fig. 1: the gentleman confronts a hostile mirage

hangin out with a cinderblock and a leaf

i got leftovers
in my ghetto-80s
soviet luggage
and some socks,
and this tough-actin
bomber jacket with
sable trim,
and a ghost rider comic
from 1995,
vol. 2 no. 57
On the Road With Wolverine.

i drew a cowboy with a skull
tattoo making
a 12-gauge hole
in a zombie torso
for my little brother.

drive your cart and plow over the bones of the dead

The bus driver Dolores has silver claws and a stud in her nose. She tells me where I'm goin. I wave goodbye to the pink gangsters. They roll another blunt and lean back, watching the girls commute their stuff around.

Dolores' patient voice crackles through the intercom: No smoking, no alcohol consumption, no drugs. If you do any of these you will be axed to get off the motorcoach. Hold on a second, we gonna have to turn around and go back to the garage. My windwhield wiper's actin up. This is gonna take 10 minutes y'all.

The fellers behind me are talkin crab legs: went down to China Town, got me some crab legs. That's what you gotta do, get some crab legs. Ain't no trip to China Town if you don't get some crab legs... One row up, a Mexican baby starts to cry but stops when he gets his bottle...I drank a Hagia Sophia that cost 200 dollars...

There's a red pontiac parked outside of the garage with iron grates in the windows. There's a billboard that says Got scrap metal? Get paid $$$.

rumble rumble
there not enuf leg
room
the engine purrs
large on a dogday
afternoon. st. louis
was the #1
most dangerous city
in america, but now
it's #2
beaten by...
and the winner is...
detroit! motor city
yo. the whole city
be purrin and rumblin
according to sumbumblin
danger danger
bark bark bark
the city turns people into
hungry paranoid
sniffing sniffling
K-9 units with eyes
like what's in your bag??

yellow-orange bloodshot souls
let us praise the highway patrol
hallelujah! just blink
and you'll be under
house arrest
with a dangerous detroit damsel
and infinite time
to purr and sizzle.
stir fry.

you can

chug hershey's syrup in a building made of bones.

no one beats my yummy yummy!

they wheeled me to the hospital
in a black mariah
my rhymes were so ill
the nurses caught on fire

now we all look pretty
in lobotomy city
sippin and slippin
like surly Scottie Pippen

true story

This woman gave birth to a purse. A designer purse, Dolce&Gabbana, real luxury, but you know, not a baby. The doctors ooohed and aaaahed. "Congratulations on your beautiful new purse!" the pediatrician said, handing it over to the mother, "Such a fabulous color!"

Well, a purse is still a kid, even if it is a purse. The purse was empty, except for those freshness packets. At night purse would cry. They didn't know what to feed it. Dad started buying things to put in it. Chocolates, phones, rings, cigarettes, magazines, what else do girls put in there?

"What school should it go to?" Mom would ask, cradling the Italian leather, "What instrument should it play?" "What languages should it learn?" "Koocheeekooocheekooo!"

vs.

When I was twelve we would sit around and draw pictures. I remember this older kid Owen drew a picture of me sitting on the ground in Jurassic Park drinking a can of Pepsi and flipping the bird to a velociraptor that was standing there with its tongue hanging out, in attack position, about to eat me. I thought that was the best drawing ever. It was all in 2d, everything in profile, black and white, and it was titled "Nikita vs. a Hungry Genetic Abomination."

Things I Noticed Today

Bycicle is spelled bicycle.
Some people can be happy talking on the phone
about sports all day.
On the street, everyone is looking at everyone, but pretending that they are not looking at anything.
Mona is very pretty.
People behind counters always take your money. They never give away anything, unless they think that you are very pretty.
Photos of gymnasts make me want to be a gymnast, but also make me want to stay away from gymnasts.

Twin Couches

The faster you go the flatter it gets. Makes us retardid. People young and old make damned faces behind the wheel. One woman looks like her face is pulled back with fish hooks. Her horse teeth glisten, tongue flaps in the air-conditioner gust.

Dead raccoons all over the road, a dead buck with its face half buried in the lawn of a used car dealership with a lawn ornament doe staring at him, immortal. I'm just resting, mothafucka!

God took away my computer, boy he came in through the window cut the screen right open sneakin cross the creakin floorboards makin noises like a decoy.

Aerodynamic are tarantulas who dance tarantella I tell ya.

Grow an aeroplane powered by all 8 legs and the crash sounds hairy Rachmaninov kaprrfchgroowoooffshhh.

The hairier the better, more louder and scarier than the most impenetrable filth; all it is is gulp gulp and suck and where the real maggots and parasites feed is out in the open for everyone to see.

Pipe the goods through cell walls and god if we don't feel our teeth rotting at each other's throats let the music blast our bellies full and rearrange clean the bugs off the windshield. The lives of insects are told in miles per hour and the splats they make.

Take sandpaper to your toes and steel wool to your skin for a fine finish. The best thing about neighbors is listening to them fuck. The people upstairs fuck like two grandmothers in a rocking chair contest. Hesitant creaking, weird muffled semi-moaning, semi-hard ons, semi-sucking, semi-sort-of-maybe-masturbation, saving up for retirement.

Warehouse wedding. The side door just barely open, and inside are 50 squaredancing vacuum cleaner horsemen. The polka, the electric slide, the line-dance, and the hip bone's connected to the 19th circle of hell. Cash. Love is a burnin' thing...

You may not agree with the thought about insects, but it's really about people, and it's only a semi-thought, semi-thawed.

say it's swell

say it’s swell
to sit and not
worry about getting
up or golly
it’s good
to lie down
and not think
about sitting
up or boy
it’s best
to break and not
bother working

Tar & Feather The Spic'n Span White Woman!

Laundry room mold pungent. The light bulb is left burning, too hot to touch. Otherwise a fuse blows and there are something like eight fuse boxes down there to dig through. Two quarters and a lighter (Get to the pockets, what's in the pockets???). Fuse boxes distribute electricity to the Villa while in the back room lurks the ghostface killah. I plunge my arm into the clogged tub filled with chilled foamy suds of green backwash. The drain is in the far right corner. Whatever is down there is soft, moist, filmy, like a possum that's been tenderized and filled up like a water balloon. I grab some of the stuff and it dissolves between my fingernails. I draw the arm out and up the length of it sits a gray river of wet lint and particles. The water level does not budge; it is still and opaque. I cannot see to the bottom of this gunky funk. The plungers, we have three. I chose Plunger #2, and the SLURP SLURP FLRP SLFRP BRFPFRRP BLRRFFRP PRFLPRURGHHRFP SLRFFSHSSS FLRR RPHHH SSHSH SHWOOOOOOOGHRRSSHFLURPF!
the water crawls down the drain leaving behind sediment records for the archeologists of the future. The plunger, a sacred artifact.

Very Rarely Seen Behavior

clean out your ears, boys and girls!
we all have Q-tips in our ears.
when you have
a thing
in your ear
you get
that look
on your face
unlike any other look
it can only mean
that you are
cleaning out
your ears

Vicious Little Dogs

A man in a dirty green jumpsuit and brown aviator sunglassees walks two of the smallest, most vicious-looking doogs ever. The dogs do not look downright vicious or deadly at first glance, but they project an insatiable hunger, the kind of quiet, blank rabidness one feels while being attacked by vampire bats that have had their senses scrambled by cellular signals and an unwavering invisible barrage of YouTube videos of people, desperate talking heads in twilighted blue-tinted bedrooms, lipsynching a song that is only good ironically.

One dog is on a leash. It looks like a bloated rat-kite being dragged along the pavement. The second dog looks like, and really is Mussolini, reincarnated as a tiny monstrosity. They could put dogs like this in vending machines in Japan and pass the whole thing off as an Internet hoax.

"No, these miniature dogs are not real. It was all a publicity stunt to get you to Tokyo so that we can shrink you and put you in a vending machine."

The public is bored with the same old inanimate variety. Cigarettes, sex toys, booze, bubble-gum, pulse-rifles, nano-bot cheeseburgers, we all have one. What we don't have, is one of you.

Mussolini is peeing on a wooden sign that says "Dobrovolny, Attorney At Law." Victor Dobrovolny has been trapped in the basement of his practice for two weeks. He has been taken over by a bacterium that he snagged on his vacation to the Congo, and is slowly mutating into a giant man-eating sloth. So far he has consumed his wife, who came to check up on him, and her Brussels Griffon, which kept barking even after it had been squeezed through his powerful, slimy new esophagus. Meanwhile, in the Congo, a certain kind of bird of paradise, after having brushed against Dobrovolny's head while pursuing a mate, has acquired Dobrovolny's likeness which, also being contagious, has spread to two hundred other indigenous bird species, so that 68% of all avians in the Congo now look like a middle-aged lawyer from Central Illinois.

Mussolini wonders, as he eats a frozen cicada exoskeleton in the gutter, who the other dog might be. Is it Stalin, maybe Trotsky or Zinoviev? It is definitely not Müller, but it is wearing a miniature Christmas sweater. "Why does he get a sweater," wonders the Italian dictator, "And not me?"

Past the miniature dog show walks a man with three VHS tapes that he got from the public library. The movies he got are Blow Up, The Bicycle Thief, and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. He must watch Beyond Thunderdome ten times in a row, because Tina Turner has been appearing in his dreams and brainwashing him. The other two movies he got simply as background filler to watch while he sharpens his stainless steel razor-boomerang.

As they pass each other, VHS diva zombie and the micro-dog man exchange glances, the kind where you examine someone from the inside out but pretend that you are really looking nowhere at all. VHS man peers into the brown aviator glasses of his enemy, trying to distinguish the position of his eyes, wanting to gauge how they jiggle, which way they vibrate, what color they are, while wanting simultaneously to scoop them out with a wooden soup spoon, throw them into an industrial-strength blender and make one of those viral "Will It Blend" commercials with the jumpsuit's optics, maybe throw in the dogs for effect.

The man in aviators studies his opponent thusly{
job: librarian;
psychological state: on drugs;
sum total: drug addict librarian;
articles: 3 VHS tapes;
titles: unknown;
sum total: probably porno;
clothing: fades jeans, color #CCCCCC, with bleach stains, t-shirt color #669999 with unrecognizable image and text;
haircut: buzz cut;
sum total: skinhead;
grand-total: drug addict librarian skinhead porno addict.
}

Gangs of Executives

hey baby, wanna sit by the sewer?

The suits travel in packs of ten and speak in unison, a harmony of polished voices. They wear noiseless white shoes inside of which the feet have been erased. A very complicated style, invisible, everywhere.
The mind is money pouring in. One suit climbs up into a tree chanting the formula in his briefcase and the tree becomes a 50-foot tall translucent woman with engorged lips. They burst and out comes a flying V of cruise missiles. Riding each missile is an investment banker wearing a radiation-proof pinstripe suit. The investment bankers know voodoo and telekenisis. They are fearless. Here they come.

A General Theory of Evil ( Copyright Violator )

The great city of ladies with rabies!
They multiply their looks Oh and they divide up the men jaws jaws tear chomp and the great big legs stomp.

Dear have you been hung by your antlers?

Sleep topless no need for the body just enough skin to make a poncho. Fly bite; wheels, glistening metal the women's skin is chrome alloy and their bones heavy lead, green paint stuck to the bones, caked on like money. The hair is nice nice very nice always nice not once or twice they got all kinds of conditioner conditioning it the length flawless the scalp blue and radiant. The ground bites the air. Amputees fly through the air legless witches stumps in britches. There is a story about the witch who went to the swamp to find frogs for her stew but the swamp was on Oprah's land and Oprah she had given every fucking frog in the swamp a new car so all the frogs got in their brand new cars and drove off. There was a toad left behind he was an amputee well the witch went ahead and drowned herself because you know fuck it, if this can happen here it's gonna happen everywhere and all these frogs were in a pile up on the Eisenhower Expressway that very night because frogs have little to no automotive skills.

Have it, get it, take it, want it, those muscles are nice wrapped in a white dress. The wind pushes clothes into and around your body and you look like a cellophane package all ready to disappear all taken opened all removed and drive fast that's all I'm sayin.

Round and round everything is round.

Compuker

pumpkin ape munch munchkin cape.
Zubra.

i love the horrifying siren that cries wolf every other tuesday.
water tower tumble over the rooftops someone's gonna have to mop.
no gargoyles in this town.
tha uno dos tres what's the boiling temperature of a gargoyle: 200-500°C.........

Slice Is A Delicious Orange Drink I Haven't Had In Years

Don't Panic Picnic

swoop swoop! sandfaced red sun sink wooosh wooosh! applause.
billions of years wooooooooooooosh.
buried in the beach with a crab named Batman.
sunglass-eatin ocean
devil Neptune
stomp spyin
on the neighbors
with toy binoculars.
2 kinds of neighbors like potatoes.

get sexy quick, city boy! don't ask all them questions.
woooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh...
everything tastes sweet grenades red grenades orange cannons white bayonets.

There Will Be No Statement

Larry tells me the Rebel was a tunnel rat.
Larry's teeth look like Mayan ruins.
Larry's yellow cane.
No shit, granpa nazis charlatans Persia forever.
Meet me in Afghanistan.

Save somewhere else.

Cyborg Massage

One hundred baboons la la la hundred baboons
behind a bullet-proof desk.

Bogosity
Bogucity
Bogatron 5000
Wordatron FX.
Greasy armpits bloody earholes
blind date.

These muthafuckin roofers are smashing and gnashing 9 to 5 tearin shit up.

Landlord with the espionage. She repells down the side of the house bugeyed like a lemur.
"You got squatters hidin in there?!"

I jump off the fence and land, a gruesome grinnin monkey.

Grotesquery

While all the city was under mind-control time,
sludgeleggedly sauntering across crossings.

Chinese Express: 217.328.1818
Call if you want Chinese Food.

Mahaneys Dogs

mud-treading treadmill body
tongue
hanging out like paparazzi
eyeballs
lickin horsefaced hotty
thoroughbred lovin Lottie
16 hot-blooded
hands
& all white.

Preach your god: Free Hotdogs

Peripheral missiles strapped to griffins aimed at your visuals.

The lady has all the catalogs.

Two dreams.

First the one I dreamt last night. A car chase in the American desert, then Alabama, and back to the desert, New Mexico or Arizona. The car is coated in white dust, I am coated in white dust. And then I am watching a movie on a couch with

Maybe I’ll remember more.

The second dream.
I strangle a cop. A hybrid world, a composite of Normal, Gotham City -- the one from Batman the Animated Series -- futuristic 1930s Art Deco, and Reboot, computer animated, purple, ones and zeroes. How did it start? I’m flying a hovercraft through the city. It looks like the land-speeder from Star Wars. Everything is desaturated, almost black and white. Three people in the car. There could be a fourth person. We’ve committed a crime, created lawlessness. livin’ vicious lascivious. Point-blank range hollow-point with the seriousness. What’s your name? I strangle myself and wake up.

the windows taped off,
the carpets laminated.
drunken cowboys
in minivans race around
the track at 300
miles
per
hour.

Roog on loop, mixing rum with chocolate milk, splicing alleys together, running out of clothes.

St. Joe
The Trestle

Sarge.
Sarge's Bus.

Sarge was an old Vietnam Vet, or he said he was. He had this shack next to the railroad tracks and a rusted colorless windowless schoolbus filled with broken glass and pepsi cans. Little kids would go fishing over by Sarge's shack and Sarge would invite the little kids over to his house and offer them drugged pepsi. Then he would take them to the bus.

Sarge would sit in his shack, transmitting on a ham radio, cleaning his guns, when all of a sudden,
"Sarge," the Bus would say,
"What? Who's that?"
"Sarge, it's the Bus."
"Who?"
"The Bus, Sarge. It's the Bus. I'm hungry, Sarge. Bring me something to eat."

"Where'd you go on your motorcycle, Mike?"

"Everywhere, and very indirectly at that."

Stop, Drop, and Giggle

Men only cook spaghetti, says the banker woman. I gotta a handful of whateverol I gotta deposit. It'll credit the next business day 12am. The banker woman has quick fingers and green face but you never see the bottom half of her body it's hidden behind the window she could be a horsefly from the waist down and she knows how much you got. Have a nice day.

wanda went to
the dentist
got her hologram
smile
she got her tonsils removed
they were weighing
her down.
the tonsils
weren't havin
it
followed
her home
crawled back
in her
face when
she was alone.

get your frozen tundra
off of my bread
get the cabbage patch
off the sidewall
get the safari hat
from the marshlands

they beamed up
A WHALE.

The Episode Knew Exactly When To End

Get me Mrs. Gettysburg. Team work, that's how we solve this dilemmaaaahhhh...chooo!
Germ warfare critters livin in your hair. That girl has the same shoes. The table is round and lopsided shuckuckuck frrrrrlonk.

Smiles = sky miles.

Gellatin it's not
no sin
gigguhlin like gellatin
livin in
sin
gle bedroom wit
h
no locks
insertin foxes
into boxes got you backed
against the rocks defrocked
upsettin your socks
sleep on
the hammock
dontcha wontcha wanna
in the future
and up
suction cup up
the structure infiltrate
chicken soup can't be late
blow! it's hot
putcha pretty friend on the phone
"What's your name?"
"Hatchetface / Leatherface / Gargoyle Leslie / Grizzly Betsy / Fangface Fiona"
gettin me all over thee
thus puss

волосы голоса волосатые
быки
кипят чайники

123
"Sternface Sissy Cynthia"

The couple upstairs is flirting. The man sounds like Yellow Bastard and the girl has mannerisms. They all over the couch like loose change. mint condition.
Antelopes answer abstract analogies airborne attacks asked at Anchorage Big bang bug
blow! ( it's still hot ) cutcher calves carve cows in Compton. Done.

SPAZBA. WIN INSTANTLY.

For breakfast a burning skillet, with exclamations. Bread and meat wedged together, glued to ketchup and mustard. Porkchop family pointing fingers. Blow it up to smithereens!

ANTS! I am sitting on a hive, drawing pancakes.
All that matters is the angle.

Dance Against Stairs

Greasy pincers far from chubby her mouth crooked up and down munching Gibby the 3-Legged Cat. Expressionless. Bald but for the horn from the bottom of the forhead that sprouts hairs to the ceiling eyes on the split-end tips slurp conditioner Pantene Pro V like #2 watered-down kamikaze moan. Here we jut out speedy cockroach walks up metal staircase castrated.

bees after my roast beef
3D sensor array complete with labels. Stealing women from the oven.

Do you hear it? That is the Gulf of Mexico, and it is shooooom..... shoooooooom....shoooooooom.... The land of unstoppable waves, and sharks. Their dorsals surface twenty feet away, sniffing out my bloody knees. SHARK! Noiseless, stealth, F-22s fly overhead, sharks in the air. Shark everywhere.

Eat your blouses and khaki jean short sweaters! Come live with the sharks. My red babboon ass welcomes you!

Hyah! There! Slap! Yes! Into the water, gurgle gurgle!

Dantes falls from the Chateau d'If. Shoooooooooooooooooooooooom dishwasher liquid.