red devil's horns
yellow-brown constructions gloves
suction arrows and a bow
origami boxes
eerie dolls
a glow-in-the-dark skull
drawings-sketches-polaroids of non-things
bubble maker bottles - and yesyes bubbles floating in the air
candles-candle holders-matches-lighters
zen tarot cards-ancient tarot cards
squares-rectangles-triangles of lace
hats and scarves and arm-warmers
and yes pink sunglasses that should belong to an alien

this is not a carni-show
this is my room during a spring cleaning 
(it is spring if i say it is spring)

(i wrote a little story
oh i felt it being written)
maybe i was again dreaming
and erased it through waking

song of myself

Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

Walt Whitman

notes from underground

"and before you know it, the object disappears, arguments evaporate; no culprit is discovered, the offense ceases to be an offense and becomes a matter of fate, like the toothache which cannot be blamed on anyone, and the only thing that's left is, once again, to bang the wall as hard as you can."

fyodor dostoevsky

bedtime stories - 1

little boy, little boy, what were you thinking? didn't you see the warning signs?
the road was blocked, and the vicinity was evacuated with good reason.
let's say curiosity got the best of you and you made it to the gates; the big whiny padlock obviously didn't stop you, and you thought the dancing shrubs were a hoot, but what about the headless chickens running around and the bleeding grass?...
did you think you were in an amusement park, and this was a fancy horror ride?

you did get to waltz through, though. didn't even realize the booby traps you set off...
just as you exited through the back door, the house exploded, collapsed, and burned...
it is an ancient house, it took awhile for it to respond...

you went off to save your little princess yes.
but little boy, be assured, the smell of destruction hides well.
you will smell the house on your dirty little fingers through time.
through neverending silly little quests, the smell will remain by thy side.

the house will rebuild itself, the headless chickens will be reborn, and the new shrubs will dance better.
but the next time you come around, the house will smell its own destruction on you from lives away.
the next time you come around, the gates themselves will eat you alive.
the house will make a lantern out of your skull.

little boy, little boy, what were you thinking?
this is a curse so strong, even your fairy godmother can't lift it.