rock skipping

A rock skips on its toes’ tips

across Looking-Glass Lake.

It is true that what you do not know can hurt you;

and, in doing so, cause you pain you do not rightly sensate.

You just know it hurts.

Onkwehónwe {ref. Kanyen’keha}.


And, the phrase, “nobody cares” set the captives free and captivated the enslavers.


Your apophasis disinclines my disposition towards you.

“That would be my preference,” says B., the scrivner.

So. Let him. He simply wishes to copy the original documents into his longhand.


Pedantic pandering over over-excitabilty.

A knockout; A decision; A draw.


You’re not like most people.

You’re right. I’m only one person, not the multiples comprising most. Extraneously speaking, I distrust the correlations derived from “most people” statistics. They never draw from a supple, sufficient, sample population.


Elevate your base


despite not proud,

you can remain unashamed.

Opening my dictionary

Charismatic people carry much telluric gravity.

Those working on their feet do not need to join a gym.

It’s that simple?!: he asks incredulously.

Neither of us are simple, but

we are both, rather, basic.: I reply

What is the difference between transcribing and transcryption?: he asks

I don’t know.: I say.

Huh, me neither.

Your eyes are hard and wild.: he tells me.

I know.: I tell him.

And it turns me on when you aptly identify an argument as inane.: I add

Blahblahblah: he giggles in response.

Filthlessly ought to be an adjective because it describes the subject ‘you’.: I say

It is a word.: he responds, opening my dictionary.

Period Pains – Homework (Peel Session)

No rights: homage.

/Do your homework/

/hand it in/

/do your homework/

/you can’t win/.

The newly hired, seventeen year old busser arrives for her fifth shift.

I have been training her; and, she is under the mistaken impression that she answers to me.

She walks up to me and says: I know I’m supposed to wear all black, but I felt like wearing green today.

She wears a lovely army-style green button down shirt.

Am I busted or does it really matter?: she asks.

Yeah, it matters: I laugh: They’re gonna make you go home and change, I bet, but talk to J.

J. sends her home to change clothes.

I think: she’s gonna fit in just fine, on this isle of misfit toys, if she can deal with wearing the uniformed colour.

Vellum pressed on wooden grain

You cannot awaken someone pretending to be asleep: he said.

Making a desk into one’s own.

Write upon me. Pleas: í say.

Priapus’ pen is pushing into papyrus; and, the

song of the sound produces a strange and intoxicating

ability within me to suspend mine own breath.

í hear your eyes speak to me:

If I dropped my pen to the floor,

how hard

would it be to convince you to recover it, for me, in your mouth?

And, if imagination is a precursor to reality, well,

í have got it in spades,

Howl í can only hope and imagine

Whomever, in this card game, takes the bid calls spades as trumps.

The sunny, shiny queen of magnets is also the

aloof, wide-eyed lady of looking-glass house,

and, wanting, to be

Your night witch.

Do the pillars ever leave or do they

simply appear

to leave as we move further closer




As we imagine our stillness to be actually motion in movement?

/venture forth and know me/, no-one man of wildest dreams.

Howl í howl when í say or do something wild,

like the sweet, little monster í am

And, you respond: I know.

Prove it, pleas/e.

Efficient Efficacy

The lunch rush of the little restaurant passes by two p.m.

I feel a hand lightly touch my shoulder.

How does being driven to distraction feel?: he asks.

Like being hyper-focused yet still clicking the submit button and immediately realizing your digital letter included a typo.: I reply.

Most people include typos in their writing, these days.: he replies.

Not me.: I say.

So your precious words betrayed you?: he asks.

No, they were instructive as regards the affect of your distraction.: I say.

So, I am effective?: he teases.

At the least, the effect you produce in me is no affectation on my behalf: I concede.

And, I wonder: will it still swim in my stomach when I return to handle the dinner rush tonight?

Push it along.


~Sometimes I wonder: what is there to write that cannot already be read?

⊙The difference between flowing from and flowing into?

~No. Those states occur, necessarily, in tandem. Like a rope, strung between two cans,

conducts the sounds that the speaker/s curate.

⊙A feedback loop within an open system.

~Why repeat yourself when you can simply read those notes your previous self left to your current self?

⊙On account of how forgetful you knew and know yourself to be?

~Especially when

you have been as long as Æ has been.

⊙Your stasis is my equilibrium.

~I am bespoke you are not beholden.

You are dear to me because you endeared yourself to me by virtue of you being precisely who you are, have been, and will be.

⊙ I think you are too short to push it.

~ You think too much. Plus, I am taller than many things.

⊙I think you talk too much.

~ Then shut me up. You know howl.


Ariadne Howls to Æ

How is it that, I, Ariadne, she whom gave you the string to trace your way out of this labyrinth, now finds herself strung along by it?

When did the slipped, sleeping pill take æffect?

Am I woke or lucid dreaming

Or sleep walking?

I came

from whence rhythm first flowed and then flew.

I return twice slain.

Yet, still

I return,

by choice,

hunting on my tip toes.