"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



at about 60 i developed a new laugh  not a cackle exactly

though one brother anointed it  mad  as in: u sound insane  ape



now bug off


but u know   there is truth in madness  +this laugh  is  the truth

it has balls

it has legs


it is a reaction-formation against 60 fucking years of being largely

polite   caught in the craw  like cassandra unhoark   (ewww)    ok

how else to describe it?


an instinct?

a bloodluster er?

quite possibly


it once escaped as a cousin was bloviating on her dead father’s

goodness  the resulting fracas even bigger than the  original sin

for this i was called  hitler’s evil twin  even as a child !


so  should i keep the laugh  or ice it?  laugh exorcisms are costly

so too being possessed of a  madlaugh  who cackles   the truth

like shit through a goose



(No one is ever more his/herself than when they really laugh..

their defences are’s very zen-like.. George Carlin )


Spring 2021   ..unlaughed laughs cause hemorrhoids..


throw mama from the train

trixie the prostitute  (heretofore to be known as the mohandas)

born the same day as mahatma  u need to be well versed in jerry

to get this   there is a goiter joke embedded too



goiters are a constant fear   fissures too   when u

toss your dresses  +shave those tresses !    what

becomes of u?


u grow

in leaps



u become  u

but more

u become someone


who can

catch a speeding

bullet  between



something trixie could never do   the dresses were

heavy   so too the tresses  red  +dripping with a kind of



when what u really needed to be

was  u

sans the


of the




Spring 2021


frogs boils neighbours locusts

it’s about the frogs  he said  the neighbourboy  written up

in the paper on saturday  now a billionaire developer in bed

with DiNiro  an investor in Canada’s first Nobu  a grifter niece’s

favourite resto


but back to Guillermo   he was dimwitted as a boy  and i could

make him eat dog shit   i didn’t  but i could have  he later lied

on his med school personal statement   +didn’t get in


touting imaginal hardships  like the time our poodle ripped

every hair out of their maid’s head   his mother  a crass jaguar

driving bitch   once pushed me to the ground   hard   i was 5


her moustachioed daughter had followed me down a laneway

to the frog graveyard   frogs decapitated   splattered entrails

surprisingly ungreen


this family watched us eat  through our window  across from their

toilet   where we once heard the father shrieking   as his sphincter

which was quite tight   finally opened


it is doubtful DiNiro

has been apprised

of this



Spring 2021



he shot a man in reno

my child client:

would you still love me if i

murdered someone?


and i would help you

understand why

and try

to make sure it doesn’t  happen again

when you get out of prison


reflecting on the apocrypha  of a life

now lived in  facebookcrevice  where

70 something cretins  wax poetic on:  my bros life


he was the original king kondo  he started a fund for 

shot students after kent state  became the UN raconteur

on mass shootings    all the while impish grin glinting




with a side of selficide


but  the stories still trickle in

i saw him ball 5 chicks   at once  


some liars   too

all glamping in your glory


run with it bro

now sprung from

starfuck prison





Spring 2021  .. for M.A. ..75 in 3 weeks..RIP..


will u still feed me? will u still need me?

did u know there’s a run on wills?  my lawyer

broke this to me on the eve of my 64th birthday

after a harangue about his mother’s dead friends

he said:  there’s a 3 month waiting list


that is tantamount to saying:  call me if you die


and i will


from the grave



Spring 2021

not recommended reading🚫

i have 3 times told the living  they are dying

why is there so much fear here?  contamination

by the stench?  smell that smell?  or is it   witness protection?


i mean cancer isn’t smallpox  or is it?   Tolstoy writes

of the lie  in Ivan Ilyich   no one will tell the dying man  that

he is  dying   but when u do   they let go   u know


probably u do not


but i do   and i do not consider the skill   hero   hell no

it came to me  unbidden  unloved  unkempt too   death

the primal exit of sacred substances   ain’t pretty


blood   fecal   ruach   et al.

(unless they vacuum them post-haste)


that skill just showed up  like the pox or the plague  or God

u know when God shows up  it usually spells trouble  like old

Kronos eating his kids  do mother Gods eat their kids too?


some do

some humans

do too



Cancer ridden Ivan Ilyich  to his doctor:

won’t you ever be ashamed of your lying?  but

the cheerful doctor does not wish to understand

such a question.. (The Death of Ivan Ilyich  Leo Tolstoy 1886)


Spring 2021   ..gestation your 1st tentacle.. lying doctors your last..

apeocalypse now

the apocalypse of ape  seriously

aging family of concern   aging ape    but wait!


whales are gathering at the edges now  spouting+spuming mobys

as variants rage  stress cuts holes deep into the ur-terior   and this is not good


as i plead with them  not to take my old mother  to that other gulag   on bathurst

they rub oily hands together   and stare at me  with fishyeyes   (gator’s got yer granny)


what’s the date ape?  (omg the date?!)

what’s the time ape    (this is sounding a lot like little red riding hood)


you may be entitled to 15 years post-escape   should you grow a pair    ape

otherwise they wait  in lairs decorated with  Prada+Chanel  +some sailors


the last temptations of ape   social worker named piggy   teeth aglinting

says: the better to eat u with my dear  (neardead)  little poetmorsel






Spring 2021


uncomfortably numb

i was born too alive     way too

do u even know what this means?

giantitus of the senses   gulping  choking  vomiting   beauty


sweetjesus  that’s bad  save me from  sensory overlord

Fritz Perls   father of  Gestalt Therapy©️  said:  lose your mind  

and come to your senses   u loafers of the soul  


this for the halfalives  semi-brain dead  mindfulness meditators

go suck a blueberry until yer blue in the face  you are a race

frozen to sensation   lust is not yer middle name


woe though  i have recently come to know  how u  don’t  feel

my alive is dead-inside    it’s a long story   but i did hear a retort

as the social worker  brandishing an M16   offered my 100 yr. old    mother



choice suite in palliative

just because she’s pretty


Spring 2021 hurts to be pretty..

a key teaching of F. Atkins circa 1965

brown eyed crone

the thing about grey hair is  u join a club  instantly  and u are not

a joiner of clubs  while u might still be a brown eyed girl   no one

really cares  what colour your hair  when balling u behind a stadium

(silverlining of cronehood)


u are now someone who  isn’t just called m’am  but  goodlookin cougar      (ouchhhh)

by wayward men in alleyways   said men siddle up  +through toothless

smiles  ask if they might drool on your fadingstarlight    sure  why not?


this transformation also leads  to being slipped the answer  by

hungry sailors  +players  hopefully pre 65   but back when u were

25   there was a charlatan  with a chicken to pet  around every corner


good example: a biz acquaintance of a bro with 2 planes  hounded u

for a date  back in ’83   he was gnomish  with zillions  he said: a woman

like you  i’d take to the opera  in Prague!    (send a chopper  now)


i fled from the sad breakfast he’d prepared   +rheumy fingers

touching thighs    joe    joe      u still alive?







glad i’m jung + not a jungian*

if u tell a jungian yer pregnant  they take it

as a metaphor  for?  I’m full of life  rife with life

gestating the Godhead ? 


a weird crew  but also the most open +limpid

bunch u ever want to meet  my young nephew

dragged to a jungian lecture  Montreal 2015ish



they’re so weird ape    ya sonnyboy  cultish vulcans  


+he’s a filmmaker  watch out world    one woman  eccentric

+a tad creepy  said often: what’s a Self??  in a high pitched   tremelo


but WTFDIK  u figure it out  which in jungian terms means:

go grapple with yer grandmother’s shadow   sounds like fun

but not if my grandmother is yours



Winter 2021  ..*C.G. Jung on his sycophants..



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