mmmmclxvii

Egyptian Skivvies

Wrap me
up in your
funny un
dies like

a mum
my. This,
I decree,
could

very
well
be the
right

way to
eternity.

mmmmclxvi

Airplane Language

The dictator, a diabetic, crashed airplane
noses, which is low from cloud cover, points
downward toward a hearth at an onlooker,
the velocity of which could be described as

freefall. Loan money for phone. Money for
phone. Loan. Tell Michael I don’t want to
be on holiday anymore. Contact lenses un
der eyelids squinting skyward at the falling

airplane. Cut it out. Call legal regarding
hosing. Try to chat pretty. Urgent stuff.
Call agent. Clean outside of proctor. Dive
nose into butter. Swear (swerve?). Scrub

and clean outside of fridge. Dispose of rot
ten meat on printer. Clean crash. New view.

mmmmclxv

Another Transcription

Budapest apartment number. 10th
to the 18th. Con UPS. Lewis Elling
ham: “...such a tiny/life I have come
to be living, a/really tiny life—” and

then it was sonnet-ward. The man
whose last name was (literally) the
cat’s meow (Miao?). How could I e
ver have known that this was not in

the application pecker (packet, sure
ly?). Precisely define necessity and
purpose of form 2125. What ladies
it so? Case mgr wordless wonders

too who will be needing to sign the
sexy section. 3 interviews pounding.

mmmmclxiv

Dearest Political Dilettante,

Humankind got you down? Well, you’ve
been wrong before. Here’s a thought: when
rising from bed of a morning, or happening
upon a friend or acquaintance, or greeting

your partner or lover, your child or a parent,
say, as you’re quickly going your separate
ways at the top of a day – or when first you
see either of them at the bottom of one – don’t

begin by rattling on about how you’d solve all
the world’s problems. A simple hello, a tip of
the hat, a peck on the cheek or even a “how do
you do,” will suffice, as a general rule of thumb.

With Much Love & High Hopes,
All of Your Chummiest Dumdums

mmmmclxiii

TBT: A Casual Friday Collage

Thirsty. Half filled with
peanut butter. One open
jar, splotched with a smudge
of strawberry jam. An iron

hand clumsily filled with a
lazy pen. Or gripping slop
pily at rotini with a pair of
chopsticks. 8 executives

eating pasta. Is exactly the
message that wants to be
heard? Breakfast with new
COO and old CIO. Chief

Management Connoisseur.
One forgotten necktie.

mmmmclxii

The Logic of Chaos

The mess on
my desk is
mesmerizing.

A splotch of
spilt milk in
the shape of

a heart.
I’ve said
this before

and I’ll say
it again.

mmmmclxi

Handbitten Tumor with Turmeric

General Surgery, Dr. Seuss.  Is
that some sort of introductory
class or my appointment this
coming Monday?  Ah, Oncology,

geriatric sugar.  Jared meat: a
calendar, a monkey and event
planning.  We are exactly at 3
weeks before Cystmas.  For now

I’ll pretend (in the guise of a
scrunched-up loofa with inef
fable smells permeating from
its porous innards - what a

whang!).  Add Africa to grocery list.
A lot of people won’t say Cystmas.

mmmmclx

Cranial Flatulence
(more ineligible nopes)

A compendium of Dutch spon
taneity. The rest of us, ground
ed by a grackle, spent 20 weeks
on the New York Times bestseller

list: (with Extended Ovation for a
Life Wronged. This bio of damaged
goods included such quotes as “Ex
eunt the Kardashians” & “A fistful

of s’mores.” The postcard that
came with the book was his obit.)
Ashbunny’s words had been so
confused they made the whole

gleaming universe finally make
sense. The colonoscopy was rad.

mmmmclix

An Architectural Dig at Authorial Intent

The years were not easy on his words.
Yet he’d often been told that he display
ed his ache-driven heart most proudly
and prominently upon his work-bedrag

gled sleeves. He vanished from the scene
shortly after he’d won the most prestigious
trophy for his bleak portrayal as lead in the
praised adaptation of A Wolf in Sheep’s

Clothing, a mostly forgotten flick with which
once every other semester but one (and the
same) film studies professor most sternly
indoctrinated his doting but dimwitted star

gazing rookies of Introduction to Cinema
(mostly known to the students as Flix 101).

mmmmclviii

Hurthand Inktoast

do not try to open. guidance to
total encryption on the cypher.
personality is everything. or per
sonally it’s endearing? send the

order. finance wants 2 wks. put a
tickler says 3 days til approval then
after 3 days give yourself approval.
exceptional. life is what it is: extreme

ly different (defensive?) (deferred?).
to get here, step toward it. psych.
eval. grow godfather relationship.
gary picks at day strudel. goal:

do not toughen the hot mustard.
proust nirvana palmer & young.

mmmmclvii

Handwritten Hodgepodge
(more snippets from various
often illegible scribbles)

queries for yvonne. bbq for folks.
send email to the entire psychiatry
dept. mottott (?) training. also ask
margo pamer (palmer?). arnie, molly,

angela, sheila. doodle poll. friday,
d. maran & eve 25 – 9 to 10am.
word to the fishcan. i’m a bitch (la
roux). valentino & the dalai lama.

minutes. note one: i went to get
the last minutes. the doc that
talks about all of the patients’ cons.
crocodile committee? next mtg perm.

another good year. quality control.
bert of duality (?). don’t get shrimp.

mmmmclvi

Moil Eagable Handsnips

it happens depending on the
situation. i canteen be at any
tube. just me. be good. i will
pay $750 per check on the 5th.

obstacles. i repressed no stress
to get you here. a loud belief [or
relief?]. and the door notices cali
fornia (show paper), if i have been

approved and verified. the world
i’m doing so strange. after three
years what is owed or owned. no
sucking sept. 5. NOT buying, but

learning as i go. loggy porpoises [?]
of official employees, not sex slaves.

mmmmclv

More Snippets from Handwritten Notes

contact Toss Now [sic?]. THIS HAS TO
BE MONDAY. show Mona Lisa my a
mount funded. ask her what she said
as she was walking out my door. notice

on door. notice in mail. $1 on the 27th.
history of Charleston [indecipherable].
$103.04. caresses/follicles upon/the
crook of my elbow. short spare tufts/

billow across/my loose knuckles. patient
as a [?]. persistent sex. suck feather
[sic?]. you will then go off insurance. you
have to buy ticket home. why does the night

mare landscape feel so comfortable. such a
high value risk, fraught with [?]. this kiss costs.

mmmmcliv

A Few Handwritten Notes
(Mostly Illegible)  #1

current statement. receipt for rent. case
number 1409241 (see email). multiple
people involved. your brother is not you.
does he have a phone? he needs to come

here immediately. dj reyes [sic?]. makes
it a tougher quote to quote. foil arrived at
zoo (?). another quote from edmund berrigan
on indigenous peoples’ day. description of his

eyes after staring at them for 30 secs solid.
for the game we’re not really strangers (6/3).
light in darkness. if you see him comin’ tell him
nuh uh. can’t do the talks like the talk on the tv.

off-kilter snippets of joy & confusion & (flitty/
flirty) consternation. beauty beautiful eyes.

mmmmcliii

Heartbreak Incapable

He had a way with words. What a
creative genius of renown. The world
was starstruck but to be graced by
his presence, wobbly knees, anxious

titters, swooning, the incessant blind
ing flashes of paparazzi and driven fans.
And the stalkers. He had infamous
encounters with obsessed zealots.

One climbed through his window at two
in the morning with an ax that, word has
it, left scars. The posthumous biopic re
vealed him to be a miserable man; bitter,

contemptuous, devoid of heart and soul.
A complete waste, a ruse, a real nobody.

mmmmclii

Plebeian Wargames

Isn’t blindly picking sides how
we got to the edge of the apoc
alypse in the first place?  Of
course all powermongers – left,

right, somewhere in between
– vie for the lowest common
denominator.  But I’d like to think
one side refuses to simply hail

“Let’s make the dumb dumber” and
aims evenly across the mathematical
spectrum.  Oh but when those with
whom I identify go dumber, do

the lemmings ever line up to dive
from the cliffs into hell en masse.

mmmmcli

Rise and Shine

Here’s some extra space
for your pleasure. If I
could make it private,
you know I would,

right? I’m having break
fast without any food.
And I’m having it very
slowly. Lugubrious is

a look and/or a sound.
Sure, I’d say it that way.
The hack of putting pen
to paper is lesser or great

er than finger pads eras
ing letters off keyboards?

mmmmcl

Sonata of Hope

The white noise, despite my needs
or wants, refuses to be contained,
creates the patter of rain out my one
window. I listen expectantly for the

rivulets that will begin to develop two
stories down, upon the metal rooftop
of the courtyard that separates one wing
of my building from the other. When the

shooshing doesn’t come, my ears relay a
bit of relief – misshapen by the whir of the
desperate wind, which is as imaginary as
the rain – to the synapses of my brain,

wherein this symphony was derived. It’s all
in my head, where it remains wholly contained.

mmmmcxlix

Springtime in November*

It seems time, running like a bull, has me
right at headbutting another solo Thanks
giving. My tenth one in a row. A decade of
flying solo and mostly burdened with financial

distress and depression during the holidays. I
am still not used to the absurdity of hermit-dum,
not comfortable with it even after this long. And
this year that double kidney-punch that are my

usual holiday burdens that make bearing the dur
ation between Thanksgiving and the New Year alone
triply abhorrent, seem even worse than ever. And
yet. Somehow. At least presently, I’m not reeling

with defeat; I’m even...optimistic. It’s such a treat. I
am thankful! Stay gone, dread! Happy Thanksgiving, all!

*this trend upward hopefully ends my miniseries, The Bitter Sonnets

mmmmcxlviii

Me Time

I need some me time. Gonna call in sick
to work today. Okay. So now I’m sarcastic
ally ensconced in the sand at this gorgeous
beach, no worries whatsoever, watching the

waves flicker under the glimmering sun as
they tongue at the sparkling silica spread
between me and the fluctuating boundary
of the firmament. All of this I do, whilst

sitting in the coffin-sized space in which I
live, crumpled beneath, up and over this
bruise-battered desk that’s what’s mine,
twitch-dreaming the day away and into the

sour unswallowable horse-pill of another
unimaginative night’s sleepless oblivion.