Housewives slur before the elegant bleak,
black monsoon before it's time,
like the whiskers of an elephant
on an obfuscated line.

Ripped suddenly and violently from the peak of serenity, I am thrown face down onto the cold hard concrete, which quickly becomes awash with my own blood, streaming endlessly from my mouth, nose, ears, eyes. Fingers broken, back hidously bent and twisted, ribcage crushed, I lie and simply watch as the blood engulfs parking meters and fire hydrants. Passerby slip and fall in the gooey muck, as cars skid and slide, spinning out of control, smashing into concrete embankments, pedestrians with their children, trees, lamp posts and houses. The level of my outpourings of blood rises to engulf buildings, obscuring hills and filling valleys, drowning the sun and moon and all the stars and planets. None of this is real. This is the first stage of a sort of enlightenment which I have been working very hard to achive for most of my adult life.

Brakes squeal in abandonment, astonished by the direct lack of substance or vowel, mechanism or perverted god, lamp post or whore. Limbless babies eyeball us suspiciously as we crawl across the refrigerator door, steel mechanical testicles dangling from gold chains attached to our ankles. Limply we hang, shapeless and typographical, in our mouths the skins of aeroplanes, in our hearts the bangs of noir.

Were it not for the sudden occurrence of mutilated typewriters falling from the sky like unpainted trains, crushing the heads of infants as their keys go blind, I would be tempted to enwrap myself in shuddering helicopter blades. As it were, I can no longer bear the incessant wails of the tens of thousands of cups and saucers that presently perch precariously upon the backs of my eyelids.


I have sucked the desert silent and it has made me calm.
To be a vulture seeping honey from a soft reclining tower.
To be a fencepost of desire, a relaxing soothing bomb.

A sudden lapse of vowels causes the horizon to collapse. A bishop coughs up several black helicopters. A crippled Eskimo neglects to swallow a horse. Several giraffes are exposed to complex mathematical equations. An inverted mushroom causes several mishaps involving heavy machinery. Men in suits silently murder an orange peel. An angel seduces an operating table under the blackness of blank insect chatter. An awkward pause declines to make love to the sister of an unfortunate accident. Various bodily functions become confused and cease to act in a rational fashion. Despite their seeming similarities, none of the above events have anything to do with each other.

Elderly gentlemen emit from the screaming mouth of night depraved of the sound of thousands of clacking typewriters.


Thou Shalt Not Bleed From The Ears And The Mouth Simultaneously, And Furthermore Thou Shalt Not Brag About It If Thou Does Not Intend For This To Happen But It Happens Anyway

I wake up one morning to discover that, horror of horrors, the sun has risen and light has spread like melting butter on a hot pancake over the whole of the land as far as I can see. Further attention to the matter draws my witness to the seeming fact that my entire body has somehow become covered with skin, which further alerts me to the sober realization that all objects within sight, myself included, are seemingly attracted to the surface of the earth, thereby preventing me or them from floating away. I cannot but speak with broken mandible, for the sky has become mute and the umbrellas are screaming.