You speak
and it’s a leap
of faith
that someone won’t
pop you.
In the nose.
Author: admin
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Making Noise
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Those nails
Pity poor Pol Pot’s cat.
Hitler’s hamster.
Fed by this thing.
Stroked by this thing.
By this skin
those nails
they scratch
that spot.
Pity poor Pol Pot’s cat. -
Smaller, slender, grave
Other people have smaller fingers
slender grave pincers
and they move fragments around.
The smallest
reposition dust to achieve a fine result.
Not children. I’m not
talking about children or
woodland creatures.
Other grown ups.
Living in crash pads
with thatched chairs and
acoustic proto-guitars
hung by the door.
Look at them. Look
at their work. -
Wall pile
Wet ride this morning.
Chalk bricks trying to absorb
pulling it in cold wood
old wood.
Paper mats.
His wet feet uncovered, yes?
Flat cats lick his feet.
Vapor socks.
Lick sneaker pump.
Lick vapor swoosh.
And those feet stir.
Now he’s caressing some space saying:
“Hi. I will stab you in your leg.”
Really? Well.
I don’t see a knife.
Hopping past.
Hoping stone
soon dry
out. -
The At Swim-Two-Birds Deathmarch Punt
It’s funny, when this one started I remember thinking “golly, this may be too easy for a deathmarch.” But for whatever reason, this is the deathmarch that has brought the highest percentage of folks low. I’m not sure how many we’re down to now — mebbe 10-14 or so folks reading along? Jinkies!
Anyways, with apologies to them what’re actually caught up or even ahead, I’m going to declare this week a punt so that what folks are looking to catch up can take one last noble stab at it. Meanwhile, I’ll put our ASTBDM scientists to work trying to develop an equation that adequately reflects this developing phenomenon. Feel free to use this comment thread (if you’re so inclined) to rage against the injustice, yes: rage! against the injustice!
Next week: Once more with feeling, see you at the bottom of page 209 (Dalkey)….. -
Unphotographed pets
held with small fingers
slips of bone
sometimes lose their names
change hue
as six dead gerbils shade
to four black mice
as two turtles become a snake
and goldfish replicate. -
Three new Big Star tunes
If you’re a Big Star fan (and our market research shows that 31% of cv’s readership self-identify as “Big Star fan” or “fan of Big Star” or “person who is or would like to be identified as ‘Big Star fan’ or ‘fan of Big Star’”), you may already know that they’ve got a new record coming out later this month. But did you know that three full songs from that long-playing disc are now legally available for play right here?
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The At Swim-Two-Birds Deathmarch, Week 4
I am now (ack! agack!) a week+ behind. And miles and miles and miles from home. But still reading along. Still loving it. Just got up to the legend of Jem Casey, Poet of the Pick. Gold, and nothing but the shiny stuff. Now don’t wait for me. Onward! Onward!
Next week: I can only hope I’ll see you all at the bottom of page 209 (Dalkey), where the Pooka himself sez it best and sez it all: “We are honoured that you accept our poor offerings…You are very kind”…. -
Not that you…
Not that you need me to say this
and anyways, who am I to say this
besides which, knowing you,
as I do
you’ve probably already done this
or else are getting geared up ya see
really
what I’m trying to say is:
please consider giving
what you can
to a charity to aid
Katrina refugees.
For example (and this is just one example): The Red Cross. -
The At Swim-Two-Birds Deathmarch, Week 3
And then before ya know it, it’s Week #3.
Continuing a longstanding Deathmarch tradition, I’m now a tad behind. In good company there, from what I hear — a few stalwart marchers have had a little trouble getting their books and will be joing us mid-trail. Still having a swell time though and hope youse are being likewise regaled. Cowboys too? Oh come on now.
Next week: Let’s meet up at the bottom page 168 (Dalkey), right in the middle of a “glorious extravagance.”