Sunday, July 22, 2012

DOWN THE AISLE

Where to stand so they'll find the clothes not in clothes or the clothing over by the can't make up and of course not in make up or the cosmetics wish they had a making up place for making up fat chance for that and certainly not in the plus sizes or maybe that is where these clothes should go where they should could go with those clothes over there or around the other side if there were more on the other side the other side of this side nothing what are they hanging there stuffed in there neatly different than was expected than what was expected what was expected?  That was the what color was it red or yellow yellow think it was to note make a note of make up not over there making this up that's it making it up not with anyone just for reasons to be kept on this side not the other side which side are they on not here yet here yet they side with which side is this on that side that on this side siding used to like to walk around just outside just past that duct and smell the drying clothes inside the warmth and the smoke off the cigar that mouth that mouth tightening just outside along that siding a pale green just outside as the just inside tightening that mouth tightening smoke thickening fading.


Fading away shelved in the ground in a wall shelves of storage containers blue lids black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere stiff neck wants to find where the moon would it be out outside just outside stiff neck rubbing with dirty hands black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere somewhere misty with water sprinklers the fountain's still broken no one coming to fix it no one coming when will they where to stand so they'll find the clothes not clean enough bath and body works itself out in the end fading away shelved in the ground in a wall shelves of storage containers blue lids black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere just a balloon that says can't see what it says as it's turning around turning away one letter at a time can't see anything beyond the horizon of that big balloon far up there beyond its horizon.


Decoding debugging trying not to be a bother to anyone noticing these clothes standing where to stand so they will not be bothered decoding the coordinates where to stand a decoder with the little red window had that until the window fell out and landed in the water his big voice booming on the dock why couldn't you listen and be more careful? As careful as when one of the only remaining undeleted movements whether bowel or symphony (the juridical is reserved for hardcovers and flaccid minds) the backroom was abandoned to its staff microwave choking on another neglected meal the victim of an extra errant zero overcooking it into the unrecognizable where food, plastic, and cardboard are blobbed into the monstrous visual noise of one unitive integral holistic eclectic mess.  Denial is surpassed by absence.  Getting the hell out of places never deprived one of suffering.  It seemed to follow along somewhere in the baggage even when it was unpacked and dissolved it would linger as yet another layer of life the gummy adhesive of relation connection some contact yet to fade never quite fading away.


Decoding debugging turning pages to where among the titles and subtitles texts and subtexts the top of one led to the bottom of another:


The mail that had arrived on that day had arrived on that day later than on the day before that and on that day before that, it had arrived later than on the day before that and on that day before the day before that it had arrived later than on the day before that that he started to become aware of a pattern in how his name appeared on every piece of mail that had arrived on that day had arrived later on that day than on the day before that and on that day before that, it had arrived later than on the day before that and on that day before the day before that it had arrived later than on the day before that that he started to become aware of a pattern in how his name appeared on every piece of mail that had arrived on that day had arrived later on that day than on the day before that and with one less letter in his last name than on the day before that had on that day had one less letter in his last name than on the day before that and on that day that was the day before the day before that had had one less letter in his last name than on the day before that.  The woman who flossed her teeth on the bus opposite him the following morning gaped at him as she tugged the string back and forth between two lower teeth all the while he firmly pressed an index finger to his lips holding in all the things he felt no longer needed to be said.  The woman who flossed her teeth on the bus opposite him gaped at him as if witnessing unkempt digits grip a substantial dried chunk out of his nostril the day before the morning that followed had brought little disgust in comparison.  As the woman tugged the string back and forth between two lower teeth next to the two lower teeth that had surrendered a tiny yellow fragment of scrambled egg all the while he firmly pressed an index finger to his lips holding in all the things he felt no longer needed to be said all the while tightening on the inside just inside.


Fading away shelved in the ground in a wall shelves of storage containers blue lids black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere stiff neck wants to find where the moon would it be out outside just outside stiff neck rubbing with dirty hands black nails no moon in the sky under the rafters up high somewhere somewhere misty with water sprinklers the fountain's still broken no one coming to fix it no one coming while still thinking of water everywhere water bodies cleaner than these clothes not in the clothes or clothing where to stand where they'll notice the clothes need to be clean enough water still thinking of water everywhere there is water it is never still always rippling and tides of churning destructive waves booming with the voice so careful now so unheard now index finger firmly pressed to lips holding in all the things that no longer needed to be said.




- Max Stoltenberg



Thursday, July 12, 2012

TAPER

Most of them died the thoughts most of them had died. There was no use in going over their manner or fashion of death. Only very slight variations characterized each and every snuffing out of flashes in the brain-pan. Away from what was supposed to be right next to it have it within by the undigested lettuce leafs differ seen through remaining thoughts thinner than that much thinner. 


They were practicing their synchronized yawning all the while rubbing their eyes and hardly lifting their asses out of somebody’s talk-show that constantly reared its ugly made over painted over talking heads over and over talking around and under each other transferring from line to line knocking over hydrant after hydrant as they reared back to make room for yet another hydrant to pop up in its lopped off place from place to place once quiet places what had silence been like only what it had been like between them. Someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking on it. They were leaning on it. 


She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. Took what she heard took what she got and broke a nail on her right hand trying to pull out a staple. The only response that emerged resulted in unsuccessfully holding back her own isolated laughter at her own sarcasm as a flake of snot hit and stuck to the artificial plant that she thought might have been out of range. Another water balloon inside her myelin hairnet revealed scribbling in its condensation to the effect of being deranged having to do with no longer possessing a talent for extrapolating distances. Distant so distant but nonetheless it was someone. Someone someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking on it. 


Far off it seemed until it pressed deeper between skin and fingernail like slivers of moonlight reflecting off a butcher knife until it pressed deeper between skin and fingernail like slivers of moonlight reflecting off a butcher knife or slivers of moonlight reflecting off a butcher’s 4 by 4 front windshield reflecting the moonlight far off it seemed until it pressed deeper between skin and fingernail like silvers of neon light under obscured moonlight reflecting off a butcher’s baldness dripping with sweat or what looked like it having dripped from the steamy awning up above perspiring with hot rain until it pressed deep far from it distant so distant it was someone. Someone kept clicking. Someone kept clicking on it. They were leaning on it. 


“Drowned.” 
“Who?” 
“Her.” 
“Her who?” 
“You drowned her out with your noise.” 
“Just tore off one sheet from my pad.” 
“And you just tore off one good layer from your cuticle.”
“You weren’t supposed to notice that.” 
“I was saying.” 
“Is it time for lunch?” 
“Not yet.” 
“Then why did we come in?” 
“That’s the real reason we come in.” 
“No, I mean in this room.” 
“I was saying.” 
“Could you start over?” 
“None of us can really start over.” 
“I call that waking up.” 
“I call it something else.” 
“You want me to start all the way at the beginning?” 
“We’re sorry to make you do that.” 
“You might be, but I’m not.” 
“All right, he’s not, but I am.” 
“Once they got to the part of the project where you put on the what do you call them? Damn, I hate when I do that. They reached that part you know where they have to put on the what you do you call them?” 
“I don’t know. You haven’t reached that part yet.” 
“Brakes. They put on the brakes.” 
“What the hell do you think I’ve been talking about all this time?” 
“Nesting grounds.” 
“What?” 
“Is it time for lunch?” 
“Not yet.” 
“Is it time for breakfast?” 


She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. She stirred it again and put it in again and somehow couldn’t get rid of the cold. Took what she heard took what she got and broke a nail on her right hand trying to pull out a staple. The only response that emerged resulted in unsuccessfully holding back her own isolated laughter at her own sarcasm as a flake of snot hit and stuck to the artificial plant that she thought might have been out of range. Another water balloon inside her myelin hairnet revealed scribbling in its condensation to the effect of being deranged having to do with no longer possessing a talent for extrapolating distances. 


“Not yet.” 
“When will it be time for lunch?” 
“You mean breakfast.” 
“Yes, breakfast. When will it be time for breakfast?” 
“Never mind that. You really meant dinner.” 
“I did?” 
“You were inquiring about dinner.” 
“Yeah, when is that?” 
“Soon after you return.” 
“You make it sound like we never leave.” 
“Sure seems that way.” 
“Hinges.” 
“What about hinges?” 
“That’s what they were putting on so they could attach the doors.” 
“Some have nerves of steel.” 
“And some just have a lot of nerve.” 
“And that’s when they realized that they had that whole side of it reversed. So they had to take all the screws on that side out.” 
“What are you wearing?” 
“It’s a button-down shirt, I think.” 
“I can see that. Is it a new type of deodorant?” 
“It’s definitely not me.” 
“Haven’t showered?” 
“Well, that, too, but I’m just past my expiration date.” 


She tried 
She tried to turn pages 
To turn pages 
With her tongue 
Never fading 
Never forming 
Until until 
Eaten away unnoticed 
Grabbing for the bottle 
Of white chalkiness 
Turning on noticing 


No rain to be right as in the backyard where there was that table that picnic table backyard table sat with daddy to play chess took my bishop took his queen he knocked the pieces over got up and walked away far off until dispossessed of the talent what talent for distances.


No rain to be right as.


Turning on noticing
Noticing what has been lost 
Beneath the lawn 
That has died again 
Never fading 
Never forming 
Until until 
Eaten away unnoticed 
Grabbing for the bottle 
Of white chalkiness 
Noticing what has been lost 
Beneath the lawn 
That has died again 
Never fading 
Never forming 


“A desk. I’ve been talking about a flipping desk that they had half a side reversed with all the screws that they had to re-screw to redo the reversed side back the other way to match the unreversed side the right way.” 
“That sounds screwed up.” 
“So where do you get it was about driving in all that?” 
“I didn’t.” 
“Maybe I mentioned something like they were driving screws into it even though they got half of it reversed.” 
“No. You didn’t mention driving.” 
“Then what’s all that about putting on the brakes?” 
“Oh. I thought you made some side comments about one of them having relationship issues.” 
“I didn’t make any side comments. You were probably confused by side comments outside what I was saying and in this room.” 
You never told me what deodorant it is.
Nothing new under the arms.
“Why don’t you start at the beginning?” 
“Or just get a bag of donettes out of the snack machine.”
“Don’t. You’ll make her go into another self-deprecating rant.” 
“I’ll start at the beginning. It starts with someone asking me a question. You know or maybe you don’t. Me. In this room. And then that’s as far as it gets I get because it’s like questions are asked not to get to me but to get to you and the clever or not so clever turning it around or away and you want to talk about driving or maybe I want to talk about driving and how it’s always me seeing you in your cars and you’ll only want to give me some sign of something and all it ends up being is you giving me some sign that you want to get ahead of me so you can make your turn and be on your way away and far off while I sit here asking myself questions answering myself or not answering myself not giving a shit about if it has a point or not.” 
“What is the point?” 
“To be prepared I think.” 
“That's what they keep telling us.
That's what they tell each other about their talents.
“Remotely care, but not very reliable when it comes to distance.


Most of them died the thoughts most of them had died. There was no use in going over their manner or fashion of death. Only very slight variations characterized each and every snuffing out of flashes in the brain-pan. Away from what was supposed to be right next to it have it within by the undigested lettuce leafs differ seen through remaining thoughts thinner than that much thinner.




- Max Stoltenberg

Wednesday, July 4, 2012

TONGUE BRUSH

Remote helplessness pressed its predictability into the little bag of soy sauce.  Into it again has it gone off and done it now or sooner or later for now for once the noggin with the sunglasses and the hair that ignores questions with its body its form relating to no one's expense but them scratching and itching and stopping what they're doing looking down at their legs for that bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things.  


Platform


Going going now going to stay here and keep them off going to just be going to be going going off and on to be going off to stay here and keep them off of them and on to some other keeping of somehow for who is it now going on about it not being or going far enough need to get up and find it just be going to be going off and find it just be going just follow the glints and the winks ignore the smirks can't ignore the smirks just follow just going to be going off and on to be going off to stay here and keep them off and keep your hands up they might not say anything keep them off going off the glints can't ignore the going off and on to be going off as long as it can as long as they might not say anything can't ignore the on to be going off going to stay here and keep them off.


Plateau


Plateau not platform.  It has been a plateau made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the plateau keeping the plateau not the platform not the plateau not the platform it has been a plateau made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the plateau keeping the plateau not the platform not the plateau not the platform it has been a plateau made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the plateau keeping the hands up keeping them off and not saying anything as long as it can as long as they are not saying anything won't let the muscles these legs where the bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things keeping them off and not saying anything as long as it can as long as they are not saying anything won't let the muscles these legs where the bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them push on them keeping them off not saying anything as long as it can as long as they are not saying anything children stay inside stay outside out of reach keeping them not saying anything as long as they can keep can't ignore the words come 


later


earlier the processor has been wound tighter and fitter for the track between the tracks curving between the mountains and their propellers spinning and twisting things heart missed a beat or was it more more these days these days what are these days? along the tracks those days along the tracks rocks on either side down below get there quicker than a sharp turn along the tracks those days fitter for the track between the tracks curving and straightening and speeding and hurtling to a chair to a desk to buttons pushed up from the platform the plateau has been a plateau a platform made of nails all pushed up all held up by hands underneath underneath the weight of the platform the plateau.


"Is yours stuck as well?"


"No, I think it's only you."


"It's just me?"


"What else is new?"


"Someone died just on the other side of this wall," she said as she indicated with a nod of her head towards the wall with a silverfish on it just above the carpet where some paper dots had fallen from the latest sheets on pathogens and their reach.


"What else is new?"


"Did you hear what I said?"


"I think you've beaten this horse to death."


"Their skull was caved in."


"What?"


"We're out of ice."


"Tell me something I don't know."


She kept trying to forward the attachment but the system was stuck.  Ignoring him and his comments she picked up the book and examined the binding that looked more eaten away.  She felt a pulling and looked under her desk.  Nothing.  Still swiping her skirt her knees and her shins with her hand as a precautionary tale bringing it up and holding carrying holding her hand over her frozen keyboard looking at her palm and the discolored skin the features fewer patches of softness.  


Sometimes.


Remote helplessness pressed its predictability into the little bag of soy sauce.  Into it again has it gone off and done it now or sooner or later for now for once the noggin with the sunglasses and the hair that ignores questions with its body its form relating to no one's expense but them scratching and itching and stopping what they're doing looking down at their legs for that bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things.


Sometimes.


Sometimes a bag of soy sauce is all they had.  Going out of town more often to find a supermarket that hadn't gone off and done it now or sooner or later for now for once the noggin with the sunglasses and the hair that ignores questions with its body its form relating to no one's expense but them scratching and itching and stopping what they're doing looking down at their legs for that bug tangling around in the hairs pull on them and feel the glass shake with a resounding iron "no" it has got such a handle on things.


Sometimes you have to.


She felt a pulling and tried not to look under her desk.  Trying to ignore the pulling the hiding under the desk.


Sometimes you have to reach.


Can't ignore the pulling the pushing the pushing up of the hands underneath underneath the weight of the platform the plateau under the weight of all that dirt.


"Sometimes you have to reach beyond yourself."


"Reaching beyond myself is like reaching for the single-ply toilet paper you keep reaching you keep pulling more and more."


She felt a pulling and tried not to look under her desk.  Trying to ignore the pulling the hiding under the desk.  Can't ignore the pulling the pushing the pushing up of the hands underneath underneath the weight of the platform the plateau under the weight of all that dirt in his tiny little wooden box more eaten away the pulling the pushing she felt can't ignore still swiping her skirt her knees and her shins with her hand as a precautionary tale bringing it up and holding carrying getting bigger too big to carry to hold holding her hand over her frozen keyboard looking at her palm and the discolored skin the features fewer patches of softness.


More worn away more eaten away the hardening frame around the deteriorating picture he held while he sat on a rock looking at the deteriorating picture of the man looking down at the rows of houses and the moving trucks wondering when they would notice where he had been looking at the front door and waiting for them to emerge into the picture the deteriorating picture he held while he sat on a rock looking at the deteriorating picture of the man looking down at the rows of houses and the moving trucks wondering when they would notice where he had been looking at the next front door waiting for them to emerge into the picture the deteriorating picture more worn away more eaten away.




- Max Stoltenberg