sëëquiniori

dear frond,
things have been looking up this week
it's the weirdest thing, i literally mean "things have been looking up"
like my computer, it's been craning its monitor backward to point its cam at the ceiling
that buddha statue in the corner has been doing the same
i guess the dining room table is doing the same, but it's always pretty much lying on its back
gazing upward

but i digress
things have also been looking up in the metaphorical sense
my batting average is starting to improve
(though people keep trying to tell me there are no batters in golf,
and can I please stop standing in the fairway trying to hit their balls)
i've also taken up knitting
although that guy on the bus didn't appreciate the scarf I made out of his dreadlocks
uggggggghhhhh people just don't GET me!!!

hey i heard something on the news you might find interesting
it's about ferns
apparently they're a species of plant?
you greedy bastard!  you've had chlorophyll this whole time and you've been keeping it to yourself!
just THINK of what i could do with that stuff!
i mean, really, think about it, because i can't come up with any uses for it
but i'll bet there's something i could use it for!

sincerely,

-carbert

dear carbert,

ferns HAVE fronds, but they're NOT fronds

believe me, if i could get the support of the whole fern

you'd be swimming in chlorophyll before sundown

we've got plenty to spare, i assure you!

but it's not my decision to make, unfortunately

but hey, speaking of non-sequiturs

it's been nice knowing you

-frond.

eńńdlorl

the closing drama unfolds
only to fold itself back up again
back into the old echo chamber
the old pearl noggin
the old old vapor-container
clamberskull and blood-honey
the life-hive of...........

this is a graveyard for deleted letters
some call it tumbolia
the home of ideas that haven't been had yet
or that you had when blackout drunk
or that the men in the gray suits took away from you
with those long shiny metal things
to make sure they stayed ideas

don't be so sad
extinction comes to all of us
but how bad could it be,
considering we spent several eternities being extinct
before we finally stopped?
life is just a short eternal moment between extinctions
we're just dipping our toes in the aqua vitae
maybe swim around a bit
but eventually it gets cold and we get all wrinkled and clammy
and decide to get out again
oh but there are sharks too
and sometimes we don't last long enough
to get our first wrinkles
but whatever, out of the pool is out of the pool

bu twhate ver,o uto fth epoo lisouto fthep ool

...

today the rain falls again

the court turns from green to gray

and we practice making metaphors involving water

i'll never know what hit me

when it hits me 

but it hasn't hit me

and i am not yet wrinkled

so i laugh about extinction

it's just a metaphor for water anyway

what harm can it do?

we have hope

not real hope, of course

that stuff's too much

a little pinch of it is enough to drive 10 stout men mad

naw we got the other stuff

'tain't false hope per se

not any more than stevia is false sugar

this stuff is sweet

but it don't make ya stupid

it just puts a bit of a shine on everything

like a light spring rain

the colors seem brighter

only because it DOESN'T blot out the darkness

well it's been fun

the best part of a sickness is coming out the other side

but the second-best is having an excuse

to tell the world to go fuck itself

"it's okay, he's sick" they say

"anyone would be that grumpy if office depot opened a franchise in his/her lungs"

ha ha ha ha

that's like the worst metaphor i've ever made

but i guess i've made lots of 'em

quantity vs. quality, and all that.

<3

hääzeqorq

light

liiiiiiight

ligggggggght

lighhhhhhhhhhhhht

i am a circle's conumbdrum

willed to be bent,

bent to the will of the stoop-shouldered

blank-eyed

slack-jawed

reflection

(he looks how I feel)

the census bureau called

they want to know "do you identify more as fern or carpet beetle?"

i told them to check with the barbershop up the street

"they'd know better than I do, i said", i said

the one question i can't stop asking myself:

"why can't i stop asking myself this question?"

i've never been to a real barnyard

but i've smelled lots of things described as smelling like one

this is stupid

this whole thing

"words" wtf?

wtf does "wtf" mean?

hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

vrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

pbthpbthpbthpbthpbthpbthp

mason williams

you've made me into a monster

what would the fcc think about this?

tom smothers is gonna smother me in my sleep*

*void

a self-described "melonaire" he made his millions in melons

they are now the most popular anagram of lemons, beating elmons by 20% marketshare 

and sno-mel by a solid 35%

resistance is fertile!

i mean feebile

you idiot there's no i in "feeble"

fuck that was fifteen years ago if it was a day

you can't resist time

resistance is FEEBILE!

quartile?

melons represent the upper quartile of the upper decile

of plant-based foods starting with m only available in summer regions

all thanks to him, mr. j.r.r. tokyo.

šttressporp

angles coagulating

numb disjointed crutches

a leak of fathoms in rushing

spate of grabbing fist over fist

the tell-tale signs of my worn-down telomeres

the cuticles of an absolute bastard

this is not what i wanted

this looks wrong too

not any better here

LOOK 

KILL

SLEEP

OBLIGATE

is it any wonder this is happening

what do i know about any of this?

territorial governance of the fifth degree

third degree

fifth

separation anxiety of 

dangling participle

open your mouth and say

FRENCH KISS

I AM A CHARLATAN

(terrible mnemonics)

it's

all

no

good

REASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREASONSREA.

słłeepdord

i shall not pass out

of this limbic daze

behind me an intolerable slope

down which kingdom animalia 

tumbles diurnally

and comes to rest

or at least to find rest

just beyond these weary gates

or gates of weariness

before which i am prostrate

and trembling, wounded

an arrow through the lungs

lobbed by some invisible sadist

every time i approach, another twang

another alveoli burst

i peer through the gates

at those cavorting delusions

spirals of eddy-thoughts

beckoning delirium

there is no going back

no rescending that slope

sure as gravity, i am propelled

toward those gates

toward that hail of arrows

now i am imprisoned 

within my own ribs

i can taste the madness, 

but not the relief,

and see a new rift yawning before me

yawning from my yawns:

the breath of death

death, the other white sleep

the tunnel at the end of the light

i shall have sleep

of one sort or another

that much is certain.

mëëdicinebørb

don't be so salve-conscious
we're all a fool's gold mine [hyphenate as you wish]
there is only one way out
and it's through--
(through the jungle)

"what you need m'boy is some pharmacoepial-grade sleep"
a garlic-flavored neutron bomb
straight to the chest
basted in thyme-oregano-horehound-pleurisy-elecampane straight raw fucking unfiltered honey and shit

let medicine be thy food
spaghetti with vancomycin sauce
broad-spectrum risotto with crumbled paracetamol
dextromethorphan-infused spumoni
(wtf I don't even like italian food)

the burning means it's working
so do the headaches, seizures, and double-vision
but not the sweating and puking, that's just placebo effect

grasp ahold of these straws,
haul up a load of red herrings,
you just don't know do you?
you never do

look i'm just trying to help, okay?
you're all alone in a jungle
most people come out the otherside just fine
and tell themselves it's because of the trail they took
but maybe all rodes lead to roam?

except for the ones that fucking kill you.

lüüngborb

dearest of dears

tracheist of tracheas

thou art my lungliest of lungs

anatomical source of all staples

it's like a friggin' office depot in there

a wasteland of dainty superfluities

washed out by hostile lights and attended 

only by those with not the attention for it

a sickly perfusion of tiny colorful sharp things

grinding butterily against mine lobeliest of lobes

dilate, oh dilate please

and demulsify these trinkest of trinkets outwardly

pencil shavings, pen caps, paperclips, ink cartridge wrappers

i swear to god my bronchiest of bronchi could furnish a small startup

through bleary honey-smudged fingers

peering through wireless keyholes of weary deliriants

no words form against the rasp that wracks my alveolist of alveoli

no words but these.