Posts

Exit Strategy

EXIT STRATEGY

the door closes quickly
as a loud commotion
commences
there are still roads to traverse

it’s an exit strategy
the appeal of inner calculation-
your garbled gable senses
an advantage without a reverse

consent, complicating the totality
of our image- an irreversible reclamation.
this implied construct of allowence’s
deception could not erase the curse.

the archive of our functional commonality
dissipates in a hissing enunciation,
a sacrificial dissolution of the harnesses
that tethered every verse

this vapor of vacant tonality
delineates the idea of qualification
a predetermined absence of consequence
with lips coiled tight in a concealed purse

Peer Review

there’s so much to look at
and I keep looking and looking
and when I see I want to see more
and the more I see the more connections are made
and those connections
beget more connections that are tangential
they are related
a cousin
they are connected
by the sinew of commonality
of which I do not question
I just keep looking and looking
knowing that one day I will not see it all
but I will get my fill just the same

If Only for a Moment

in the bed
in the dark
where if anything were to happen
if there was even a chance…

in the dim flicker of the television
in the cool breeze of the evening’s end
the wine making the impossible seem
possible

if only for a moment

displayed like temptation
stretched out
laid back
an island, entire to itself

Skimbleshanks Cassette

shanks1987

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

from decaying cassette tapes — from basement sessions — proceed at your own risk

Wayside-Davies_Basement

Skimbleshanks_Wayside (from Sonalysts 1987, better version forthcoming)

Skimbleshanks_Underground Recorded on Thames Street, Groton, by 17 Relics, 1987

Royal_Blue – Davies_Basement

Riot_Act – Davies_Basement

Irwin – Davies_Basement

December – Davies_Basement

December_Live

Battery_Acid – Freitas Basement Mix_2

Battery_Acid – Debut at Dawn Party 1987

“Untitled” spawns new writing

TELETHON DAY

 

when I was ten years old

i had the opportunity to be on TV.

a speciality- my fifteen minutes of fame.

even as I had no idea who andy warhol was,

 

my appearance was paramount. I chose an un- folded

flannel shirt and my aerosmith belt buckle- to be seen

as if I belonged in the frame,

and not just another image for the television’s buzz.

 

his acceptance was astonishing. he would be told

there was only research and no cure. this path

would be the risk of treatment- the same

moment countless others faced had became ours.

 

while painting the house during the summer before,

he said he  would not be sold

on the science of folklore.

the telethon is being broadcast on the radio today-

they are raising money

Knotted

this may go nowhere
the electric razor buzzes erratically in the other room
charging
cleaning itself and
charging
and there was this urge to do something
in the form of words launched
they just kept coming
bunched up into phrases
scenarios
but under the influence of words
that just keep coming
me and the razor and the robot doing its thing
bubbling, whirring
and someone somewhere stoned as hell
thinking about it
that thing
and how it should fit in
or better yet, integrate
or forget about it all together
and take a nap

but no
instead
like pulses
and impulses
under no one’s direction
pushing at
pushing out
a smooth ripple easily washing over
and over
and over
like pulses
and impulses
and the razor and the robot doing its thing
but not without Humphrey
in the background
ruining everything with his ideas
on the condition of reality

With Aristotle

Aristotle in the back yard instead of raking the leaves that crackle and rustle under foot

Supposing that knowledge is one of those things that is fine and valuable

Considering each thought as it comes to mind – wondering if, fleetingly or otherwise, each is an action unto itself

Of these some are held to be affections peculiar to the soul itself, others belong to the animals

Falling behind the effort to keep pace as the awareness of every moment’s passing stacks upon its predecessor

the inquiry, that is, about substance and what a thing is — perhaps someone might think

Thinking about thinking, thoughts about thoughts, daydreams dangle loosely and tangle into knotty heaps

For straightness is inseparable if indeed it is impossible without a body

A murder of crows acts as a distraction and an awareness of my re-action drives me inside to seek refuge from the endless possibilities