narrow un-

From the existence of lampposts and creatures flying
In the erratic rays of artificial poisoned light
Life shrinks to the point of divine bureaucracy
Like leaves over the flowerpots
When the houseplants calmly count the moons
They can manage harmlessly
A mercenary hears time and again that feathers don’t bleed
But he doesn’t exist and doesn’t believe it

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18 thoughts on “narrow un-

  1. I may be wrong
    but I think they gave Bob Dylan
    THE PABST BLUE RIBBON
    ————————————–
    Kamikaze readers—how does one shake them ?
    smoking and cussing and masturbating
    with the Bible in the same room
    tossing your cookies
    with the Word of the Lord
    just feet away
    ——————-
    readers often say that the night was indigo
    standing outside in the dark
    Baby Bird would try to count the stars

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  2. it may be common to hear things like twinkie-blinks
    or dolly boys
    (where satire and criticism end)
    the dung beetle claims it is all in the play of pungent odors
    early morning rectal mucus
    ————————————-
    asking myself, “did Noah sleep with a pillow ?”
    the guys at the pool hall talking about God waiting patiently
    for Adam and Eve to screw up in the Garden

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  3. I know that you work with the flotsam of the past
    all nature of things sleeping outside your door
    succubi and incubi—motel twats and dongs
    phantoms
    unpublished poems by Robert Frost
    —when you were really young
    you saw the Pincher Man hurt classmates

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  4. THERE ARE MANY QUESTIONS FROM YOUR PAST
    ———–YET TO BE TACKLED
    that as a student you were in the classroom
    with the Pincher Man
    sailor talk and self-devouring verbs
    how could you not be a poet ?
    two days ago on a game show
    they asked what your first pen-name was
    all I could think about was when you worked at Los Alamos
    all that glow-in-the-dark stuff—ATOMIC CHAMBER POT LOGS
    inversions of traditional norms
    you told people that you were a fast-food scientist
    no one heard a word you said
    they were occupied with defecation
    and copulation
    (from Sunday School class)
    “HONOR THY BOWELS AND PHALLUS”

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    • The best persons to talk about the past
      Are zen buddhists and infants
      I visited los alamos only once
      And couldn’t have a dinner
      Long evening hours the locals prattle about
      Steaks and omelets
      No nuclear bullshit

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  5. funny…when you say that you were in Los Alamos only once
    you failed to mention that it was for 14 months
    underground—never seeing the sun
    too many theoretical perspectives (?)
    too little carnival laughter
    “couldn’t have dinner” is code
    usually a meal refers to a co-worker
    I could only guess about “steaks and omelets”
    consecrated and forbidden no doubt
    the kind of stuff one hears about in truck stop showers
    I need say nothing about “long evening prattle”
    been there done that etc.
    of course there was no nuclear dung
    you were in a trillion dollar enterprise
    a place where humans are only measured by function
    a place noted for its remarkable silence
    a place where the fabric of the future was naked

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    • Native americans wiped out the whole town once
      And made cigarettes out of the textbooks and monographs
      But the scalps of the scientists were sheer disappointment
      So they have never repeated it since then

      Like

  6. to be honest, the scalps were not from scientists
    Native Americans only breached the first level
    no scientists were located on the first level
    only security, maintenance, and the cleaning crew
    most of the victims were psychosomatic cripples
    security guards with disabilities—people missing limbs
    shoplifters, simpletons and devil worshipers
    ****famous line drawing of Native American
    feeding an apple pie to his horse

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    • you are wrong because in los alamos
      you can stumble across a scientist even at mcdonalds
      forget about levels, they are for posers
      true scientists are real freaks in the real world
      not just shoplifters, simpletons or devil worshipers

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  7. YOU MAY BE CORRECT (?)
    when I was at Los Alamos
    at a MCDONALDS
    there were maybe 50 people from India
    in strange clothing—brightly colored
    eating things one wouldn’t eat in India
    it may be easy for you to dismiss the people
    who work at various levels underground
    but baby bird
    the big money is not made on the ground level
    as for scientists—who knows ?
    there probably are no true scientists
    just like there are no true poets
    as for real freaks—common as fleas
    the real market for freaks dropped out in 1969
    ****I gave Robert Frost your zip code

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    • money is a shitty fiction which
      will be forgotten by the human race
      very soon and forever with all levels
      degrees and hierarchies
      at least i hope so
      and freaks
      they have never belonged to any market

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  8. around these parts people count fingers
    everyone wants to date crisp and functional hands
    a hand performer is worth two in the bush
    ————————
    I saw your photo in an old “Occult Weekly”
    would it not be sweet of me
    to say that you were a shaft of light from heaven
    a happy place between middlebrow and highbrow
    free of jive-talk and scat-yodeling
    (never afraid of another herring on the plate)
    ————————
    it is impossible for you
    to imagine a lifelong teetotaler
    please don’t try

    Like

    • Why, i know a whole bunch of teetotalers
      Once in the 90s they destroyed the weekly world news office
      Now they try to sell their toes and fingers
      To russian billionaires

      Like

  9. I was told that Russian billionaires were only symbolic
    like a flock of pigeons—a sweaty kiss in a cold room
    fingers and toes have almost no value
    televisual charisma—now you are talking $$$$
    overreaction is in constant need of overreactors
    a shop down the street sells lecherous doggerel
    and confessional curiosities
    when people start show biz
    they always complain about frontal assaults
    not really worth shaking your head over
    just wear several pairs of thick shorts
    what do you care if they touch your junk ?

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  10. finding yourself as a mechanical statue
    on your neighbor’s mantelpiece
    he keeps asking you about the constraint
    of your three pairs of underwear
    the airlessness
    he seems very serious about your personal kitsch
    he offers you pills that will make you a man again
    make you silly young and horny
    like the crush you had on the lesbian librarian
    fermenting sexuality—a stout pickle down below
    a fellow who could only think of a cooler
    more pleasanter atmosphere

    Like

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