a way aways
part iii dedicated
to kali to kila
to february 12, 2013 = 11
She takes
yer rules-of-road
yer mandates federal
yer ideas of fair
yer fears...
she licks them speechless
swallowed
the music-the man-the mainstream
swallowed
the line-the linear-the madmadlineage
swallowed
the age-of-fadness' rivercesspoolz
fell
into her wake
deconditioned
decommissioned
transmissions.....
swallowed
into her lake like history
that which B
swallowed by
the sea
this sucker she
will make you her bitch
and liquefy all the earth
around us
you and me both
this fucker
will have us
suck fumes
FUCK - uuuuuuumes
she whines
ignited
turned over
her oilpans full with
blackblood, she
unassumes
like
no one
never knew
but, i think,
strange to say
she loves somehow
through cold rain of
insect-stung steel
cause
that was back then
wasn't that?
cause now
she is all
opened up
on open road...
carrying my needy ass again
she sounds
like a ten
out of ten
and she carries
me and mine and
our kid
eyes full moon
our kid
what me made
we made
she marries
our nineteen eighty
static images
small town to suburban
to urban...
she crosses
the many states
of miss america...
compelling
telling
turning
toward all
our consciousness...
always
a great distance
incomparable
like steel
and flesh
a safe way aways
sending up steam
behind lawn-hose-sprays
ribbons of rainbow
summer hydrant
waters
in our war against
the roads we travel
residuals
washed off her
then quiet dripping
in the garage
we leave her
safely kept
a safe distance
while we send up steam
beneath showerheads
in our home...
safely kept
steady-dripping
the day's residue
toward the drains
a way
aways
leaves us
-fin-
Showing posts with label alaskan king crab. Show all posts
Showing posts with label alaskan king crab. Show all posts
Monday, 25 February 2013
Friday, 18 November 2011
Citizen # K (subsection A)
Imagine, walking around all day behind Citizen #K
She got the tempwork off some market app on her smartphone. Yeah. Probably play was where she shopped. Right after coldcuts cooked in a rice cooker with just a bit of olive oil... okay, water will suffice because we have no olive oil no stovetop no facilities and no mind after it all. Call it the redeeming virtue of the conscious woman today. She has a nose for inventory. She will arrive the very day the prime rib and the leftover Alaskan king crab legs are let go. She catches the loaves of bread on MLK. She flaunts her strategic coverage of the most coveted recyclables. Okay she dumpster dives like a champ. Lets repeat it, Jim, and this time notch up or two the amp.
All she had to do was provide electronic signatures on top of her email address and the # of her phone. She could talk however she wanted, with false accents or simply drooling monotone. She figured minimal interaction with the world might stem her heavy feeling of being truly alone. Sure, she might never look her authority in the eyes, or meet coworkers for calzones or talk in escalated excitement of motivational capitalist ideology.
Girls were almost expected at times to jump into falsetto, she remembered, having been a corporate slug for a horrible epoch in her twenties. She saw the stressed out blood green ghost on the sixth and seventh chords strike out from the roots of her beautiful long dishevelled hair.
She found herself, she did. Post some toilet paper diploma bricking up the fast food management scene, headed toward airports and rental limousines. That was when her head fell in love with a bicycle she saw being pedaled by a young woman not unllike herself in age and carriage. Among all the industrious nonsense and heavy sounds of friction between metals and vacuum sucking and air pushing machine breath. Among all the crap that was baseline for any goddamn capitalist monster of a dream. Starfux takes no prisoners. Show up like soldiers, wear your uniform. Shine your teeth for the smile. Do not clock out late or dare stay a while.
She fell out just in the knick of time. Shook off the seduction of quarterly sales dinners and napa valley small batch merlots and pinot noir to polish you off and cast a vineyard cover of night over your dissipating understanding of hell on earth within the context of a six figure salary and hardly time to sleep off the corporate burn off of the true yearning for rat race recidivism rates skyrocketing and She turned over lots of her understanding to the phone. The phone now told her the time. Not the sun. The phone oriented her with its cool hd compass. She no longer learned how to get out of getting lost.
She got the tempwork off some market app on her smartphone. Yeah. Probably play was where she shopped. Right after coldcuts cooked in a rice cooker with just a bit of olive oil... okay, water will suffice because we have no olive oil no stovetop no facilities and no mind after it all. Call it the redeeming virtue of the conscious woman today. She has a nose for inventory. She will arrive the very day the prime rib and the leftover Alaskan king crab legs are let go. She catches the loaves of bread on MLK. She flaunts her strategic coverage of the most coveted recyclables. Okay she dumpster dives like a champ. Lets repeat it, Jim, and this time notch up or two the amp.
All she had to do was provide electronic signatures on top of her email address and the # of her phone. She could talk however she wanted, with false accents or simply drooling monotone. She figured minimal interaction with the world might stem her heavy feeling of being truly alone. Sure, she might never look her authority in the eyes, or meet coworkers for calzones or talk in escalated excitement of motivational capitalist ideology.
Girls were almost expected at times to jump into falsetto, she remembered, having been a corporate slug for a horrible epoch in her twenties. She saw the stressed out blood green ghost on the sixth and seventh chords strike out from the roots of her beautiful long dishevelled hair.
She found herself, she did. Post some toilet paper diploma bricking up the fast food management scene, headed toward airports and rental limousines. That was when her head fell in love with a bicycle she saw being pedaled by a young woman not unllike herself in age and carriage. Among all the industrious nonsense and heavy sounds of friction between metals and vacuum sucking and air pushing machine breath. Among all the crap that was baseline for any goddamn capitalist monster of a dream. Starfux takes no prisoners. Show up like soldiers, wear your uniform. Shine your teeth for the smile. Do not clock out late or dare stay a while.
She fell out just in the knick of time. Shook off the seduction of quarterly sales dinners and napa valley small batch merlots and pinot noir to polish you off and cast a vineyard cover of night over your dissipating understanding of hell on earth within the context of a six figure salary and hardly time to sleep off the corporate burn off of the true yearning for rat race recidivism rates skyrocketing and She turned over lots of her understanding to the phone. The phone now told her the time. Not the sun. The phone oriented her with its cool hd compass. She no longer learned how to get out of getting lost.
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