Thursday, September 29, 2011


Some or more or less than some were speaking in general about topics of disinterest to others and themselves on ever increasing occasions during random periods of periods red-faced with seeing red to hide their crimes.  Cigar smoke covers their gonads networking getting to know the right people so right in the head head for their gonads.  

Brain Damaged Chapter from the "Gonadology"

Watch your flight is coming in for a crash landing
Insuring premium quality blends of organs
For the mixing
Insuring upping premiums
Pumping gas for the flames
Shaking legs together
Can't fold that way
People weren't meant to bend that way
Those ways
These ways
Suppose just suppose
For now for later
Way later no way
Those ways
People weren't meant to bend that way
Even though they try to
Suppose just suppose
What is it supposed to?
Run to away from
Running out of runway
Axioms no longer come out 
Dry empty fountain
Extra brittle for the escaping passengers
To scrape their external and internal worlds on
As they give the impression of sliding to safety
Suppose just suppose
People weren't meant to bend that way
Even though they try to
It's bastards all the way up
Run to away from
Eyes on the tarmac

Fetch a taxi fetch a bone hills of bones setting the scene scenery decrepit with turning their backs.  Fetch a taxi fetch a drawing knuckles with paper cuts in the hats without rabbits today tomorrow yesterday deleted with the next paragraph's toilet tissue.  Didn't do enough reps losing speed acceleration from fetching a taxi a bone a bicycle a bimonthly expedition away from providing the same old services just suppose the cycles never halt never break down even with all those stomach contents table of contents just suppose can't dissolve it away even this formic acid trip only shrinking losing speed losing categories squeezing in more categories smaller units and sub-units and sub-sub-units can't decide to go in or come out of the last dream nightmare neither they are all just chasing after people tall people dark people who never turn around even for a second just suppose just suppose never mind never turn around can't turn this thing around.  Fetch a taxi fetch a bone catch a plane catch a cold get over it to catch it again.

Quelk: Are we ever going to taxi toward the runway?  Where are we at in the order now?
Forlapse: #17, I think.
Twimglormo: 19 actually.
Quelk: Crap.
Forlapse: 19?  Did I nod off at some point?  Did anyone notice?
Quelk: I didn't notice.
Bukow: You looked like you might have slipped away there twice.
Twimglormo: Did anyone ask for your opinion?  This is a private conversation.  If we want to drag you into this we'll give the say so.
Bukow: Take it easy.  Just trying to be helpful.
Forlapse: They don't know what I look like when I come to sufficiently and sufficiently for me can take most of the day or half a week sometimes depending on how much I've been drinking.
Bukow: The three of you are recent acquaintances and haven't fulfilled the criteria for a private conversation.
Twimglormo: Someone is paying way too much attention to something that is not their business.  
Bukow: Business.  You keep changing the expectations trying to exclude me you've been working on your latest project of downsizing the carpool one less way of seeing the world at a time.  I get up 15 minutes earlier every morning so I can still catch up to those who brag about moving on so well with their gene pool expelling its noxious gases while I convince myself I'm getting used to its effects as my eyes open less and less getting up earlier and earlier into the past bulldozing into before needing a way to work the wrecking balls knock in walls of composure as better times crumble.
Forlapse: I should observe myself coming to in front of the mirror and see what I really look like.
Quelk: How will you tell especially during weeks when you've been drinking more than usual.
Bukow: When is there a usual?  When is there not a usual?  I think we all nod off between each other's lines.  Between applications between open tabs between thoughts between associations associations hooked along protocols of associations.  Nothing to make note of here.  Move along.  Nothing to make note of here.  Cloud shaped like a frozen ear frozen in a script adapted from a protocol of associations.  Tag you're it.  Tag I'm it.  Tag we're it.

Max Stoltenberg

Sunday, September 25, 2011


Stay with the shopping cart, stay with us
Don't get caught up, don't get lost
In the sea of cereal and juice
Stop shaking the cart, stop driving us nuts
Don't break the eggs or flatten the bread
In the forest of artificial flower arrangements
Space of a day a day of space
Sectioned into tiny eyes of broken glass
In the forest of artificial flower arrangements
They stand there they move only briefly
Those mouths their mouths
Someone's mouths
Has to belong to 
The voice a source of noise
Damned grating amusements

"What is that you're wearing?"
"Just threw it on."
"Some would say it certainly looks that way."
"And what would others say?"
"I can't speak for others."
"You only speak for some?"
"Yes, I guess I do.  In fact I've taken it upon myself."
"And how is that working out for you?"
"Don't very much like that question."
"Neither do I as a matter of fact."

Those mouths their mouths
Someone's mouths
Has to belong to 
The voice a source of noise
Damned grating amusements

"Like expecting a stranger to start a knock knock joke."
"That very thought entered my mind."
"Just now?  Remarkable."
"No, just the other day last week or last month actually."
"The vest I used to wear when I played in a tragedy with a woman written as a figure of it'll come to me in a minute.  It's funny or tragic how we think we can estimate how long it will take for us to recall something that wants to stay hidden or think we'll hold onto something or someone who we are forgetting as we speak about them."
"You were in a tragedy?  Was it a real relationship or a role you played in a real relationship or a staged relationship you gave your all to make real imagining it to be real with all of your creative imagination?  I couldn't imagine being able to do that or could I?"
"Relationships are a lot of work especially working relationships that turn into relationships then the work becomes more complicated and intensive.  Makes fleshy balloons of you and me and them it either inflates us or deflates us inflating and deflating makes little holes leaks leaking all those harmonies and looks that can never be recreated escaping with claims of holding onto them each word forming white subtitles over winter scenes."
"Is that something you just made up now on this spot or a line from one of the tragedies you got yourself into?"
"Fuck off."
"I thought I saw some larger flatscreens in the next aisle."

In the forest of artificial flower arrangements
Space of a day a day of space
Sectioned into tiny eyes of broken glass
In the forest of artificial flower arrangements

Temper temper easy with that punchbowl.  Awkward sentences forced out to keep back facial gestures that make no sense anymore.  Temper temper easy with that punchbowl.  What a character what characters stupendous stupidity put together for displays of affection withheld searching domains tags for vaginas with just the right pubic topiaries atop the entrance virtually remote enough she is remote enough what about what about these fingers interrupt those fingers interrupt the next letter for another search topiaries atop allergies and curtain calls.

In the forest of artificial flower arrangements
Space of a day a day of space
Sectioned into tiny eyes of broken glass
In the forest of artificial flower arrangements

- Max Stoltenberg

Saturday, September 24, 2011


Melted chocolate melted to the inside of tin foil silver diaper of the universe inserted into the mouth for consumption points sharp points pointed leaving the tiniest cuts on lips.  Cuts opening into spaces for pausing in pain continue over the broken wooden fence away from neighborhoods of strangers strange faces without eyes crowned only in brows furrowed with their melted chocolate melted to the inside of tin foil silver diaper of the universe inserted into the mouth for consumption points sharp points pointed leaving the tiniest cuts on lips.

Red lips red dots circle the sockets nights of bottles and glasses into can they be called conversations what can they be called calling for who who is calling not calling no one calling forgetting names names fading from lack of mention distanced by lack and floods and quakes quaking short legs folding waving goodbye.  Goodbye.

Thighs spreading between storm clouds closing around the Sun hidden until it is time to burn more holes in opportunities already filled by others charming with wrappings so shiny glittering around melted chocolate melted to the inside of tin foil silver diaper of the universe inserted into the mouth for consumption points sharp points pointed leaving the tiniest cuts on lips opening onto spaces too narrow for kissing too narrow for contemplating too narrow for the smell of lip balm rather wait for the sting to fade fading names fading from lack of mention distanced by lack and floods and quakes quaking short legs folding waving goodbye.  Goodbye.

Tin foil orb hiding between the impressions put there by all the movements between displacements and the thickening and softening and thickening of the melted chocolate inside this tin foil planet.  Cutting the rim of all the ears that once placed themselves to the surface for a listen once a listen.  Tin foil orb planet hiding between the impressions put there by all the movements between displacements and the thickening and softening and thickening of the melted chocolate inside this tin foil planet.  Earlier impressions only theorized about earlier impressions cut red lips pain cut rims of ears draped with hair tangled blown by winds between displacements from first impressions smiles swallowed by the carelessness lying at the bottom of the ocean fading into the deepest dark too dark for names fading names fading from lack of mention distanced by lack and floods and quakes quaking short legs folding waving goodbye.  Goodbye.

- Max Stoltenberg


Dented splintered scraped fractured menagerie of contact.  It's all sports to all looking and around it goes where it stops pretensions pretend not to know.  All knowing ignorance indifferent to needles injecting brokenness healed for more invasive language games.  It's all sports to all looking and around it goes where it stops pretensions pretend not to know.  

Farmer falling from the plane during a bathroom break what a breakthrough what a breakthrough effervescent with mountains down below coming up eventually no longer with food but with prisons and other plots to die in pieces unconnectable pieces.  Cloud highlights and plateau split ends endings split and divided irrevocably playing an endless concerto for strings with their two themes complementary for the downward spiral that always finds another helix underneath the bleachers where it's all sports to all looking and around it goes where it stops pretensions pretend not to know.  Fade and stain the aspens the flooring airplane toilet flushing as it continues above and away from the plummeting protagonist.  Heading for no footing in the desert escaping into the trapdoor ceiling glass room glass cell see through cells working together and set apart into producing more transparent information gathered by more clauses harvested in the next crop of electronic addresses.

Water and wear focus worn by sadness water damaged neurons transmitting messages interwoven with formulas repeat for the next hit another hit slapped with the latest penalty for not purchasing this or that.  This contradiction flicked off the monkey's stomach lands in the mouth of those in attendance passing by after repeating it repeats on stomachs passing by the cardboard under engines bleeding to death searching for transfusions in the 8th chapter of the book left in the back of the abandoned convertible.  A pair of hands a pair of eyes (correction: only one eye the other with a patch) examine the book to find the last chapters missing.  Half of Chapter 8 is left and only a page and a half of the 9th unconnectable pieces unconnectable irrefragable gaps grow between the walls of existence pressing against the alternating layers of void and matter outside and outside of that and outside of that.  

Little girl writes in her notebook sitting in her tiny plastic chair on the side patio.  She distracts herself from seeing another moving truck emptying the third or fourth house on her block.  Fingers move the pencil to spell "duck" the duck she has appointed to be excluded from the latest game.  It's all sports for all looking and around it goes where it stops pretensions pretend not to know.  Her appointments and exclusions keep her focused and distracted from the moving trucks lining up down the block as the roof of the latest emptied house is punctured and the emptied house is refilled with the fallen body of the plundered protagonist.  It's all sports for all looking and around it goes where it stops pretensions pretending not to know never stopping around it goes and around it goes watched by all looking into it all it's sports for all.

The pair of hands and pair of eyes (correction: only one eye the other with a patch) put the book back down in the back seat of the abandoned convertible.  The book falls through the gaps to rest on the anthill below where the movement of the ants never stops as it continues to flow pretensions pretending not to know how it goes how it goes filling in those gaps that sprout between the walls of existence pressing against the alternating layers of void and matter and matter and void outside and outside of that and outside of that and outside of that.

- Max Stoltenberg

Wednesday, September 21, 2011


Might be what makes might not be was what vainly to have been still trying to be the unmade undone which cannot hide under shrinking skirts disappearing up into the in between kneeling falling out into such a fall out.  Erasing in the midst of it the cranky eraser sticking at times this time as it skips along the asphalt up and down up and down until it comes to a useless rest useless rest.  Up now down later up later down now for the in between missing the dry erase mapping hitting the abreactions colliding with another miss taking another hit on the while away lines gone wringing out what's known what's left filling in the expressions of the same old role stapled to the ground sprinkled with ignored thirst.

Leaking in leaking out with reservations under the Sun behind the clouds clouding the path leading to cracks tarred over in distractions.  Run to run fro running past running into with breath all that breath dislodged from these walls returning less enthusiasm for eyes diverted where is all that breath kept outside teeth grinding under thoughts replaced by blank stares dislodging more air in bronchial rhythm conducted to the expiring waves of the dirge. 

Where did the words go?  Adhering to the urine stained shorts of the dying man walking not dying for too long a time for the up and up of pain coming back lower back coming back to his back as he came back to the tree tilted by the storm and its clouds pasted to his skull thinning to the pattern the routine in between the asteroid and the piece of shit.  Inside the homeless mind fathers wander along black and white streets to nowhere while outside children have given up the search.

Noting who stands in what box and what boxes hold what landmarks of patches of dirt, asphalt, and concrete.  Feet shuffle over them under them knees scraped and banged without reservations based on what was consented to with unvoiced reservations coming back to what boxes hold what dirt, asphalt, and concrete stippled with uneaten banana bread.  Run to and run fro running away has been leaking out of minds and their air conditioners streaming with condensation looking for base.

- Max Stoltenberg

Sunday, September 18, 2011


The clock needed to be reset.  Needed to stay in step with everything else until a part of it somewhere where their expectations someone's expectations would get rubbed the wrong way somewhat whatever the some of it was or would be.  Their expectations these expectations inflated arms hands fingers to reset the time before the instant glue of slathered and frozen palms could peel off the layer of stuckness that adhered to the body other bodies bodies of others.

Standing with the right thumb scratching the left palm unable to tear off imprints of images dim classrooms upside down young man young woman holding on to the floor the chair the desks voices interrupting memories what memories don't have any no matter what they compile in a pile it gets disposed and forgotten as they are resurrected when something else embarrassing happens these are the only resurrections for watering eyes and dousing the head in the depths treated with miraculous natural elements blurring vision that smoothes over others their silhouettes compiling in a pile until they unleash their sharp instruments for sculpting again what's left behind.

The model retreats and returns and retreats sculptors fill the marble scene a scene for chiseling out another story that goes something like this and it doesn't want to start not yet or maybe ever and yet it starts something like this anyway usually one way in many modes folding the same paper unfolding leaving creases returning to the edges of paper disappearing into spaces.

The young woman not so young call her Amanda when others call her Jennifer even though her name was changed to Lilith from another that lies in that frame that hangs on that wall somewhere in that house on the edge of that forest trimmed away that trimming away she has been trying to stay one step ahead of one foot two feet of hair ahead of nothing left to get back to.  On second thought, don't call her Amanda.  Whatever she leaves whatever she returns to should couldn't care less there is less of her to care more for them to be right less of her nonetheless.

Death where is death's long overdue pinprick?  Death is being administered in smaller dosages numbing and dulling with inadvertent returning to something familar or unfamiliar can't tell the difference anymore.  Typing faster with more what's the word with what with earnestness fuck those earnest payments in full full of it hole in the bucket keeps emptying nonetheless none the less less is this which is less than what it is which is this and will be less all things being more or less less typing at a steady pace pausing for the effects of life and its caffeinated deadlines procrastinating against oblivion.

Returning to pill calls with additional times and additional locations slinking of cables through the dirt of the desert tripping over stepping over getting it straight for lines for pill calls expectations that belong somewhere along these cables that get longer and thicker dividing up space for division for additional times and addition locations addition for subtraction adding memories that clench their teeth to return to the hole of zero with wide curving ellipse multiverse pre-empted by televisions inside televisions all the way back to the beginning of the program to the beginning of the seasion to the beginning of the signal returning to the reruns that return.

What's left is left behind and has left to return for what's left all these streets so rectangular and perpendicular boxing in these lives so circular stepping over cables curled up behind desks those classroom desks those voices echo in every cough every pill call on every street corner every corner of every room of every mind corners of circular rooms spinning in round minds rounded off to the nearest estimate of birth and death leaving returning leaving returning.

- Max Stoltenberg

Wednesday, September 14, 2011


After the promotion this promotion that went through through the proper channels extra channels that others cannot seem to find even when they think they have looked hard enough.  Beyond the nonsense is a dark black screen shut off and shut down system shut down here to tell them these things they don't seem to listen to never take these words or anyone's words that they think haven't a clue they don't take those words seriously not even close.  Too close for comfort when it they get too close it is time high time to stem the tide and gather all the stems that haven't completely shriveled up yet the not completely shriveled and make the way up the rope ladder up into the command center the big wooden box planks of wood the planks in these eyes for splintering the looks stuck in these eyes that keep flashing like the fireworks show many years ago went to before uncle was less disagreeable than mother the monster the seaweed all the seaweed that could not hide her tentacles wrapping around shoulders or waist makes no difference now to try to sort it all out like trying to fish out that fish the last bit of money out of the bowl with all that floating in it during that day or two of diarrhea or three make it four days of emptying this body and never the command center all the lights yelling out orders and commands rolling up the rope ladder and making sure it never falls down keep the sea monster out with all her algae that can't possibly hide those enormous bloody tentacles that wrap so tight and suck out so much amazing that even now up in the command center with its planks these eyes splintering out the after flashing of all the looks the looks and the teeth chattering with demeaning chatter wear the enamel off but the teeth remain the gums bulge and the teeth chatter demeaning chatter up in the box the wooden box up and away don't knock the rope ladder back down and let the seaweed wench and all her minions some call them coworkers what a misuse of indecent semantics anti-semantic it is won't be fooled up in the command center up in the tower wish it was bigger trying to watch these legs inside on the planks to not kick accidentally kick the rope ladder down no time for that no time for an accident didn't bring a change of clothes again and they have nothing here in this ill equipped station remote from the place found behind that building no one knows about no police there haven't been there recently they haven't won't mention where if they are checking these notes always checking with their trackers and keystrokes looking over the shoulders rope ladder ain't never coming down stay up here in the tower open no more for no one up in the tower not really enough room up here especially with all the sparking these thoughts those thoughts inside and out sparking away like those fireworks uncle was less disagreeable only smacked with one hard smack only once or maybe it was twice make it four not so less disagreeable but less disagreeable than the seaweed tentacled bitch that shouldn't exist anywhere on the land don't knock down the rope ladder or returning to the ocean where the sea mother from hell would turn the tide to steam and destroy everything yet another event for the books would disintegrate the rest of the books no more trips to the library asking people asking not asking demanding ordering with their sanctions to leave the library not there very long anyway any way at all out of this maybe not except for the way up into the command center the tower never coming down keeping these legs inside feet curled up toes curling into shriveling stems that used to stem the tide now they will stay up here under these feet to keep them from accidentally kicking down the rope ladder maybe better to burn the rope ladder flames are certainly more entertaining than sparks all the sparking of the thoughts inside outside the sparking thoughts of when uncle slapped the napkins out of the left hand only trying to wipe the blood from the nose bloody tentacles can't exist anywhere not safe on the land or in the ocean not safe burn the rope ladder and let the flames overwhelm the sparks the sparking thoughts up here in the tower burn the tower the whole tower overwhelmed.

- Max Stoltenberg

Monday, September 12, 2011


Now there is a point with its quill going right through the hardcover softcover flaccid cover shivering with being penetrated.  Slowly making for the ice maker in the garage what in the world is it doing in the garage?  Put there when the roof leaked no the roof never leaked it was instead what was instead following the second hand around its course its online course following the seconds with a spray can dusting the dust and to no avail.  When did that turkey maneuver the conversation toward beds and steamrollers?  Crouched in the shingles with the shingles singing a tuneless unkempt mop of a ditty:

They played organs on their last legs
Last legs for playing
and being played
Lift up a flap and flap it over
Mouths that have dispensed with
nothing connoting a point
on their last legs
no last legs
no first legs
no middle legs
between are the flaps
lift a flap and flap it over
mouths that have dispensed with
nothing connoting a point
on their last legs

They stared at each other in front of the television show on the computer on the desk on the patio on something that made them especially distracted and even more contentious than usual nothing usual or even about as far as the turkey was concerned.  The man the woman the man the woman asked implored deplored the man the woman to stop waving the turkey breast the turkey over the globe the demanding globe or the turkey's reprimand the breast's reprimand. 

What channel was this?

Switch switch.

They sat still in their still life as commercials moved over them.

What channel was this?

Leave it.  The turkey breast the turkey the breast that breast thumb muscle petrified.  Dropping popcorn on the couch digging fingers in between cushions stilling the still life into the gaze at the show of the show at at of the show of the show the gaze of the show.

- Max Stoltenberg

Saturday, September 10, 2011


It's hypocrisy it's an hypocrisy for them in their cars in their clothes in their skin.  No such thing no such chance in the world their world as they thought about it forgot about it plodding along in it the raw polish the delible paint and its tone striking that chord to obey the present in all its past layered with all these strange shaped bugs and their parts separated and smashed against the windshields in their cars in their clothes in their skins where it's hypocrisy an hypocrisy.

Looking looking away tuning in tuning out in and out depositing what affect the affected overtures and notes and tunes tuning in tuning out in and out depositing what affect the affected overtures and notes and tunes noting well not so well and the unwell out of holes and into holes hiding and issuing onto the back a back covering the absence of music silent atonality skinning alive participants in the stripping away of conversation as words accumulate and disappear into orifices regorging among the purges and the whispers dark clumsiness tangled cues and poked vision taken aback.

Getting up and out to use the bathroom bumping the right kneecap the under part of the knee cap on a corner of the corner table where the magician's hat sits full of soil on a plastic plate son of a bitch variations on grammar's spray into the black flashing with bulbs of exclamation.  Feeling for the magician's brim checking for its upset and finding it not there displaced crawling on the floor flattening a cheek against the side of the bed approaching the corner as it sharpens into arousal deflected variations on deflections.  No dirt hands sliding along carpet soaking up sweat and unintended maneuvers. 

Standing on top of the building with her dog watching the dark purple sky forming cracks of red and orange both fists aglow with their own tight bristles of hues dipped in chapped lips.  Enough stories up choked up fed up diving across it to make the sash.  Just another segment of the rollercoaster front car sticking toes in the sprockets of celluloid this film another sequel inflicting its variations those fucking variations. 

"Up here high enough as high as it will get those levels those stories plenty of stories to go around fall down through descending into some kind of bypass bypassing something passed by.  Stuck stuck stuck on a word a word a clump of words open these fists at those fists opening to let fall as they slide and drop off of the what exactly is this supposed to be is this supposed to be?  Questions are sprung over the edge of this strangled majestic summit for defacing only facing the sky as it ignites another realm along its reflections igniting with fueled illusions flammable and ovulating with reproducible meaning.  Should have brought up that poem or essay was it one of those things that used to be written once when there was or wasn't the things that have miscarried.  Will it be a scream will it be the usual speaking under the breath so no one continues to continue on paying no mind no minds paying anything to continue on instead of that poem was it an essay was it one of those things that have miscarried.  Drop it spit it out drag teeth along the tongue seed for discharging this existence one burst at a time caught on the bottom of teeth grinding to a stilted manner of being used to it being used for being used.  How does it start?  How does it end?  How does it go?  How does it stop?  How does it move impatiently and sluggishly unending in its duration without duration just at the least expected recognizable patch of carpet bristles of hairs of surrounding caverns invaded welcoming incomprehensible words assembled into narration so hesitant to find here this here lost again embedded in between waves of neurotic curves disguised as something else other than what it ends up not bringing into focus among the exhibits.  Exhibits was part of it

Exhibits along the way
For them they posed
Ventures in liquid
in liquid

Exhibiting was what it was

Exhibiting tubs of no

No not starting there not here

Veils exhibiting stares
Covering messages unsent
Building up expression
An eyelid behind a painting
Of solitary crowds

Or maybe the solitary in crowd

Then that might make it in as inhibit or inhibiting.

Inhibiting it in bit by bit

This is it

Inhibiting it in bit by bit
Speaking at length
No amount of content
Content or discontent
Does not matter

Could be might be what no longer could be could be longer than it needed to be being of sound mind unsound mind mind of too much sound no sound at all to cross it all out crossing to reach for the sash no more comments regarding someone that someone else who misinterpreted so much as if trying to make someone else out of this here than no more comments regarding someone else reminding not minding anymore no more no more comments regarding that uncertain someone else misinterpreting so much left it at or for a time don't really know can't get a handle on it while considering reaching for across for that sash no sound at all not even imagining imagining no more no more comments there it has to be here not there for someone else caring for no one else not here nor there nowhere no name not even nothing uneven leaning towards the sash no more comments for that certain uncertain indecisive misinterpreting someone someone else has someone else in their mind never mind no matter not to leave it at or better this than no more comments regarding that certain uncertain someone else mistinterpreting most things about someone else reminding of someone else minding someone else's matters not a certain someone's just an uncertain someone's inhibiting it in bit by bit."

- Max Stoltenberg

Wednesday, September 7, 2011


Today the day or yesterday the day the night tomorrow's moving boxes unfolded in the corner in the middle of the floor underneath the floor bulging with sums accumulations purged of accomplishments or were they guess not not getting it not yet not yet maps the streets and corners and pavements and yards not yet fashions the yards the yardsticks into other streets other corners and yet another.  Back it up rolling over as the not yet and yet how pulling out all the stops and rights of way wayward and onward and wayward antics of the not yet and yet how pulling out all the stops and rights of way and pulling muscles like the one or a few muscles right down by the lower part near the crack in this body crack in this town that prison this prison office inside job out with it.  Back it up into the street the middle of the room back up the room and all the nuisances out in the wild within the architecture as it shuffles the nuisances around stirring up the underbelly with its underbelly with its overbite another survey checking out the objects stirred around the basin.

Three people not anymore one dead make it two people.  Only one person left to push back on all that pushes them about.  Only one person not yet still two they chat they make a go of it not yet yet again and yet they do.

Najla: Almost full mostly full time to empty it out.
Trentonson: The bag is telling time.
Najla: What did you say?
Trentonson: The bag not you is telling the time by how full or almost full mostly full it is. 
Najla: I'm just asking you to repeat yourself.
Trentonson: I seem to have a choice to repeat myself or not.
Najla: The colors fade in the laundry along with the injoke of rolling in the nay.
Trentonson: I beg to differ.  Which container are we referring to?
Najla: Hold on a minute while I inquire in the back or was it the front?
Trentonson: If you're referring to the front the cat is deaf and if you're referring to the back that would be the third person who is dead and not anymore.
Najla: I thought they were in the front.
Trentonson: My mistake.  I'm looking forward to the kids getting another load next week.
Najla: Another what load next week?
Trentonson: Halloween.
Najla: Not yet.  Not until next year.
Trentonson: Damn.  Must've just missed it. 
Najla: You did.  It was just last week.
Trentonson: Crapping coyotes what an absurd fiasco.  Can't blink for a second.
Najla: Like when you wouldn't come outside to see the house fire down the block.
Trentonson: From the falling XKQW satellite?
Najla: Actually that was more than a block away maybe three.
Trentonson: There you go bringing another third thing into it again.  I can't make up my mind whether it brings me down when others bring things up or if others are trying to bring me up by putting everything down?
Najla: If we empty the back then we'll need to empty the front then the garage will be full and we can't empty that until they empty the alley.
Trentonson: Maybe we'd be better off if we dumped ourselves out of town.
Najla: I thought we already did that to get here.

Where does it all fit into the sound forming or the one that swept right through ribs got to try those out when yet another not yet affords samples clicked on and pinched with a dash of let's get going.  Behind the books was a trapped bird that didn't show at least not yet how hard it was breathing a rigid sample clicked on by other objects.  One of its shits had hit upon a sheet of homework a paper backing it up from its backpack with its math of counting children counting children.

They gave them life they gave them only a little over a year this time what's the point?  They gave them life piled upon life and walking in line parallel to each other life next to life counting children counting children.  They gave them life they gave them only a little over a year to back it up all out the back and jump into this mapped out not yet still mapping let's get going stand still and behave.  They gave them life stacked upon life shuffling in line parallel to each other life next to life counting children counting children.

Holding the math the figures the objects children counting children one at a time take a turn tilting the paper some of the shit is running off as most of it motionless marking out the figures the counting children counting children one at a time take a turn tilting the paper some of the shit is running off as most of it motionless marking out the figures not yet no more marking out more with its running off not helping running off as it backs up all out the back jump into it drop into it all out the back underbelly rolling over upon underbelly.

Sunday, September 4, 2011


All right all right hold on stop repeating running through this familiar encounter running through us thus jumbling it all together all right all right hold stop where was the point of entry exit exiting for just a short walk that might extend as far as that this wall.  Fill in fill something in a picture of something towards some idea of something someone some less of some more of what passes for that which passes gases out of asses more chronicles from the bottom closed and closing slowly ever so less than poetically poetry has no time for this shit or maybe it does when is not known as the pieces missing whole sections chunks of passages links between subsections and subparagraphs fine print all caps to shout at the sky the blue film drawn over caged drawings.

Drawer #1: Was that water?
Drawer #2: It doesn't last long or too long.
Drawer #1: Where is it coming from?
Drawer #2: Leaking or pooling.
Drawer #1: Is it coming from outside or inside?
Drawer #2: Dehydrated or inundated.
Drawer #1: Precipitated or fluoridated.
Drawer #2: That's more like it.
Drawer #1: More like what?
Drawer #2: Stock answers.
Drawer #1: More interested in the questions.
Drawer #2: More interest accrues for those who have invested in the stock answers.
Drawer #1: And who are those?
Drawer #2: Something to do with an arrangement an arrangement of furniture and spaces and the nature of disagreement and the nature of interest and the naturalness of fascination with interesting things gathered and carried around in sacks of personal interest and the nature of the somehow when one sack was let go and what spilled out was hosed away by forgetfulness when between installments and updates of protocol brief periods of flushing of more replacements while transitions from one protocol to the next as names of those who used to be around and use the furniture drift off like smoke making their getaway while they can before the next arrangement some smoke some line not so thickly pressed disappearing and reappearing in a mind that is sometimes working and sometimes not working on what is the world and what is the room and what is the room and what is the world and what is the wall as far as the wall.
Drawer #1: And how long has this been going on?
Drawer #2: Since the loop was started to make more room for the traffic to orbit around the enclosed area so it can be expanded into more enclosed areas.
Drawer #1: And that's the plan?
Drawer #2: So to speak.  Grab that book over there.
Drawer #1: Over where?
Drawer #2: Over there.
Drawer #1: This one?
Drawer #2: No, the other one.
Drawer #1: This?
Drawer #2: No, that.  The bigger one next to the ashtray.  Yes, that.  Turn to, think it's page 1214.  Wait, actually, it's page 1412 or 1421.  Try both and see which one it is.
Drawer #1: Page 1421 says, "Typically word has it beginning with the nature of those who work themselves into a corner and are often identified as being perfect for their positions for corners and niches digging ditches digging graves for those like them the less fortunate like them more fortunate than them like them unlike them as word would typically have it beginning with the nature of those previously mentioned those memorialized on tracking lists until they are thrown into the box in the corner for the to be shred."  Who the hell writes like this?
Drawer #2: Who the hell knows?  Couldn't find where the author is on the front at the back or maybe it's all over by matter of implication.
Drawer #1: By matter of implication? What does that mean?
Drawer #2: Don't know.  Just made that up kind of like most of what's in there.  Anyway, that was the wrong page.  Then, it has to be page 1412.
Drawer #1: Should have said so earlier and save a lot of grief.
Drawer #2: Grief can never be saved only buried. 
Drawer #1: Page 1412, "The passenger buckles down for the drive as the driver tests the vehicle's adherence to the wheel that turns with the loop testing how it hugs the road hugs its curves testing the shape the room the room for them while it is new while there is still room before the testing spreads to others alleviating traffic elsewhere and filling the space on the loop.  Along the way, the passenger might remind the driver of where their exit is to re-enter the enclosed space of their town the town expanding the plan."  See, it's all about the plan.
Drawer #2: Very perceptive.  Read on.
Drawer #1: "The passenger might also remind the driver to turn on the radio where (see page 1421) what is what word will typically refer to as the nature beginning with what starts as shortcuts end up being dead ends and so forth as far as routes go or don't go or end up being end up dead ends."  Which begs the question depending on whether it's worth asking in the scheme of things and stock answers hovering about.
Drawer #1: Take a whack at it.
Drawer #2: Would it fall too shy of the objective to consider how this evokes the sense of confusion when entering another room with others and not knowing who the conversation is regarding?

One prompted the other to keep reading on the matter.  And the other prompted the one before to continue prompting the reminders the landmarks the same stains on the walls and the conspicuous efforts to remove them never removing them just ignoring them pretending they weren't there pretending where they weren't was that which they could be reminded of and the result of driving with the top down and feeling the air the hot air returning to the spaces and passages of recirculating air.  One prompted the other to keep reading on the matter.

- Max Stoltenberg

Friday, September 2, 2011


Dark black dog lying down in the dark the black dark with a dark black dog lying down somewhere very old and very dark black dog resting somewhere on the bottom of the darkness the black darkness very old and very tired and very weak and very interrupted with legs dark black legs shaking and twitching inside some dark dream inside this dog's dark black head this dog dreaming and running from something could that be it could that be what is happening to this dog this dark black dog's body inside it's dark black head inside on the bottom of this darkness somewhere on the bottom.

Listening for a sneeze a rustling noise from the black dog in the darkness where sound is absent smothered somewhere under thick blankets of this darkness black darkness seeping through the folds the starless folds bathed in the atramentarious.  No sound not a sound and yet life the dog's life places itself along the surface of the unnoticed.  Will this will will go unnoticed until it is noticed by feet that trip over and stumble in the dark the black dark at the bottom of this pit of the nightfallen pausing in muffled breathing breaths narrowed shallow below capacity capacity that floats up to the surface or gets tangled in the algae of thoughts in a corner dark corner menaced by thickened walls of the labyrinth sinking to the bottom the deep blackened bottom to press down on the dark dog's weakened lungs pressing out what life stays up in canine dreams and scenes where what light timidly suggests the possibility of a mediation to enter is snuffed out to darken the last gap the last void of darkness fit to be resigned to as two steps attempt to become re-acquainted with each other trying not to bother to startle the dark black dog aging even more as it chases and gets chased in its dream which one is it which one?

- Max Stoltenberg