an orbiting
space colony."

I) Garden Greenroom, Battle Creek Funeral Simulation

Type writehead collide. Tap tap paper tie. Prolific
benign. Fill me throat cheap rye.

I breathe a funeral foyer. Me with glue girl Margaret.
Now she's kissing me. We drink gin till we can't see.
Pâté brunch for symposium. Pink balloons drape the
coffins. It reads no systole. I spill scotch on the body.

Shit smile prom night. Rational hick life. Self-hypnosis
guide. Exuberance lactize.

I hear a song on the radio. So I spit on the dial. Now
she's kissing me. We snort scotch till we're plastic.
There's a gimp with a yo-yo who say's Pepsi owns
Tokyo. He says pardon me. Let's bury the body. Hey,
hey let's drive to the grave. Now our cars are a gay
parade. He says, "Hey, hey. Let's drive to the grave.
We'll bury meat on a rainy day."

Human Landfill. I trip to walk.

Margaret hands me a Librium, I say "thanks for the
confidence." Now she's kissing me, my flask of Chaska's
empty. I stumble up to the podium, and push down the
Reverend. They'll yell, "Eulogy". So I pass out on the
body. Hey, hey fill in the grave. Shovel mud on a deity.
I say, "Hey, hey. Fill in the grave, then steal the
collection tray. Pack some mud on the pious meat.
Pack some mud on Uncle Sam.

God bless the grime.

2. Jeb And The Haymaker

"A touch of Earther rural folklore for the long trip."

I) Athens, MI; High School Graduation and a Bloody Nose

Below the thumb resides a prairie tagged Monhalo.
Old as dumb. Does slave labor. Vents for Chrysler. In
a hut made of branflakes and green egg cartons lives
a nun with skin like visqueen stretched on bamboo.

II) The Cosmic Wager

They met on a deer path. Uncle Lowell's a betting
man. I wager my nephew Jeb can break your face
in half. Now I've heard everything, but some chump's
'gonna balk. Come beside Nell's polebarn where my
haymaker's heating up. Autumn sun rolls on through
the dust of the Butcher's parking lot. When I'm done,
standing over your only nephew's bloody husk. I'll live
forever, 'cuz I'll fight anything. 'got chores to finish. So
let's start swinging. The ballcap hit the ground. Jeb
charged without a thought. The haymaker coiled back,
and launched Jeb's head off.

III) Hick Superstitions

And on it rolled through Lake Michigan and towards
the Pacific Coast; and some still say if you look real
close Jeb's head will roll through your legs.

3. Fairy 04:29

I) New Minneapolis, Sea of Tranquility on Luna

You can't walk today. Purchase and obtuse. I will
melt and flow a mile, but what sees Earth move when
you're dead. One vein flowing violet lead. You're
dead. Two veins spilling violet lead. Head wake
with fire. Sprinkle candycanes. Stick on everything.
Concealed and naked.

Liquid floats and conspires. One chance to lose. The
cherry syrup provides a line. It's funny how you can't
move.

II) Only a Sissy Would Live

Blue cat walks through ocean rooms. A wall of glass
to crumble. I said, "A string around and arm invites
fluid to fall down. To soak and tire."

Ice with practical mind. Numbness. Limbs fooled.
Extremities forget to tire. A palsy lasts beyond use.

Lord. I'll sear.

My computer is an ice cream scooper, and I love
dairy." - Laughing Man

4. The Squid 03:38

I) Dancing with Elvis in Cyberspace

She walks beneath a presley stare. Swivel hips a smile.
Pissed on morning charm. Shaves her head with a
lawnmower. Her toenails painted Jesus blood. Her
facial cake is mud. Chloroform and girl. Strolled to
the barstool, grabbed the pole. I heard her saying
"As I was walking. Yes, I was talking looking for the
sunset to give me nothing. I will hold you tight. Five
drinks later, stumbling in the moonlight."

Club stupid is a ginger house. The bar a welfare line
I think we'll start with gin. Then to scotch with a soda
chase. Slide across the marble floor. Through a pair
of doors. Volvo release a purr. Back on garbage. A
U-turn. I will hold you tight, eight drinks later speeding
in the lamplight.

The squid I say I am the world. Swank as heat my
style. Polished wingtip. Whirl. Stiletto sticking hairspray
curl. Sixty-two a year for you. Drinks and drugs go
round. My mind a razor blade. Rusty maybe, but fair
today.

I will hold you tight, ten drinks later dangling on a
clothesline.

Ya.

"I'm still waiting for Ron Wood to join us on this
one." - Crossoverture

5. Dante Dangling From A Noose

I) Michigan Avenue and a Smoke

I've lost hope for me today. Last pack of smokes. The
busstop's a bleak walk through hell. I'm drunk and lonely.
Ten cents could shred some time.

I've lost faith in me today. Clothes lacking style. Forty
left to construct. Bookworm. Sexless. The dropbox a
rude walk through hell. I'm drunk and lonely. Eight dimes
could kill some time.

Ireland cry seizure bound. A rouge from Holyhead.
Manhattan grotto lie. It seems so premarital. Well, I must
destroy myself. I have twenty dollars.

In hell, I'm drugged and lonely. Ten bucks could rape
some time.

6. Jack Frost Junior

I) A Spacesuit Full of Urine; On the Orbiting City of Kalamazoo

This coffee tastes distorted. A swank fruitcake
contemptible martyr, because I will. The nitrogen is
fine. It delves in to hypothesis and says, "young lad, so
mimical and used. You feel small. Simulated.
Advantageous."

So they kick you when you're down, but I'm Jack
Frost's son anyhow. Wearing my red shoes out of the
wreck.

Chill the backseat in an icetray. Foreign plasma drifts
on ravished moonrays because I sit. Endorphin thinking
fine. Poison pens scribed circumflected. Self respected.

"Amen", said the spine. Bisect and leer. "This diatribe
project through me and tear in."

Englishman with Martian women, you crawl back like
your Monday couldn't 'cuz I still hold you trendy style.
Wave fake bills. Bloody miles and wars fifteen million
minutes through elation and truce in K-Zoo.

"The wedding reception went great, too bad about
the inflamed thyroglossal cyst." - A Short Practice of Surgery

7. Pinto Award In Literature

I) After the Great Toronto Plague of 1998

Fake your death. Plant a bomb. A note with a dental
record. Move Away. Dublin's calling. Reserve a
Euroticket today.

This life is boring me. I knew it ever since thirteen.

Fake your death. Drive your Pinto to a pier on Lake
Michigan. Jump a train. Watch your Pinto on the pier
burst into flames.

I'll fake my death.

"Man, he's so punk. Writes his own 'zine. Does basement
shows. Plays in three bands; and he still finds time to
love his Mom's wallet." - Coffee House Leech

8. Soot On The Radio

"I must have hit something, by the look of the volume
of oil pouring out of my shuttlecraft, the radiator was
smashed off it's welds, crudely placed on the fan; which
was not turning. It had been a poor day. A day to forget,
and now it would accidentally last a bit longer, and that I
escaped the retarded outskirts of New Kalamazoo; and
had found myself drunk and stranded, already pissed about
the disastrous results my relations had turned. Standing
in a meteor storm at three a.m. Next to my fucked shuttle.
Time to get walking and follow the distant sound of late
night FM radio to the population quads."

I) Mate Housing, Lovell Street; New K-Zoo

Now if I stay a bit too long. To find myself all too lost.
Come push me down. Come beat me down. I deserve
all that came. A sad walk fifteen miles into town.

So if I play with a tomb. I cannot think. I cannot lose.
Come hold me down. Come crush me down. I reserve
a chance to learn. I gave up hope for my world. There's
nothing to give in, you're my plastic girl.

So if I moan from the looks. Afraid to move. Afraid to
stay. Come give me a drink. I need a drink. I'll light a
smoke on my way. There's no hope for my world.

9. Watercolour Grey

I) Clone Swap Seminar, on Io's South Pole

Half man. Lathe Secada died, thus causation be
concomitants. I'll empathize, like grangers melting
chocolate drip smeared on Dublin ties because your
laughing on with a memory. Laughing while I berate
myself. I wasn't there for the landslide that's coming to
terrorize you.

Up she yawns time to shake. Waking up for her new
day. Combing out her grease paint hair with a smoke
and a coffee. If your God is fake. Scarred like you on
your new day. I will come and paint your face
watercolor grey.

Maudlin. Thespian conspired. Our county fair revisions
lay red and atomized. Some pompous phrases on wine.
My combine splits the sky.

I'll be with you again.

10. Sharron Sours

"Before the Atlantic/Pacific Desert, I used to travel to
England for the Holidays."

I) London at Winter; 1993

Oh, on yesterday a taxi cab stalled in the driveway. I
was perched on the windowsill. Grabbing snow in my
hand to watch it melt. My eyes are green to warmth. A
wine bottle snoozing with the snow. So pale the face
became gazing stoic from her backseat. Wine, all heat
within my cold. Wine, lug me throughout my hell.

What's your name? I trip around and drown in crowds.

And the air was crisp while I passed through the trash
of Camden. I pulled my coat airtight and walked
towards the last garbage fire. It seems an hour ago I
missed the last train for Hollyhead. Across the can of
fire her face appeared barely alive.

11. D.I.Y. Tranquilizers

I) There's Possum in the Morphine Fields

Miasma will befriend like a well oiled palm. The grass
is so green. The grass is so clean. Besides the oaks I
blink beneath one tree to flow. Amongst the stones I
quake within it's grave to spin. I'll spin.

I can't make any sense anymore. My verse falls empty.
Words now enemies. I'm going home.

There's one chance to be lost. There's one day I won't
be drunk. Goddamned, I'm bleeding all.

II) My Pills... Quick

To see no one. Must be my tranquilizers. Enlisting my
scorched Earth and barbed wire. I don't feel tranquil.
I feel confused. I am confused.

"I'm sick to death of the shit of hicks in turtlenecks."
- Old Man Lowry

12. Fruitcake And Cider

"...ye beware thy animals, thou art foul machines."
- King Kong Bible (toilet reader)

I) Hiding in My Sleep Depravation Tank

Some people say there's something wrong with me
and the animal kingdom. I tell them because they don't
know we're being observed. When you're at my
apartment, don't pet them. Don't let them know we're
on to them; and I tell my wife, "Madalin, don't let
them in." It's not easy trying to convince people of
the conspiracy. At least the NRA believes me. I say
there's still a chance to pile them up. A building sized
mound of burning fur. I decided to make a trip to
Binder Park Zoo yesterday. I threw letters into the
cages saying, "I know who you are. Tell God to please
leave me alone." I can't watch. I can't think. What's
going wrong? The cockroaches in my cupboard are
always smiling at me when I reach for the corned
beef. I can't read. I can't sleep. What's going wrong?
Even with my pets; dogs and cats among them; 'cuz
everybody knows pets are just camcorders for God.
Staying close. Watching and filming my actions. Drunk
in the bathroom. Smiling in my car. On the sidewalk
asking for a cigarette. Or even when I'm good.
Betrayed by my cat. I swear, It's always my cat.
Always my cat.

13. Atomic Stroller Helps None

I) East Campus, WMU, New K-Zoo

Burrow with the moles. Wary of mankind's outcome.
No sunlight. Selfless night. To love none. Atomic
Stroller comes. Glides through the Southside of town.
K-Zoo blood. East Campus. Hide amongst the books
within tunnels forgotten. Preclude war. Velvet skies.
It's not that I want you to bathe in my blood and my
cancer. It's just that I want you to bathe in my blood
and my cancer.

14. Bottomfeeder

"This was the last night I had on Earth. My home
town was dismantled and transferred to the halo of
Jupiter, and I went with it."

I) New York City, July 4th, 1994

The skyline burns on Manhattan. She sat with me on
top of a warehouse. I said, "I'm so lonely. I think it
makes me sick; and I'm sure God's come to destroy
me."

Michigan man quits the freeway. Strikes bargains
within the entry. Screams nonsense at the fools in the
alleyway. Finds solace sniffing bags of all my candy,
but it's cold; and it's so hard when you freeze.

II) Come to My Flat

Sit around. Sit on blackened heels. Choke on
someone's spit. Dig churches in the pavement. I
Can't walk. I think I've arrived; yea, my wallet's
thick. I could leave. You will not care here, but I
care. I care. Contrive. Concourse to produce, 'got
lots a cable. 'got a bag of hep tools. Electric paint. I
want a set of chairs, and my ceiling drips. I could
leave because I am nothing. Cheap as the wine.
Cheap as expensive gets. 'got a broken figure. Not
malfunctioned head. I want that dream. I hurt to
talk. She's disagreed. I could leave. I'll wind and
bind. I'll wind and bind. I am machine. I am my
father. You want this walk. I could leave.

III) Tompkin's Park

Mist forms and exhales in the cold December air.
She digs deep in her pocket for a half smoked
cigarette. A bottomfeeder 'got jealous. Struck her
face with a tire iron. Black clumps of park sod mix
with blood in her hair. Picks herself off the cold
ground, and starts to walk. Her face is bleeding.
Bleeding for you. Picks herself off the cold ground
and starts to walk. I can hear her screaming.

"My love for you has never been so misunderstood."
- Jane