL THE AIR OUT OF ITSELF AND THE FLOOR WILL CAVE IN TO DROP YOU INTO A PIT OF STAKES, WILD BEASTS, AND QUICK LIME (BUT AT LEAST YOU WILL SEE ALL THE HEROES FROM ALL MYTHOLOGIES WHO HAVE EVER FALLEN INTO STAKED PITS STARING HOLLOWLY UP AT YOU, THE WORMS IN THEIR EYES WAVING, WELCOME LOVER, COMRADE.
PREFERABLY YOU SHOULD BE FURIOUS AT THE WORLD FOR CALLING YOU INSANE JUST BECAUSE YOU¹RE PASSIONATE ABOUT YOUR INTERESTS AND ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT LEARNING AND CHANGING AND EVOLVING OUT OF THIS HUMAN MESS INTO A MUCH MORE EXCUSABLE SPECIES, ANYTHING, EVEN A BERETTA OR KALASHNIKOV, A SPECIES THAT
IS MORE EMPATHETIC AND PEACEFUL
STOPS MAKING EXCUSES AND ADMITS IT¹S AN ANIMAL AND HUNTS AND KILLS ACCORDING TO ITS NECESSITY.
MARKS ITS TERRITORY, IF IT MUST, ON THE OUTSIDE OF THE BUILDING BUT NOT INSIDE THE APARTMENT.
HAS A DEEP APPRECIATION FOR NOT KNOWING.
WHETHER BATHING IN GORE, TREMBLING AT A KISS OR CUCKOLDING CRUELTY, CEASES TO DECEIVE ITSELF.
PREFERRED: SOMETIMES CALM WOMEN OR SOMETIMES EMASCULATED MEN THOUGH IF A REFUSAL OF GENDER SPECIFICATION IS YOUR CAKE, HAVE SOME CAKE. NO BUTCHERY WITHOUT PRIOR ARRANGEMENT, NO BOILING ROADKILL IN THE KITCHEN, THE STENCH IS TOO OVERPOWERING, PLEASE BELIEVE ME, SO WE WILL BE FORCED TO FIND SOMEWHERE ELSE. HAVE A LOVE FOR BONES, EXPERIMENTAL EVERYTHING, WORK THAT MEANS SOMETHING, CHANGE THE BODY CHANGE THE BRAIN MODERN JAPANESE DANCE ANTI-DANCE, BLOOD, TRANSFORMATION, INVOCATION, THE RAW, THE NAKED, THE FORGOTTEN, THE NERVE ENDINGS, THE IGNORED, THE INSANE, THE THROWN AWAY, THE SHUT OUT, THE INVISIBLE. TO THE FUCKING GRAVEYARD WITH THE TYRANNY OF CATEGORIES CANNONS STATIC DEFINITIONS AND IMPREGNABLE SYSTEMS OF BELIEF DEATH TO KNOWING DEATH DEATH DEATH MAY THE PROFESSIONS CHOKE ON THEIR OWN BLOATED GUTS MAY WE DANCE IN THEIR BLOOD AND MAKE MUSIC WITH THEIR BONES DEVOUR THEM AND SHIT THEM INTO ANGELS
DO NOT HAVE A TV THAT GETS CHANNELS, THE ROOM ATTACKS TVS THAT GET CHANNELS WITH A HATCHET AND FLINGS THEM AT THE BIRDS SCREAMING STATIC AND OBLITERATING V-FORMATIONS THUS FACE-FUCKING WEATHER PATTERNS CAUSING HURRICANES IN THIRD-WORLD COUNTRIES WHERE THEY ARE ALREADY DYING COVERED IN SORES AND BLEEDING PURPLE MAGGOTS FROM THE ASS AND SEVERED LIMB STUMPS BECAUSE OF YOU AND YOUR MOTHERFUCKING TELEVISION IN THE FIRST PLACE YOU GREEDY ALL-CONSUMING LITTLE SCUMBAG I LOVE YOU BUT I¹M SERIOUS. IF YOU TREAT PEOPLE LIKE PIECES OF MEAT AND I CATCH YOU, I WILL FORCE YOU TO EAT THEM TO MAKE SURE WE REALLY UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER AND IF YOU TREAT PEOPLE LIKE PIECES OF MEAT AND DO NOT FOLLOW THROUGH AND DO NOT EAT THEM, I WILL SLAUGHTER YOU AND EAT YOU LIKE THE PIECE OF MEAT YOU ARE.
JUST BECAUSE EVERYBODY DOES IT AND HAS TO DO IT OR MAKES SOMEONE DO IT FOR THEM DOES NOT MAKE IT OK.
SO SAYING, IT¹S ABOUT 300.00 A MONTH PLUS HALF OF ALL THE OTHER STUFF, WE¹LL TRY TO WORK IT OUT, IT¹S A TOUGH BUSINESS ALL THE WAY AROUND SO THERE¹S NO REASON TO TAKE IT OUT ON EACH OTHER, NOT HERE, NOT NOW, WHERE WE¹RE ALREADY HANGING ON TO EACH OTHER SO DESPERATELY, TRYING TO CLING TO LIFE, I KNOW THE VULTURES ARE GOING TO KEEP PICK PICK PICKING AND THE HYENAS ARE TEARING AWAY BUT I LOVE YOU.
PREFERRED: THAT YOU WERE ME AND THAT YOU WERE LOOKING FOR ME.
940-0505

So, sometime in the night tomorrow I shall depart towards Texas-
Homeward bound, only it’s not really- anymore.
Ostensibly, this is to get an echocardiogram
for this mysterious heart murmur
and other Doktor visits, since
come January, I will be insurance-less.
A terrifying prospect.
Also, I’ll go see Death in June.
Should be interesting.
My immune system is a strong beast,
ready to fight off any virulent intruders
with a fierce intention and dauntless fortitude.
Repeat 100 times until it’s true.
Bad dreams of a good friend re-organizing (i.e. tearing apart)
my carefully categorized bookshelves. It took me days.
Somehow there are more books here than when we moved.
Pages ripped out, of the Occult review from 1923
glued on sheets of computer printout paper.
Reminds me of the bad stalker I had-
I still find notes scrawled in the pages
of favorite books even years later.
He’s in prison now for bludgeoning his mother to death.
This is true. Good thing I was in Indonesia at the time.
Back to the dream:
Someone was giving away kittens.
Vague recollections of breaking into an army base,
covert calculations, scanned identification cards.
I go into the city, it’s like Chicago in the 30’s.
I go into Collier’s department store-
their logo is a little girl with a bunny head.
Mostly they sell comic books.
I ask the saleslasy for merchandise with the
Collier bunny-girl logo, but there isn’t any.
She sends me down a moldy corridor
to the wing of Collier’s reserved for
the elderly and infirm.
A boy is giving his aged mother a bath
in a tub black with mold and grime.
She is raving, and keeps spreading her legs
and wailing.
This is disturbing, so I wake up.
Ride the waves of nausea.

1. Our Primary Put-downs
2. D.S. Penhaligon
3. Piltdown Man, remember that one?
Every few seconds another wave of rain comes roaring down.
It’s almost tidal, enormous and simultaneously comforting/terrifying.
The rains here.
Recovering from brutal awakenings, remnants of dreams swarming under the pillows.
Cats and more cats. The too-small kittens in the vending machine,
encased in plastic, mewling and drooling.
I couldn’t cut them out with a knife.
Trash-and-treasure-collecting, inane arguments
over rare red woven cloaks.
I had wanted to go the racetracks today, for Opening Day.
This is what one does in New Orleans for Fanks-jibbing, though I’ve never-
You get dressed to the nines, men in fancy suits, everyone in hats.
You gather round the paddock and place bets and cheer.
I had a hat in mind, but it really required the perfect slim black suit,
which at the moment, I lack. Back-seamed stockings. A veil.
In the other dream, I was plotting the acquisition of plastic fruits and veg
to adorn my cornucopia-esque coiffure, a few mushroom birds to top it off.
And Cosmo’s great-great grandmother’s wedding gown, in slate blue, faded-
A structural masterpiece, the bustle and train
an architect or set designer’s wet dream.
After that, nothing in my closet was really acceptable-
for the opera, yes alright- But to the races?
I’ve been before, to see the horses high-strung and wheezing from
bleeder medication, flanks agleam and white foamy mouths.
But today, everyone there is sodden and cramped,
the horses slipping around in the mud.
Inside is fluxus and ramble. I am still slightly displaced, diasporadic-
left in a box or on a dusty shelf and then forgot myself.
Warring daily with belligerent appliances-
the icebox is a pit o’ stench even
after four hours of bleach and paint.
The hot water is less than adequate.
My hidey-hole, my sensory deprivation
my sacred aqueduct is a blasted furnace.
Scars on his neck. All of them
“uniformly various and variously uniformed”
I’m still coughing up black lung frogs
and planning my getaway.
Eating horse-head shaped gingerbread
and manzanilla con anis.
Thank god for the cuban grocery on the corner.
The rain.
This sound.

The excerpt represents the core issue or deciding factor on which you must meditate, and is drawn from Thuvia, Maid of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs:
“Sire; as, in the end, it always was.
A cold smile supplanted the terror that had dilated his eyes. He turned his steps toward the tower. He would see her before he set out upon the journey that was to blind his father to the fact that the girl was already in Dusar.
Quietly he passed in through the secret way, ascending a spiral runway to the apartment in which the Princess of Ptarth was immured.
As he entered the room he saw the girl leaning upon the sill of the east casement, gazing out across the roof tops of Dusar toward distant Ptarth. He hated Ptarth.”
-Thuvia, Maid of Mars

And now at last- through trials and terrors and perils untold we have made our way
from the goblin castle into the gingerbread galleon, the interior of which is
a labyrinthine cavern of boxes and upended furniture and belongings scattered everywhichway..
I am more exhausted than I can ever remember being,
and muscles I didn’t know I had are making their prescence known
in a most aggravating and vociferous manner.
Sleeping on the floor doesn’t really help worksore bones either-
Why did I give away our bed? Oh yes, one less thing to move..
This morning I walked out the front door of our new abode
and was surprised to see..
A giant sized pig snuffling around in the green shoots.
A big black and white bristly one, more of a boar-sow
who sported large and quite intimidating tusks in her toothsome grin!
She grunted at me, and I backed away, remembering the tales of
the villagers in Thailand gored by female boars when urinating in the bushes..
I had performed my own outdoor ablutions in the teak forests of Chiang Mai
with the only greatest trepidation..
I could only stand on the street laughing at this unlikely spectacle
until a neighbour came out her door and I pointed and we stood there
and laughed some at the giant pig together for awhile.
Then I walked around knocking on doors asking if anyone
had misplaced a giant pig.
Welcome to the neighbourhood! Oh yes, and I live up there-
Is that your pig, perchance?
Very odd, that.

She appeared to me tonight, the Madonna Oriflamma

Was it she that marked me thus, or the work of the taciturn acupuncturist,
with his cups and electric pins and moxa?

I visited his house in New York. His paintings are there, his legacy..

Nikolaj Konstantinovich Roerich – Roerich Pact
You should visit it sometime.

Curses!
I am not comprehending exactly how I could have
become so disgustingly ill right before
so many enjoyable past-times have been planned.
I cannot enjoy my halloween candy, or any other
form of pleasant debauchery, for that matter.
I have a day and a half to be restored fully
to my non-sniffling, non-hacking former self.
I am against this latest development entirely.
I would like to submit a formal complaint
to board of directors and also to the
insufferable beasties that are wreaking havoc
on my apparently delicate immune system.
Damn you all, evil turquoise devils!
Fie on all of this sicky business, I say.
I’m holed up with Andrei Rublev,
and a bunch of dirty, Aurolac huffing street kids
from the subway in Bucharest.
And none of them are making me feel any better,
not in the slightest.
Nor are several kinds of lonzenge, many juices,
no less than four different homeopathic medicines,
raw garlic gloves, and an array of vitamins.
I still feel like a pig shat in my head.
Fuckity fuck-fuck.

I’m in a filthy, filthy mood.
Hackles up in full flower,
my latent misanthropy is at an all-time high.
The only thing I really want to do right now
is sit on someone’s chest and punch them in the face
until they have no more teeth left.
Honestly, though- normally (meaning, when I’m unprovoked)
I am a very kind and friendly person.
But not just now.
Also, I’ve got to design intertitle cards
for the silent film we made, which is being edited now.
I’ve been hunting for inspiration and the right fonts,
successfully avoiding the dreadful toil of packing, still yet.
Here’s a game I invented:
“Which Silent Film Intertitle Illustrates You Best?”
The Coward – The gay day — the Gray day — when War’s finger beckoned and men obeyed, stepping across destiny’s threshold toward the battle-reddened horizon where Death and Glory stood hand in hand.
Hoodoo Ann -She invents a test of cleanliness that was never found in the pages of the Homely Ladies Journal.
Intolerance – “We must destroy or be destroyed.”
The Ocean Waif – “He lifted the stone. There lay the skeletons of a dozen men—”
The False Faces – “So – you verdammtes Prussian schwein– I find you thus!”
Orphans of the Storm – Inflamed by Henriette’s virginal beauty, the Marquis orders La Fleur to abduct her at any hazard.
The Prisoner of Zenda – “While you’re unhung, Hentzau, hell lacks its master!”
Three Ages – Somehow he vaguely remembered that somewhere — sometime — somebody made friends with some lion by doing something to some of its paws.
Girl Shy – He was so afraid of girls that he made a secret study of them, and the more he studied them the more he feared them.
The Sea Hawk – “Until you give me satisfaction, I’ll horsewhip you every time we meet!”
Romola – “For the love of St. Giovanni, woman, throw your own vegetables!”
The Unholy Three – “Tweedledee! Twenty inches! Twenty years! Twenty pounds! The Twentieth Century Curiosity!”
Parisian Love – “You snuff-smelling, absinthe-gargling Frochard – I am leaving you now! Forever!”
The Black Pirate -It was the custom of THESE PIRATES to SUBDUE their prey, LOOT the ship, BIND their captives and BLOW THEM UP.
The Bat – “For twenty years I’ve stood by you through Socialism, Theosophism and Rheumatism – – but I draw the line at Spookism!”
Tramp, Tramp, Tramp – At the Crossroads of the World – shall he take the Primrose Path or the Easiest Way?
Midnight Faces – “The cat is dead!”
Laugh, Clown, Laugh – “Count Ravelli, your spells of uncontrollable laughter are due to a life of self-indulgence.”
The Wedding March – “I’ll kick his glass-eyed mug to goulash! –”
Our Dancing Daughters – “Wouldst fling a hoof with me?”
A Lady of Chance – “I never realized how uninteresting cement was until I met you.”
The Iron Mask – “Your own damnable invention will be your doom.”
The Scarlet Letter – “Wood-pussy!”
The Man from Beyond – Then loomed what seemed the fancy of a fevered brain! A ship! An ancient square-rigged hulk, phantom-like on the rim of the frozen world, the plaything of the ever-shifting ice
Hypocrites – The people are shocked by the nakedness of truth
Young Romance – “IF YOU TURN YOUR HEAD, I’LL BLOW IT OFF.”