Wednesday, May 13, 2009


A cross between a thump and a crack. A pigeon egg falling through the overhead netting at the underside of the overpass. The parents' brains are too small to notice. Just be glad it's not crap. Where are the redemptorists? Who are the redemptorists and what do they redempt? Invisible lines in the water, hooked food, a happy meal with dynamite inside. A place to relax. Death comes easily to the redemptorists. Who are the redemptorists?

Dangerous thoughts that don't lead anywhere. Dark places in the imagination that can get you arrested in certain states and definitely get you cut out of the inheritance in any country, even this one. Peking duck pizza, you might say, or actual peking duck. For the genuine article take a trip to Peking which is now Nanking which is now East Belgrade which is now New York which is now Flint, Michigan, which is now Seattle, which is no Pasadena, which is now Anaheim, which is now Stratford Upon Avon, which is now Annandale on Hudson, which is now Ham on Rye, which is now The Star Bellied Sneetch, which is now the Butter Battle Book, which is now Where The Sidewalk Ends, which is now holding half an acre folded in that scrap of paper which is now holding constancy in the dark which is now holding four of five cards to make a flush which is now holding steady in the face of age, terrible terrible age, which is natural and terrible.

You are natural and terrible. Your face is natural and terrible. Your mom is natural and terrible. You are natural and terrible.

When are the redemptorists, if not today? What do they think they will catch with their baited traps and five out of six packs of beer. Look, the battery. Look, a hot slut. Look, the statue of liberty with newly reopened crown. Look, water. Look, water. Look, something to drink.

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