olden-paint

A Shining Chance

Marauding

Spike, Cordelia, and Soup

Umajongo

Cricket

Round

AdamandEve

olden-collage

sumberdream

bruxing whiskertwitch
cocoon tunnel wriggletwist
grind grin
sniff snivel scratch
jump pounce prance

injun gypsy fair + marketplace
brickshell tatters
smokeshadows
janglescent finery
contraptions + kebabs
spiced air spiked fair
shoddy baublegoblin

lurking shadow predator
behind the vacant banisters
railings staircase fire-escape
plated weapon walls for the taking for defense

plucked-skin pucker-pilled
speedbump sunburnt
delicate vulnerable nudity desperation
flaring-eyes flap-mouth
bitter barbs beneath bumped breast

flopfish stomach flutter-eyed flirtation
finally first

faint to cracking far reaches
frenzypitch hysteria to thrumming humming chest-rattling bass
fiddle the knobs and fwip the sliders
fuck up the tone and freak out the harmony
fade to the softly grumbling familiarity

revelation of return revealed by amberlit rain
running to babble over the body strewn with hay
widow! weep for the days of uncertainty
and gabble for the great all-else

the lungs are anchors the weeds are chains
and here's the pummeled pulsing grave
for molly, mulleted, drowned at 32

shrimp trumps plankton
mackerel trumps shrimp
tuna trumps mackerel
shark trumps tuna
but any fish is better than this bag of chips I've got.

bicycle

hello mr typewriter and how are you today? well, here we find ourselves again. let's write of something truly grand... like

like finding yourself upon the bicycle, wind in your hair and sky in your feet (because, you see, the bicycle flies, of course) as the puffballs of cloud drift past you scootscootscoot and some of those cloudpuffs are golden and white and they look like mashed potatoes (mmm) but then there are the cloudpuffs which retain that golden hue and mix it with red so bright it hurts to see (oh silly, those aren't clouds at all, those are treetops, brilliant fucking treetops) and oh to ride your bicycle on a crisp autumn sky like this, well fuck man, it's beautiful;

but you've got to land sometime, the sky doesn't go forever;

and this jagged jutting hipbone-sharp silhouette of mountain seems just fine

so alight on the crags and let your bike rest for a time while you carry on along on foot and skip on up the mountain path with sharp-creased steps and bouldrous hedge;

and look into the koi pond and watch them slip and sunder and dance;

and sunder and dance and slip into the ocean that the ground underfoot dissolves into (the ocean lives in the mountain? yeah, of course it does);

and kick your legs and look into his eyes, because there he is, the monstrous fucking squid in the ocean in the mountain;

and there you are, the monstrous fucking all of it in the ocean in the mountain

ah, let the tide carry you back to shore, lie on the sand and dress yourself in kelp and grin at it all in the damp morning light;

coffee! coffee! coffee would be lovely, so stroll into town and into the quaint little wooden room, and drink your coffee and eat your newspaper articles and just keep grinning because god knows you can't stop;

and it's a lovely morning for a bicycle ride, so hop on, cowboy! ride into the sunset oblivion of the upcoming cliff and

l
i
f
t
o
f
f
.
.
.

"o no! de jungle's on fire! de jungle's on fire!"

a short story
by kali caspar asitwere delano

onceatime there were a prehensile rat and it swang through the trees left and roundabout the jungle. and as it swung through the creepmoss branches it came upon and through a verily billowous pffcloud of smoke scented of treefruit. so she scramblislid to the pulsing caves in the roots of the trees and she said to herself, "maybe i wait here a bit."

so the phoenixtree puffed on and spun in raindropripples and waited to dance with the passersby and swing about in circles all gravitating horizontals. of course, it couldn't go anywhere, all bondaged to the silver winevine. but it was fond of imaginating.

they gathered around to watch this spectacle of the imaginating tree, all the denizens of the jungle:

the adambears and ouroborosnakes and beeatles and manopuses slapping grandmothers and the daviducks and the nude harlequin and picasso's zack and mary and the onions and the dutch and x's tentaclehead and hespeth and the paisleybird and grace and spike and bernadine and the skull and the owl and the elephantparade.

garuda scorned, the jewelbug sulked on the tobacco tree and made smalltalk with the french legionnaire, camel in disrepair, longing for the affections of his lady the prehensile rat.

but she remained all wombed in the roots while the tree read the bhagavad gita.