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



On my street there is a rickety rickety man  inexplicably

tying string to the pickets of his rotting fence   without

evidence of epiphany   Somewhat like me  (+you?)  after

last night’s episode of True D  on cable tv


Beyond smouldering stares+zombie glares  there is a

cacophony of post-apocalyptic caricature   Not that there’s

anything wrong with that    Imagine a gangster +his mono-

syllabic wife   perhaps A.I.   discussing fertility treatments in

their  Neutra home   A scene straight out of the Twilight Zone


The one where in the reveal  giants appear over the heads of said

couple   And you know what happens next    I won’t candy-coat it

Though I am beginning to wish that time was in fact a flat circle 

Hands up all who miss Rust Cohle  philosopher king


It is my sincere hope that Nic Pizzolatto gets some therapy    I no

longer suspect he has PTSD  just a serious case of Rod Serling envy

The rickety old man has an emaciated wife  who stands on the stoop

croaking: Run for your life     Sadly unlikely for me   with a startle

reflex stuck on ON   + a bulldog given to the mailman  back in 1963





Summer  2015

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