Wrush

The suspenseful declension inclined

clinal curves of conviviality.

It makes me smile, then shirk

…then smile again

eye rolling down into a shoulder shrugging rasp laugh.

{you gotta be quite-quiet when you live in an apartment}

Inclinations are just

as they ever are, even if others are disinclined.

A kind retired woman lives below my flat.


Kindly uncompassionate and compassionately unkind.

{or vice versa}.

The difference between merciless and unmerciful.

{or vice versa}.

Beta Testing the Block

I step out for fresh air.

A test of a weakness.

An ankle.

Something cut down before ampersand after it grew.

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A bit of pink on loam.

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Two sets of fox gloves, where before there was one,

for anyone to slip on.

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A well-placed curve.

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A root-ball as seen from one angle.

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Threads of scarf couple with a fallen blossom on the asphalt.

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The most-intense yellow mimics the fields of North Umbrian rapeseed pastures.

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Juxtaposed upon green.

As seen from a train.

Jack & Effie

Doping up our heroine, Jack is on a roll again. Five times in three months, she has been inexplicably incapacitated to the point of babble.

He should rest & shave.

He should do a lot of things. If he had finished that sculpture a decade ago instead of leaving a half-beast still frozen in marble, he would have been a million-air and taken over the Hisem (Cawlings secret organization). As it turned out, leaving town immediately became much more important.

Had he not doped up our female hero, leaving town would not have been the thing to do.  But, he did and now everything was on fire.

The relics knew.

The intuitives knew.

The floaters knew;

and, the world would soon know if he did not get water on the pyre and his ass out of town.

She was just too fun.


It was the sensational poster that he saw that made him realize what he had done. It was for the release of an album that should have come out in 1962 and today was 10/12/08.

The only thing weirder than seeing an ad for an album that has already been released is being the only guy who thinks that is weird.

Some birds just were not meant to fly?

Dodos? Zeppelins? And, her? And, maybe some cats should be kept in-doors.

But, Pet Sounds would be released next week.


All this esshit and after the chances he had effed up. He could have been the angel of justice if it were not for rock n’ roll. It was after the arm that should have been broken during his second punk show that had made the lord decide that he had had enough. This was supposed to be the next Jesus.

Besides, no son of his dyes his hair.

He could have been Cawling’s apprentice. No one ever wanted a fallen son of god more than that guy; but, then the whole beast/marble debacle happened and he was out;

and Pet Sounds would be soon, again.

Up he had effed, the cardinal rule.

He misused his power and now time was out of joint. The key had been exposed and it was his fault.  His dad had been right after all these years.


Jack sat outside of the mini-storage unit where his friends’ bands were practicing. He had collected funds; and, between them, he now had $43.79 USD.  His usual trips did not require cash, per se.  Being in the diving family has the benefit of a gas station attendant believing he owes you $36.75 USD in change after you paid him in monopoly money.

But, now he needed to stay under the radar.

No miracles today. Just a non-shaven, white guy who appeared about 35 and was currently wearing bunny-ears.

“You should probably take those off…”



Carol was about 15 years old when she started getting the feeling that she did not get something.  While 90% of adolescents seem to feel this way, Carol’s situation was unique in that she was justified in her paranoia.

Said feeling was brought to a-head with Jack;

and, he hated that foolish girl for it.

She was the reason this ridiculousness had started.


To say that Carol had that paranoid feeling may be misleading. It was her whole family that felt this way.  And, Jack’s dad had made this blood line for this purpose. Anyone with blood from the matrilineal side of Carol’s family had this feeling.  The reason for this was that they were prophets.  But, prophets that did not know they were prophets.

Having visions and knowing esshit in advance is commonly considered quite a psychotic feature.  As they were not psychotic, they were aware of the stigma associated and their own propensity towards appearing this way. Also, not being sent angels or anything for reassurance about these feelings could leave one feeling quite confused and alone.

Like there is a joke that everyone else is in on. The thing was: only no-one else was in on the joke.  It was like figuring out the end of a movie before the second act.

They just sort of always knew how things would turn out. They did not know why they knew; they just knew that they knew (at least in there in their more lucid moments). But, none of them ever told anyone else that they felt that way, for fear of the straight-jacket.

The same way most people do not say things like, “I think I am a prophet,” for instance.  Nor does saying, “you’re gonna die from stomach cancer,” help ease the weirdness.

Why would you tell someone something like that?

How did they know something like this?  Don’t ask them. They just got feelings that, from their mind’si, always seemed to be proven thusly.

VVöderland Notes from Parçigal

Underground currents,

conducted by Mæstrœs, at

certain key-stone sites where

lode-stones are ritualistic-ally, mystic-ally, and magick-ally

fawned over; and then,

pressed close-ally and

firmly into the lay-line

which will magnetize

the electric charge of

both Keystones & Lodestones,

(grail, cisterns, resevoir, from Latin ‘cista’ chest, arches, Ark, Lantern)

allowing the earth’s current to

be conducted to

those natural lay-lines sites that

just occur;

but, with an

increase in energetic out-put on

the scale of 150x.

Energy is pulled to the key/lode -stones; and,

held or redistributed by:

Maestrœs; Music Masters; Mæcens

using minnesingers; idiotēs; meisters; Mægens.

Magisters. fellows.

Hærlœts; a Lady; Maidens; handmaids; handmaidens

Milkmaids.


Hand

Made.

like a
A lice ntious ladder.


Maven; mavin; matron; knights; diabolūs, sons of Socrates, the ‘diatribe’


(“a private ind’l”)


Hermit. Hermetic. hermeneutics. Vermillion.

roses, swans, graal, gradalis, gra(d)al

scribes that transcribe

rishis, sannyasins, dervishes

Infants,

Mavericks,

Arhats.

The Hard Swallow

The hard swallow. Sometimes it feels good, sometimes it challenges.

Sometimes, it hurts good and proper.

At times, it just aches.

The taxidermist did a fine job.


Time cost. Moment to moment. What system of valuation do we use to assess our own choices?

Incremental, linear.

Exponential.

Scales of magnitude.

The red queen nailed a few posts into the ground.

At the last peg she told Alice

“Goodbye.”


Illywhackers once glib and smug now understand how

[frightened] and [scared]

are not the same.

Yet, no price replaces and no dream undistills

the realization that contrarians can be cowards.


The burning sun rises as my moon today.

A boudoir of meditation, breathwork, bareness

And open-secrets.

A saucer of milk for the feline.


Love split in two and i say i keep it with others.

The pitfall is when you need them to share it back with you on a busy, misunderstood day. Better to share it than to hoard it, but there may be

No blame, no

fingerbanging guns.

Is this when what was invaluable

becomes valueless?


The deer does not worry for the hunter.

The deer worries about all hunters,

categorically.