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



Day 5   Weedy + anathema   Now a script for every bodily +

disembodied  function   You will have REM   You just won’t 

remember them  said be-zitted young man  at the Med Pot

clinic   He spoke slowly  eyes furtive +darting    He doesn’t

even know what dreams are for


C.G. Jung is rolling in his grave   Dreams  the portal to the

oldest language before language   Will you sell your soul for

a night’s sleep?  You must give up birdsong too   They will

sing but you won’t hear them   But your pinball skills will be

greatly enhanced 


And the past 4 mornings  your face  recently emaciate  +worry

ridden  is silky of cheek  +25!   Once a lineless  unpancaked  young

woman   About to leave your young husband  Embark on an odyssey

out of  Purdontory  (*home address from 4 -19)  where your marriage

was arranged   His grandparents lived on your great great aunt’s street

In the ghetto  Palmerston Blvd.   Circa 1938


Some think you should return to brunette   But blood coloured hair makes

a statement   Now an old  1/2 crazed sister  with the face you deserve  walking

snowy April streets (*some guy in Oregon blames the Jews for snow!)  Yesterday

you explained the blood libel to husband #3   As you listened intently for the birds

you can no longer hear   Generally they have brought word of father  133 birds sat

at his knee on his last day    Now 29 yrs  +counting    Yesterday you saw him  but

don’t tell the  doctor..










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