mmmccclxxxviii

a rock’s lament

to wait
is not
to live.

there’s
the rock,
there’s
the sling
shot,

and there’s
the boy
holding
them, at

first in
separate
hands.

the sling
shot is
prone,
has been
for what
seems like
forever.

the boy
takes aim
at the robin
on the tele
phone wire.

the rock
has lang
uished in
waiting.

but to
kill a
bird?

it dreamt
of soaring,
absolutely,
but this?

this
was
never
the rock’s
intent.

the boy
is focused
on the bird;
the slingshot
in his hand
is ready for
the ecstasy
of release.

the rock,
finally
soaring,
is env
eloped
in grief,
aware on
ly now that
its entire ex
istence was

but for
this boy
and this
bird.

mmmccclxxxvii

All Lip and No Bite

how often he sees
his love down on
his knees; first
he’s hunched,
then he’s hunk
ered, he can’t
find his keys.
he’s under the
table and quite
late for work, and
he’s muttering
something, can’t
make out just what,
but you know that it’s
harsh and it’s dark and
it’s denigrating, unsui
table, really, for this
time of the morning,
so, “Ben,” says the
partner still stand
ing down toward
the miserable man
that’s but scrunched
up in under the most
distant corner of the
end table sitting
(of course) at
the opposite end
of the coffee table
from where Norman’s
(the one that’s been
standing), “Benny,
I’ve got your keys
in my hand over
here, they were
in yesterday’s
khakis, like always,
my dear.” then
Ben’s up from the
floor, but first there’s
a bonk as he bangs his
head at the marble
underside of the
table he’s somehow
gotten himself
under, nearly lifting
it clean all four legs off
the floor (and it’s not
a light lift with that
green slab of marble),
“oh, goodness! oh,
thanks Norm,” he’s
back on his feet, and
not just a teensy
bit awkwardly. he
grabs the keys out
from Norm’s thin-
fingered clasp and he
(this he does gracefully)
plants a real kiss onto Nor
man’s thin lips and he’s
out the door, van
ished, all lickety-split.

mmmccclxxxvi

3 great big things*

-Art
-Tickle
-Able

*(that are good.)

mmmccclxxxv

The Dumdum Conundrum

is earthbound, just astride

the bay, and has flying 

daggers, or at least a

ton-pounded arrow

replete with a
monster gold

en half-buried-

into-the-earth
bow.
the arch
ery badge
i earned in
boy scout camp
gave me a splendid
feeling, it's true. but how 

could i not but feel an even 

bigger burst of life than when

i sunk to the bottom of a lake 

with a massive rock tied inside 

of my t-shirt, only to soon and

somehow,  miraculously find 

myself gasping the air with my

head above water in mere 

seconds.... so no matter the

bevy of hifalutin insignia that
adorned my own sash of merit,
that swimming badge, simple
as it might have appeared, pro
vided the most gratification of
all. it was mine. i earned it. i
don’t think there was a badge
for sitting on a cliff with one’s
legs dangling over it. or for
somehow managing to twist
through the mangled limbs
of the trees that jutted out of
the rocks of that steep incline,
my dangling toes just below,
yet seemingly miles above,
the papery fields below.
i suppose a bow and ar
row might give one
a better than zero
chance of getting
one or two places
alive, surely, but
to swim is nothing
less than to sur
vive. archery
seems more
like some
thing roy
alty do
with a
fox and
maybe a
dead bird;
or science fic
tion like the hung
er games, or robin
“the rich to help the
broken broke” hood.

i earned that badge, 

too. but.  to swim 

rather than drown 

seems a much more
down to earth (but
yet, deadly, just for 

the lack of earth) and 

practical skill one might 

use or need to use at 

a moment’s notice, 

without the advantage 

of forethought  (“look, 

i brought
my bow
and a few
gurgle!”).
(“oops, can’t
swim, i’m a
goner! gurgle!”)
(“gone!”). then

there’s the
myth of solid ground. until, of course the
earthquake hits when, if you’re in my vic
inity, anyway, might have you spinning
around in something called liquefaction.
which, unlike quicksand, at least sounds
like something one might be able to es
cape somehow by means of a capability
to swim. i like to be prepared for the wo
rst, but can’t recall there being an apoc
alypse merit badge, nor one for global
warming (although maybe there is now?), 

nor one for crashing into an iceberg, or 

falling from the sky in a burning zeppelin. 

i remember an old readers’ digest comic, 

where the hindenburg and the titanic 

are crossing paths. both have a 

couple of fingers raised as one 

goes one way and the other goes

the opposite, each with smug grins
on their “faces” with a tiny text
bubble apiece. the bubbles had
identical text: “be prepared.”
it’s also quite possible that
my memory is playing tricks
with me and that the vision
of the cartoon inserted the
seeming reams of supposedly

condensed text (i was a kid)

is something that i only 

just now, spontaneously 

and subconsciously
invented. none
of this prepares
either one of us
for the inevitable,
however, would
n’t you agree?

mmmccclxxxiv

benny brown the out-of-town clown

“hey there, mister
frowny clown, wh
at’s got you down?”

most clowns go
here and there about
town minding their

own business, but
appreciate their
renown, the fam

iliarity with which,
when found sitting
at the beach, on

a park bench, in a
subway or a bus,
when approached

as if an acquaintance
or a friend not seen
in a very long time.

“i am known!”
thinks the doctor
william benjamin

brown, of benny
brown dental, who
is just in the city for

a bit of clowning a
round; he’s erstwhile
known as “benny

brown, dds, pound
for pound, the best
dang dentist in down

town harrisburg.”
billy, as his own
mother called him,

had a thing about
being bound to his
profession, as it

were. so once
every couple of
months, he’d

venture up to
the armoire in
the attic (ador

ned with scads
of colorful ring
ling brothers eph

emera), break out
his bozo bin that
was chock-full of

make-up, spend an
hour or two (or three)
transforming himself

into benny brown
the out-of-town
clown. and then

he’d give his ever-
patient wife (the sw
eet downy brown)

a peck or two
on the cheeks
and then per

haps another
but light one on
the lips (downy

wasn’t a bit
fond of the
taste of her

dear william’s
humongous
burgundy

frown), then
he’d hop
into his

dusty rose-
colored cutlass,
scoot over to

mcgown’s liquor
abounds, for a
mid-sized bottle

of crown, and
then off he’d go,
to the big city,

for a night of
nothing but
clowning

around. it
was a silly
habit, he’d

always tell
downy, but
it kept his

feet planted
right down
on the ground.

and it did, he’d
think each evening
he zoomed out of

town and toward
the city, he’d think
exactly of that –

and while mulling
on that our dear
william ben

jamin brown,
dds, had a
smile so wide

that it all but
devoured that
big burgundy

frown off the
overly painted
and powdered

up face of good
benny brown, the
out-of-town clown.

mmmccclxxxiii

A Seismic Idea

but it wasn’t a rift
between us, it’s
just we’re on the
same fault. which
is always mine, i
can say it, mine,
but what’s it to
possess another
human? it’s nice
we never talk
like that. but
with such a
rumble?! i’d
prefer to be
super-human,
but maybe
rather than
fly (you know
how i am about
the sky), i’d rath
er hustle through
the crumbling earth
like, i don’t know,
underwater sonar,
and i’d be there
and back again
in no time flat,
only i’m not
saving the
universe,
nope,
just you,
after which
i’ll retire my
super-hero out
fit and we can
go wherever
you’d like—
but perhaps
someplace
where we
might could
explore alter
native disasters
(or maybe
even none
at all?),
that is,
if it’s
okay
with
you.

mmmccclxxxii

Hard Nut Holler
(a tough snuff to swaller
& also impossible to foller)

and all the
neighboring
hollers, to
which I
give my
hardhearted
appreciation,
because grow
ing up with y
ou as neighb
ors, while see
mingly unrem
arkable at the
time, all I’m
saying here
is what a
naive arky,
packed his
bags full o’
the mullarky
of neglect of
neighborly
neighbors,
neighborly
neighs, even,
but look, and
yuck and sorr
ow I’d so many
lucky tomorrows
because alit with
the affluence of
human decency,
oh to retreat back
to naivete, given,
good cousins,
there’s nothing
like a holler
that, bullying
not, gets back
a congruent
holler, in
camaraderie,
encouragey
solidarity,
than, oh,
just any
other kind
of a whiny
holler, I’d
no idea how
high among
the hollers,
my own and
those neigh
boring, I

was at the

time, how

much high

er than 

those I

now and

more mod

ernly know

which are 

plain me

anspirited,
spent like
an axe me
ant to cut
one right

down to 

the ground,
and the old
cranky man
at the end
of the made
for teevee

movie gets
felled by the
tallest and
bullyest tree,
can’t thank
you enough
for planting
the seed and
I guess, hey,
laments just

like me and

that tree,
say maybe
a massive
oak, I don’t
really know 

what I’m try

ing to say
to you 
people
with he
art who
gave me
this art
of hang
ing out

with and

among all
the hollers,

I mean
how I 
so wish
for the
peace
and the
growth of
silence,
which I
might
should
offer
all you
hollerers
of back

in the day – 

I’m so sorry. 

it’s hard not 

to echo your
hollowed
out sent
iment now.

mmmccclxxxi

Servitude

the difference
between an order
and a request.

the order came
through.  i
failed

to do the
same.
when final

ly let
go, the
sting at

the bottom
of my throat;
the fingered

red rings
around my
neck.  i

got so embarr
assed and
couldn’t

breathe for
what seemed
like forever

being held
up onto a
wall by

a big
banker
in the

very
early
90’s.

i kicked
a man in
the gut to

get him out
of my truck
in the teenage

years of the
21st century.
a pacifist

values life.
isn’t that
the point

of being
one?

mmmccclxxx

what i do evenings


late

push

of the tip

towards

midnight,



scrubbing

the parchment

until it bleeds.



not always.

nothing’s always.

mmmccclxxix

what happens

when we die

we live

maybe

a little

longer

mmmccclxxviii

Hoopla Holler

If you’re finding
lots of typos on
this rad, long-
standing blog,

you should know,
perhaps, it’s all
due to my brand
new fancy job.

mmmccclxxvii

mental-mania

the bored bard played up
a fake barf, knowing full
well that the story would
lead somewhere worthwhile,

considering the fact that the
preliminary payola deal was
struck by the number-crunch
ers with a buncha lunks who

didn’t know from shinola
down over at loyola. those
nobodies’d never seen 

nothin’. and ordinarily i

would’ve paid them no
how do you do, but, mind
you, these were not your
ordinary joes, no howdy

doodies these wheeler-
dealers, as the old man so
often would say, always ad
ding “but remember, only

once they defeat us will the
sex be determined.” but then,

lo and behold, as if the barn-door
were left wide open, a mass

ive welcome mat right in
the front of it sayin’ “cows
only! does eat oats and
goats can go blow!”

but there were the go
phers. “oh, bo’, how

low can you go?” “i
dunno,” sez barney,

“but we’ve only got
two choices.” barney,

knowing full well what
was coming, wouldn’t

let the poor guy finish.
“lemme guess,” he says,
“it’s either buck up for
some tic-tac-toe,

or swing to your part
ner, do-si-do, and get
the flunky unclucky
duck way the heck

outta there, like jon
athon swift.” percy
overheard the entire
conversation, the walls

being, in all practicality
(a sensibility of which nei
ther of these three clowns
had one solid ounce of,

even if combined, pound
for pound), paper-thin at the
hodge-podge lodge in (none
other than) downtown dodge.

mmmccclxxvi

“Hey, guess what?!”

right now i have this thing,
you see, of telling you a little
something of me, a

craving, you might rightfully
call it, of a little bit of nothing
or a terrible lot of everything.

such as, for example, my lap
top, which feels about as if 

it’s on its last legs. and while

you might then say, “laptops
don’t have legs,” i’d then

offer a “how right you are!”

and tell you a bit about 

my very own, the ones 

upon which i am when

i am walking, which most
ly, in point of fact, do that
walking literally for me,

how today they’re really very
sore from walking here and
there and more, and if you’d

chime in with “how come?”
there’s more, so much more
that i would then tell, such

as “i’ll tell you how come,”
and go on about work, my
job, the means with which

i assume i’ll get paid,
which i started only
yesterday, which ,as

i recall, was a gleaming
tuesday. “right you are,”
and “congrats!” you’d say,

which’d almost whelm me as
it were, because only just atop
this very week did i have at

this place my first interview,
that is, with this particular
lovely crew, as in reality

i’d had so many interviews
(except never had these
been in person at all,

they’d often been on
the cellphone as a call,
or mostly, rather, a face-

to-face via video, for
safety’s sake, you see,
thanks to the pandemical

world in which now we
exist) this past couple of
months that, i counted,

amounted to twenty
and two, so here i
am spending some

time here with you,
dwelling quite heavily
on interview number

twenty-three, that is
the 23rd one i have
had in roundabout

this past 2.5 months.
and why was i saying
this? now i remember.

it’s all because you are
standing right here
next to me and

out of nowhere i
couldn’t but hanker
to talk about me,

just to tell you a little
of what’s going on
now that it’s been so

long that i’ve spent
by myself in my
room just waiting

and working toward
this very moment
to happen.  thank

you for being here,
you’re such a dear.
i’m so happy you

made it, as if that
weren’t clear. and
now i work regularly,

like a person, how
awesome it is to
be able to tell you

that not very small
bit about who i am
right now; everything

seems a bit strange
it turns out, most
especially, i’m sure,

thanks to various
things going on
in the world that

have kept me (i
must with some sad
ness relay) from

not only seeing
you like this,
what had

most of forever
seemed perfectly
normal, but also

because this
fair news i
just told you

is the most news
i’ve uttered to

anyone’s face

in what seems
far too long.
it’s in fact

made me most
undeniably dizzy.
so don’t go just yet

if you kindly don’t

mind, let me make
you a drink, that’s

if you would like.
yes, please join me.
somewhere there’s

a bottle of wine
we can sip, i in
sist and, well, 

as we spend all the
evening and some
of the night talking

up our good selves,
just you and me, it’ll
be the most wonderfully

perfect thing to help

smooth all the mess of

the past several months.

just to talk about us.
and in so doing we’ll be

temporarily free from the 

worries of time and what was 

and just be. what a swell way
to live once again, and unwind.

mmmccclxxv

 (in honor of the fact there is nothing whatsoever in that drawer,* but 

 with a little less cynicism. and a lot less idiotic than my last attempt.)

 i am not a cynic: a “sonnet”

 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.

 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.

 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.
 i am not a cynic.

 i am not a cynic.

*w/deference to Ron Padgett

mmmccclxxiv

hot night with google

     I think it’ll be fine.
             —John Ashbery

it’s as unsexy
as it could po
ssibly get. an
d this is not th
e first time, and
i presume won’t
be the last. una
uthorized charg
es on an account,
one i set up for t
he magazine, whi
ch i haven’t even
used, $140, and,
the big news, the
BIG NEWS, i go
t a job, i start to
morrow, it seem
s like a wonderf
ul new job, i can
not wait, my 20
th interview or
21st in over 2
months, after
a pandemic,
after isolat
ion at home
after isolation
isolation i
so lation 4
so long not
one person
not one per
son not one
person in th
is room bes
ides me and
the roach in
spectors for
nearly two s
olid years so
when i say h
ot night with
google over
unauthorized
payments that
were made we
ekly on an acc
ount i never e
ven open and
count your st
ars i am not g
iving you at le
ast not now al
l the many rea
sons why this
account hasn’
t even been o
pened but tw
ice while on the
phone all night
with google on
a hot hot night
two of the most
unsexy nights i
can recall ever
having (and th
ere have been
more than i
can count on
my fingers a
nd toes that i
remember vi
vidly perhaps
three times o
ver so that’s
what i’m te
lling you
now good
night hello
new job wh
at can i say
to google t
hat might b
e relayed h
ere absolu
tely nothing

mmmccclxxiii

this could be the day

     salt shakers, am i right?
            —Meggie Ramm

but most likely not,
am i right? wow,
what a day! a day

that let’s you know
who you are, that
you’re here, that

you’re ,,, loved?
did it, now?
sure it did.

a day filled
with cell-
phones filled

with people.
a day filled
with photo

graphs of
people to
whom you

’ve some re
lation. but
being black

and white,
they are mo
stly relations

of the progen
itor type. peo
ple for whom

you (i) are (am)
progeny, only
most’d never

know it, mean
ing never knew
it, not a chance.

isn’t this a
good time
to appreciate

the 21st cen
tury? i won’t
say i never lo

ok back, but i
will say i never
surrender my

self to whatever
it is that’s back
there to look at,

because that’d
be unpretty. t
he world is re

plete with ob
stacles, i repeat,
the world’s got a

lot of stumbling
blocks. but so long
as you don’t break

your legs too badly
there will always be
plenty more stuff

to stumble over
and (better yet,
am i right?) upon.

mmmccclxxii

stuck on a doormat
doing the door math
(who’s so welcome he
knocked it right down?)

here’s a few hank’rin’
words dot com for a day
spent hunkerin’ down low—
some door-downin’ hunk 

shows up at this so-called
chronic coffin all right-izm 

wrong-izm right? it’s a day so 

super & the pan dim lucky’s 

been done gone (or so mouths 

sez i hears), and you in a big-

heaved yell over a helluva

stretch of land, says H
OW many more can you
be here? and don’t just 

glare say the DAYS strung

out right down to the knock-
knock-knock in my ears
pult so into this door of 

you, plumb now till ya 

pound down its fleur de lis 

points to the pure-dee ground 

so who sits all prettily shuts
my lips and moves his
pouts out down to the
cliff to the other big end
of a suez canal where we
live we’re alive but we’re
on the wrong side of hell
stay alive says the curtain
as it goes up & up just as 

certain times coattails 

drown pine cones in cups 

i’m down to square down 

to all that’s a’wedded

right here, oh how m

uch more used knots
are to spare me the
glib ‘ready ribbed
everywhere becuz
when’s you gonna
cum? they all ask
every day and to
me little me when’s
the day? when’s
the day? well you
henny hen hens just
you wait you dears 

can’t ya see he’s a’comin’

he’s a’comin’ yes sir i’ve

been set real free as i told

you before he’s my hunny-

hunny-bee. that i do well

declare (a big ditto from

the dark) oh so please 

woncha please why yes 

if ya care will ya fly if

you could just this one
more july oh with two 

or three advil (or four)
til the devil’s own
june once or so
we’ll around
we’ll around
round the bend
in a diabetic lump
clump of pills in
our hands, poor
hands run the
stairs all the
way to the door
what a ham-
footed ham
holy hell holy
damn nah it’s
holy toledo and
we’ll boogie
til the birds
of the disco
do their rhyme
chill their chirp
shrill their trill
and who’ll care
what the hell when
the car squeaks around
all the way up the bluff
which upon lives a man
hear the car shimmy up
hear the door’s big kathunk
which is no car door no this
here thunk’s up a chunk up
there on that floor just a
like it’s at us as we’re down 

on all eight (that’s two sco

res of dunka-dunk dunk

dunka-dunk) and no less th

an it is and what’s more it 

is four.  yes a four that’ll

guess at the who or the
what (it’s absurdly a whom,

as you knew), say, what’s that 

kaboom down it fell what a dear 

that’s  the door says the man

what it is that he means 

that’s my man that’s my 

man what he’s made out of 

me? when that fist hissed the 

door whooshed and yes, 

it’s a hit that he made me 

my hitman he banged and 

it whumped to the floor!

mmmccclxxi

septembranizm
(out of place be
cause it’s one
for the ages.)

     you’re too sweet to pull that off right this moment.
     but give it a bit of time, and not only will you give
     me a run for my money, but you'll be king, queen
     and dictator of us all.
                                                               —me

here’s a few
notes that
are quotes
from yours
truly,

which are not
anachronistic
at the moment,

and perhaps
never will be
because the
whole of it is
grounded in
the now,

or in time
lessness;
which is to
also say that
they’re steep
ed in univer
sality:

scale back on
the honesty,
honey. step
away from
straight
forward.

that notion
i’m always
beating like
dead meat,

the one in
which i ar
gue the c
ase that i
do nothing

if not work
incessantly
at being.
exactly
who i
am

—all around,
no matter w
here or under
whatever circ
umstances—

well,

while that is
100% truth,
it is just as
equally also
butter ullshit.

+, if it were
not true, an
d if we we
re even ca
pable of ca
lling the
dogs dogs,

and being infi
nitely (& mort
ally), straight
forwardly truth
ful,

it’d either be a
boring world or
everyone would
have murdered
everyone else
by now.

i mean (previous
ly, that same era),
as strongly as i a
void self-censors
hip or whatever—

meaning general
ly, with the exce
ption of being a
total dick about

it—couldn’t it be
said that in every
area of (my) life,
almost everything
we do and say and
write or whatever is

inherently so obvi
ously layered in a
complex set of curt
ains and codes?

and all of that pos
turing, that mask
ing, that fibbing
and such,

couldn’t it just be
called levity—at
least just as eas
ily as it might co
rrectly and right

fully be called ly

ing or faking it or 

being hypocritical?

is it just me, or
am i gotten? and
if i’m so had,
isn't that just
the funniest
rub ever?

mmmccclxx

tomato potato

the older i get
the more twist
ed i am, wall
owing as i do
in my doe-ey
ed confusion.
would you ex
pect anything
less from such
a bifurcated soul?
twinkle twinkle
star-crossed gem
ini, what are we
ever gonna do
with me?  of
course i’ve al
ways got plenty
of bright ideas,
because duh,
there’s a ton
of fun stuff i
can do with
myself.  because
there are so many
of us.  of course
what i mean is,
even though we,
either of us, never
know who we’re
gonna be when we
wake of a morning
(or afternoon, or
evening), but, al
as and alack, as
they used to say
(and some of us
still do), it’s really
just the two of us.
but, honestly.  why
should that be such
a bore?  because,
well, because be
cause why have
just us when we
can always have
more.  that’s the
because.  no mat
ter how many of
us that i can be,
it’s always more
fun when there
are at least three
(meaning one of
us has please oh
please got to not
be me.) (amen!).

mmmccclxix

whiz aplomb
(a waltz; for l
ack of further

abstraction:
dis crumply
’tis [of thee].

uh, thi
s need
s work.)

okay, so now

that the title’s
been offered,

please forget 

it because it’s 

100% irrelevant 

(or is it?) (damn,

sorry, just kid
ding, it is!) (i

rrelevant, i
mean). let
me start a

gain. okay,
so it’s better
today to use

a phrase like
sustained inn
ovation than

disruptive any
thing is the pr
emise here. i

can see that,
but let’s not
even begin t

o deny such
reinvention,
such innova

shin is always
at play, and in
terms of old, a

s in old school,
business, or e
ven just the n

otion of old fa
shioned – esp
ecially in bidd

en hiss – that
which brings
in the dough,

so to speak
(which i’m
not. speak

ing, that is),
in terms of
old anything,

things beco
me flatulent,
or else a frag

ment, stagnant?

i cannot read m

y own hand wri

thing here.
today, the
savvy are

mostly al
ways look
ing for any

chinks in t
he armor, o
ur armoire

are houri, o
wer own per
sonal am

our, let’s 

just leave 

it at that f

or now....
the savvy
today are

just lookin’
for chinks
in our arm

our, are al
ways looki
n’ for such

chinks, and
i do mean al
ways, and th

ere just so hap
pen to always
be words, such

as always, that
i cannot for the
life of me figure

out what i meant
to have written it
to mean, though 

it be just written
this morning. to c
ontinue, i do me,

an always better
and more colorful
and more lucrative

way of reaching t
hat stated or desi
red goal, or of co

mpletely erad
icating that s

ad goal, of m

aking sure one
that’s perhaps

in the same fa

mily as the old
goal, but has mo
re panache and/or

most often necess
arily gets the job d
one. and better and

faster and cheaper
.... am i missing so
mething, like clean

er or clearer? (yea

h, more than likely).
and, let’s be clear

here, the way to t
he greatest could in

deed be cheaper, e

ven as millions of con

sumers are, more ofte

n than not, willing to d

ole out more money
for the fastest, the
tastiest, the most e

fficient aspects of
the hypothetical r

esult. it is (or did

i write, is it?) a no-
win for the tried a
nd true? the staid

mechanisms which tim
e and tide have shown

are quite proven to work.

WHAT IS WORKING,
after all? do i even
have to work? what’

s an office? what i

s, and here’s an ar

ea, situated so spe

cifically for its own des

truck shin, and, boy, w

hat an area it is for dis

rupting, and for being 

disrupted and/or disrup

tive, it’s the parcel most

positively in need of

a change, any chan

ce of it being an evolu

shin nary process, it’s an

ecology for disrupting, for 

destroying, for rebuilding 

it in one’s image, for 

your personal priorit

ies, for your business 

priorities, for just cuz i
wanna priorities, with w
hom should one speak?

are there any bots or a
multitude of bots or even
more bots plus robots for

which to hug our consumers?
to what should we most often
non sequitur? to whom might

one beg? you, my friends, are
getting the idea. i can see a g
limmer in your eye, the left one,

at least, the one that seems al
ways to be looking right at me.
you’re in the know, aren’t you?

yeah, you know what, you’re
not only in the know but you
know perfectly well that you

do that thing that you do,
and how it gets! me. the
streetlamp. all the cats an

d dogs. other people. ev
erything. you know what
’s imp and what’s non-pro

blematically ignored, you
know what’s in, and you
’re perhaps aware of the

deus ex machina that’s
so obviously coming (a
nd soon!). these are y

our tried and true and
seminal and boring, r
what you’ve been coun

ting on for who knows
how long just to be ce
rtain that what needs

to get done gets done.
right? soon, each and
every one of us left w

ill be the grunts you’ve
enslaved to ever so gle
efully and effortlessly u

p the ante, to change th
e universe, making ever
y rockin’ day as if it were

the last, as if nobody’d ev
er realized that the night
mares we all have could

rather be used to wash
and wear, or did i simply
write to weather, or

maybe it’s whatever,
but i think what it re
ally says is wagon wh

eel. yes, unlike hum
ans who are exactly l
ike me, i cannot spot

one of you sad sacks,
in, like an instant, so
please kindly tell me

if you’d’ve been rath
er generous: the ch
it that I shouldn’t’ve

given up today was so
generous that i’m bei

ng like that last good

man remaining, found

just today, of my long
gone species? should i

not quite simply and 

post hastily give up 

(immediately)? so the 

question before you is 

should i give up today? 

and if so, on what? sho

uld i insist, then, tomorr

ow? and do all of the ma

chines, and do all of the 

processes, and do all t

he trees, and do all of 

the transport services,

and do all of the beach
es, and do all of the go
vernment agencies, and

do all of the duds, all of 

the dates, and all of the
plants, and all of the nuts.

nuts, decide with every

one else that that’s exact

ly what we are (each and all) 

how we r made to make this,

this, and this unrepentantly

distasteful decision all for 

ME? and will, so far. the new
year even, because by then
i’ll have all of my pockets fill

ed with nouveau cash, and 

i’ll be working at a three st

ar restaurant, on a cruise s

hip, or else I’ll be a gu
est on the same cruise,
or, say, which word m

ight soon be available
for sale, by which i me
an what planet should i

colonize, come on, you
can tell me, it’ll be our
little secret, and pronto,

and what new or immed
iately impending anoma
lies should i, meaning we,

be worried about, or be 

preparing for, or be look

ing forward to, and what 

are the ways we can make 

ourselves the best we can 

be at the properest of times

so that we may receive what

we then will receive in the m

ost and the moistiestly appro

priate manner, so as to indi

cate that we men are, in a 

manner of speaking, (and i’m 

not, once again, and for the 

record) merely dicks? how 

swift and how economical,

if we put our best efforts and a

ll of our energies together, mig
ht we assist your universal ent

ity in order to achieve said goal? 

(was a goal ever even men-shin

ned?) why, you really are the best, 

is what i’m nearly certain is what 

you’ll all be saying to me next. c

uz i really am about to be saving 

your ridiculous waste of life, a life 

of lifelessness, a life of foul will, a 

life of sour little pills, a dour life t

hat i shall never put one oun

ce of effort into pushing onto 

a piece of pimpernel papier, e

ven it were a roll of the quainte

st pimpernel-colored toilet paper. 

because, no anomaly, me, i have

worked out that i’d come to
your rescue, despite all the 

thoughts based on strategies

you might’ve had to the contra

ry, despite your complete lack 

of faith in humanity and us non-

human losers.  and while you’re

at it, what was your name a

gain? might you direct me to the 

nearest all-inclusive, omnisexual

ly-safe (meaning both omnisexual 

and safe) lavatory?  or to the near

est whizzable roof; to the roof 

designed for its whizzability; 

take me to your whizzing roof 

so that I can take a piss while simul 

taneously doing my self the favor of 

having a quick and dirty pick-me-up.