graphlex

Ok sorry it's taken me a couple days to report, but here's the update. It's Tuesday. Friday was terrible, too cold say 70 and there were no clouds or smog or haze. Saturday was the same with a little morning fog that, sadly, didn't materialize into the wheezing nasty I've come to love from living in the LA basin. Sunday and Monday had promise. The temperature was about 85, 105 in Templeton and the elusive promise of haze that, as always only teased me and in the end it was clear and far too cool. Hopefully with global warming temperatures will increase and you'd think with the legions of SUV's from Fresno and Bakersfield, there would be some kind of smog developing, but so far no luck.

("No noise. No sound. No movement. Nothing.")

Out, out my damned heart tears,
My like a unreal world situation.
No good movement the dead you askew.
The Faire whether fowl, fowl so fair
Nothing so a Soul declares my knowing airs.
No assault on my HeyDay all begin
No looking at the Never am view

(No noise.)

She gave me an ever Disparaging Bodhisattva pen.
And I, in I and eye, I spied the great noise why.
Whereof this unpleasant Bodhisattva's kind eye
mends and rends pleasant mind all such men

(No sound.)

Who I am to start surprise why now sound?
If Shakabuku borrows my white lotus pool,
Am I everything's head?
Am I the great mind eye?
No, I am a god with a small Kenny G.
No, I am the Saint of MayDaybe.

(No movement.)

I and eye Never ask why I am the man
No chaos questioning the inner werefool,
no doubt out on world this kind Levy to the Chevy Soul
No for depressed stressed dessert eye and I surprise,

(Nothing.)

Hey Brother from another mother Kick the Can't,
in the why my truth or dare pleasant you view,
you are my like totally gnarly situation anew.
my patron saint of quotes cut up out of context.

And now the COIT U.S. City-lit Shakabuku Bodhisattva sound lies
And, in my pen, towers the dead noise of a no Beat heart movement.

("No noise. No sound. No movement. Nothing.")

Why is it when my dog comes into the bathroom when I'm doing my business be it standing or sitting and gives me a disapproving look (for spoiling a otherwise good waterbowl in his mind I suspect) and it really doesn't faze me, yet when I walk around singing opera it unnerves me when he looks at me with what appears to be a look of pained disdain I stop singing in embarassment?

A note about toilets and dogs, I can't help but think dogs are really puzzled by humans practice of pissing in what to them must seem like the most miraculous waterbowl (it's always filled).

In fact, I suspect dogs are confused about a lot of things humans do.

Cats on the other hand are another bowl of wax.

The Chevy to the Chandra Levy Love Affairs of State
don't Bonny Raite much textual attention these days,
other Kurds and Wheys have wrested that muse
from the fuse she was always a lighting
from the textual to the sightings
from Naked Brunch of the girl
who was never there
with her whirling hair
and nary a cacaphonic care
I chased that hare for far too long
she was more than just a girl I want
more than some poetic idyllic cunt
an object of my clean room obsessions and
prolonged adolescent nocturnal emissions
not to mention delusionary transubstantiations
but I digress out of duress and beg
your forgiveness, unless you wanted to
know why I lie at night wishing on Rock Stars.

The punch, the power, the shit and the flower
and all good followers gather at the anointed hour.
And still, Soul Searcher, the fallen John Bircher
revels in the ballet daffodil and the smile of her.

In the distance, Paper Jam, the Honky Rasta Man,
scurries in the pubic underbrush with a secret plan
to steal and defile the Sacred Self-Righteous Rug,
and free us from the hapsappy Middle American Drug.

Are we dwelling with Italian Carbines grassy knoll telling?
Do we have the shot? Can we make the shot?
A head that filled with snot must be infected,
and from this we must be protected.

Jesus for brains insane Kennedy?
Lee Harvey Fallwell?
And in the background, Malcom Nixon ne Racer-X watches waits
for Marica Brady Onasis to fall into his lust.

Marica Marica Marica
The truth is out there….