POOR TRANSITIONS

It was in the more arid places that the zits of the world put more distance between their conversations and each other. Ejaculations ceased to issue from their heads and they resigned their form and content to distorting faces and expressions.  Make that contorting feces and regressions make that what you will if that is what you think it comes down to or what it comes down to being the parts the units the components the factors when you used to spend all that time looking in drawers or between things when you ran out of paper walking on muddy road no rain but a leak from somewhere had wandered off in search of the source all that time all that profusion of feeling responsible for things lost through the ticking away of eons where behind another layer of stars and their wardrobes light-years on the same planet away from the more the more what was it it was in the more arid places that the zits of the world put more distance between their conversations and each other. Ejaculations ceased to issue from their heads and they resigned their form and content to distorting faces and expressions.  Make that contorting feces and regressions make that what you will if that is what you think it comes down to or what it comes down to being the parts the units the components the factors when you used to spend all that time looking in drawers or between things when you ran out of paper walking on muddy road no rain but a leak from somewhere had wandered off in search of the source all that wasted giving up sick and tired worn out and wasting acceptance and surrender on searching for the source.

Shooting stars shooting pain
through lips that have said yes
what were what were we thinking
if it can be called
if it can be called 
that

Shooting stars was it
up north or up south
what direction did the barrels go
the targets couldn't disappear
into the crowd
threshed into the wasteland
of hands
clawing at keyboards in the desert 
nails lifted backwards
by hammers of voyeurs
minds that curve back into themselves
splintered handles
forgetting a grip
nails lifted backwards to scrape out the turds of muddy road no rain but a leak from somewhere had wandered off in search of the source all that wasted giving up sick and tired worn out and wasting acceptance and surrender on searching for the source.

the source that makes roads muddy

"Were you able to sleep?"
"Of course not."
"I'm not saying anything."
"You just did."
"After this I mean after I stop saying anything right now nothing more just wait nothing more starting right now and this right now means it."
"Nothing more.  You really are not saying anything.  And unfortunately for you that's saying something.  And now you're going to just stand there and be quiet by imagining you are a bag with holes emptying out into the space that shrinks and grows and shrinks again and grows again until you realize you already are a bag with holes and that's when you look down at the backs of your hands and turn them over and try to look at the wall then you remember you're out in the open under the dusty clouds impaled by hills of remains and that's the point at which you pick up where you left off not saying anything."
"And I was trying to avoid a rant with you being irritable."
"I didn't think I was irritable but now that you bring it up-"
"You were snoring."
"I what?"
"You were snoring.  You must have slept some even if only briefly."
"I guess it's possible.  Did I do anything else?"
"The usual announcements."
"And?"
"And what?"
"And anything else besides the usual announcements?"
"There might have been."
"There might have been?  There either was or there wasn't."
"Well, I didn't say there definitely wasn't."
"That's true.  It's just that thing."
"What thing?"
"This thing of sometimes I wonder if I'm talking to someone else or myself."
"Oh crap, here you go again making it about you.  What am I? Half of this thing this someone else thing?  If if it manages to make it I don't it doesn't sound like I'm this someone else or even at 50%."
"We were never good at numbers."
"Leave me out of your making it all about you and speak for yourself."
"Maybe it is better before I say anything else for me to just walk away and forget what it was I was going to say."
"You make it sound as if the future of dialogue hinges on you staying or leaving."
"Where could I go?"
"There was a time when we would actually surprise the other with something we said wasn't there?"
"There might have been."
"There might have been?  There either was or there wasn't."
"Well, I didn't say there definitely wasn't."
"That's true.  It's just that thing."
"What thing?"
"This thing of sometimes I wonder if I'm talking to someone else or myself."
"Oh crap, here you go again making it about you.  What am I? Half of this thing this someone else thing?  If if it manages to make it I don't it doesn't sound like I'm this someone else or even at 50%."
"We were never good at numbers."
"Leave me out of your making it all about you and speak for yourself."
"Maybe it is better before I say anything else for me to just walk away and forget what it was I was going to say."
"You make it sound as if the future of dialogue hinges on you staying or leaving."
"Where could I go?"
"You were mumbling."
"Where could I go?  Is that better?  Must have been my post-nasal drainage."
"Not just now.  You asked me if there was anything else besides the snoring."
"And the usual announcements."
"You were mumbling something about finding places underground places."
"I don't know if they were underground or not.  All I do know is that when I discovered them I was overcome with being inspired to tell the others tell her and it was within moments that it was replaced by being angry and not just angry about the places turning out to be a dream shoved up the tightest ass of the briefest nodding off or that there is no her or the others to tell but I'm pissed that I let myself get inspired in the first place."

It's definitely fur no it's definitely hair what difference does it make why do you call it that it's definitely accumulating that's what you see it's not that bad building up in the corners quite a bit somewhat call them off or I'll call them to relinquish them to my deceased paths lost all those scrapbooks witnessed too many trash cans falling over and barfing them up all over the floor when there were still those types of surfaces to move upon ignore them as they ram their folded arms into the back of your head side by side is how the lies travel together face them or turn your backs to them precede them follow them what difference does it make why do you call it that it's definitely accumulating that's what you see it's not that bad building up in the corners quite a bit somewhat call them off or I'll call them to relinquish them to my deceased paths.

He was going to help her up over the wall before they surrounded them after she was going to help him over the wall during the performance behind the wall overcoming the reticence to stay in the dark and pass through rooms surrounded with them talking to each other the costume made a pass at the uninterested after she had had enough of going going to help him over the wall during the performance highlighted by congestion highlighted by snoring twisting the volume on a bottlecap crusted with dog shit the volume of growling yawns increasing into insomnia.

"Better it was only snoring."
"Only snoring?  You wanted to know if there was anything besides that."
"No I didn't."
"You're going to deny it now?"
"Denial.  Yes, it's all the ammunition I have left to load into a mind that keeps drawing blanks."
"I was right here.  I heard you make the request for more."
"Stop trying to make a shit stain out of a void."
"I will not have you denigrating this."
"This?  What is this?  You won't even say what this is.  You won't even say interaction.  You were probably about to say it and decided instead to try to replace it with a belch and thought there was some vomit on its way but there is nothing on its way."
"Then you say it since you know what's going on inside me."
"Say it?  I'll say it and I don't know what's going on inside you nor do I care.  I only know what's been clinging to me.  This this interaction has been nothing more than when I notice my filthy shirt sticking to me and I untuck it out of my pants not even to shake it out or to feel the air that might be allowed inside because it burns anyway but because I don't want it fucking touching me."
"Mumblings or not tell me anyway."
"What mumblings?"
"You can deny it all you want but tell me a story."
"Stories have been the carcinogens nobody ever told me to quit they just keep handing them down can't do anything about the arrangements of our cells."
"I'm not saying anything."

Feeling responsible for things lost through the ticking away of eons where behind another layer of stars and their wardrobes light-years on the same planet away from the more the more what was it it was in the more arid places that the zits of the world put more distance between their conversations and each other. Ejaculations ceased to issue from their heads and they resigned their form and content to distorting faces and expressions.  Make that contorting feces and regressions make that what you will if that is what you think it comes down to or what it comes down to being the parts the units the components the factors when you used to spend all that time looking in drawers or between things when you ran out of paper walking on muddy road no rain but a leak from somewhere had wandered off in search of the source all that wasted giving up sick and tired worn out and wasting acceptance and surrender on searching for the source.


- Max Stoltenberg

HEDGING SILENCE

The nose-pickings were less chunky of late the body made its protests through its bleeding had to wait until that shit dried before starting again why wait there is always the waiting did it ever tell you the time when nothing came out did it ever tell you did it ever occur to you why there is always the waiting tilting the head the side that could still hear still take some fraction of the sounds that remain after the bottom was reached did they skip to the end and forego the beginning or did they not make it that far not bother just glance at what fit into the holes swallowed up the waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled into the listening as long as this part as long as this part of the road under the back and forth of trapped things something has you fooled into listening to a welling deep within did it ever tell you did it ever occur to you why there is always the waiting tilting the head the side that could still hear still take some fraction of the sounds that remain something has you fooled into the listening as long as this part as long as this part of the road waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled into the listening as long as life has that much of your attention waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled.

"My stomach hurts."
"It's because of the water we found."
"I know it's because of that."
"I'm tired so don't aggravate me."
"I'm nauseous so make sure you're not in my line of spew."
"You're regretting it."
"I know I produce a smaller volume."
"Not that.  I mean you're regretting finding the water."
"That's true.  I am regretting it.  What it did was to breach all those tight locked up places and flood them with its grease and set the whole miserable wheels and cogs in motion again."
"You know what this is?"
"You not following through."
"Where it goes to."
"Where?"
"You're asking me now?"
"I'm asking you about your asking your question."
"I wasn't asking a question.  I started with one yes but then I followed it up with a statement.  Now I see that you peeled off a piece of it and turned it into one."
"I see it squatting on a couch."
"So it has become a matter of who."
"Not in the least.  It has become a matter of what."
"There once was a man who would imagine he saw a young boy who would imagine the man was him when he would grow older and then reject the idea by waving his right hand across his neck in a slashing motion and the man would imagine himself interjecting in a conversation and see the young boy making the slashing gesture and the man would stop himself and say nothing more."
"Ever again."
"What ever again?"
"He would say nothing more ever again."
"That's not how it goes."
"It's not?"
"Not in the slightest."
"You're liking the way that sounds."
"I am, but not as much as this brings us to the most important part of the problem."
"Really?  You like that better?"
"Whatever again."
"He would say nothing more ever again."
"No, this brings us to where I say whatever again."
"Well, if you're going to say it like that."
"It's not how you say things.  It's what you always say."
"Which reminds me of a question I was going to ask."
"This is not going to involve square roots is it?"
"Do you remember when there were boxes?"
"Yes.  No.  Is this a trick question?"
"Do you remember the kind that could be lived in?"
"They were called something else weren't they?"
"No, I mean using discarded boxes to live in."
"Well, yes, if you put it that way and you have.  I yes I do remember spending some time in one of those."
"And when and where was that?"
"It was when I was older."
"Older?  You mean younger younger than you are now."
"I won't deny that I get confused."
"That's an understatement."
"Where is not any easier to answer."
"Where what?"
"Not where what.  Just where.  And this brings us to the most important part of the problem."
"And you like the way that sounds."
"For the moment.  When nothing else remains all you can do is stay in a box if you can still find one or remember when or where."
"And where is what brings us to the most important part of the problem."
"And where is what?"
"If you want to go on and break that off the front."
"It's all I have left to deface these days."
"I think you are overstating things."
"And this is what brings us to the most important part of the problem when we think we remember what we are referring to when we think we remember a box and what it is or was or what it used to contain."
"Do you remember another way?"
"Of continuing?  I think that's what I've been trying to get around to."
"Another way of containing something.  Do you remember that?"
"Holding?"
"Yes that one."
"Holding.  What about it?"
"Do you remember holding something or someone?"
"I only remember holding my face in my hands.  It's not very far from my mind as it oozes out a little more condiments of my memories each day gradually losing more of their flavor."
"Do you remember another way?"
"Of continuing?"
"Yes continuing."
"Something about it coming down to less than a handful and we end up in the same place like that makes any difference. Ow!  What did you hit me for?  Is that supposed to be have something to do with a box?"
"Did it ever occur to you why there is always the waiting tilting the head the side that could still hear still take some fraction of the sounds that remain something has you fooled into the listening as long as this part as long as this part of the road waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled into the listening as long as life has that much of your attention waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled."

Just glance at what fit into the holes swallowed up the waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled into the listening as long as this part as long as this part of the road under the back and forth of trapped things something has you fooled into listening to a welling deep within did it ever tell you did it ever occur to you why there is always the waiting tilting the head the side that could still hear still take some fraction of the sounds that remain something has you fooled into the listening as long as this part as long as this part of the road waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled into the listening as long as life has that much of your attention waiting hovering the ear above the road fooled.

The nose-pickings were less chunky of late the body made its protests through its bleeding had to wait until that shit dried before starting again why wait there is always the waiting did it ever tell you the time when nothing came out did it ever tell you did it ever occur to you why there is always the waiting tilting the head the side that could still hear still take some fraction of the sounds that remain after the bottom was reached.


- Max Stoltenberg

HALTING LINES

Meaning meaning what meaning is for meaning rushing from the Sun slowing down crawling under the darkness the Moon is hovering like a bulb for heads to bow underneath avoiding smacking against the dim light of muted discourse must not say it must not say how upset it all makes all of it feel meaning meaning what meaning is for meaning rushing from the Sun slowing down crawling under the darkness the Moon is hovering like a bulb for heads to bow underneath avoiding smacking against the dim light of muted discourse must not say it must not say how upset it all makes all of it feel those lines on the side those lines look like a bird made out of bent neighborhoods made out of lines thick with ruined water put this hand around the neck of that cup emptied of people their blood coloring the walls between sides where the grumbling mixes in the metal hall that rings with the shrillness of life twisting nipples turning down the volume as the train passes alongside the lines of the track quickly coming to a halt in the dirt.

When did the city stop making noise?
When did the city stop making silence?
When did the shit that flows in its veins
stop and start again
to the rhythm of ulterior motives
stop and start again 
stop and start again
stop
and start 
again

Nuance was his name changed from something in the past don't exactly know how long ago Nuance took up the cause of so much nothing to be concerned about elevators stop on every floor there is between buildings the trees flat inside the pages of wind what happened when did it come about that Nuance was his name changed from her name his name changed her name pinching lips despising all the doors in her miserable life he and he and he and he kept showing up go away not you not her not her not not not tying one on nothing to be concerned about elevators and their buttons to open eyes on another day another floor another level to interpret when it was the weight of the top falling through on its way to where she was showing him when things fell through her name pinching lips despising all the doors in her miserable life he and he and he and he kept showing up go away.

Move your mouth just might hear something like no you don't have to open your mouth don't want this frustration getting on that tongue of yours tried to learn watched a couple of mouths in my time this time more like less like it is more like less like and meaning meaning what meaning is for meaning rushing from the Sun slowing down crawling under the darkness the Moon is hovering like a bulb for heads to bow underneath avoiding smacking against the dim light of muted discourse suck it up suck up the tears and snot high back up behind the eyes where all that is seen is the absence of nothing to be concerned about where the desert is being expanded in the backyard of your eyes dry dry eyes.

Open up.
That's what I've been told.
Don't miss out when now is the time of your readiness.
So you have informed me.
Me?  This is that rare occasion the opportunity has presented itself.
Not really.  You've tried to talk me into it about 6 or 7 times.
That can't be.
Actually it was more like 8 or 9 times.
You are confusing me with the other guy.
The one with the jacked up skin condition under his right eye?
The other other guy the one with the bike with both tires deflated.
You mean the twit with the bike up his ass.
He's pretending to ride the bike.
It's up his ass.
I don't know what to say to that really.  You'd think with all the clutter that you'd reach a point in your life where you'd finally have enough of drawing blanks in your mind.  
If he wasn't dead, I'd tell him to go fuck himself.
It's all the lost interest I tell you.  You get tired of the conversations with yourself when they end up just being rehearsals for manslaughter.  Is that any way to try to break one's leash?  You're better off dropping your snout into the dirt and watch your chain slide down the pole of activity and existence for a stalemate.  
The key word is mate until she told me to open up and tried to get me to choke on the rest of the world.
Mine gave up on me and rightly so.  She would place those hands of hers on this face of mine the one with the cracks chiseled deep with obstinacy and she had lost interest long ago in openings long ago.  She was vainly trying to lower my head away from the glare of the lights in the sky and space and buildings and machines and see the shadows she and I cast on the ground and the spike sticking out of the Earth and how for all its swaying it comes back to the center with all my struggling.  Those hands of hers.  The key word for me is stale.  Life only amounts to what gets into and crawls out of cabinets.
I think you're confusing me and her with someone else.
I wouldn't doubt it.

Rushing from the Sun slowing down crawling under the darkness the Moon is hovering like a bulb for heads to bow underneath avoiding smacking against the dim light of muted discourse must not say it must not say how upset it all makes all of it feel those lines on the side those lines look like a bird made out of bent neighborhoods made out of lines thick with ruined water put this hand around the neck of that cup emptied of people.


- Max Stoltenberg

DISSOLUTION

That tooth has been detaching a little more each day each breath seems to not lift it away but squeeze it on each side has been synchronizing its efforts to detach that tooth a little more each day each breath seems to loosen the knot of things that were thought to belong inside that head ever have an inkling is it is that it that inkling an inkling ever have an inkling of a head falling away down a hole in the floor in the ground outside of an out of business place that used to sell something that was useful once to not quite so many and that's why it was thought not so useful and worth getting worn away by time and the air and no one around except those that might show up and out of curiosity slathered in bitterness accelerate its demise and in the back where detachments happen enlisted for occurring in spite of books the vertebrae cracked from humorless days pages collapsed in by the law of brute force weakness trapped under the feet of erasers well maybe further behind all of that dying light informed of another dance it has missed is where that head has gotten off to just to be alone and be falling away down a hole in the floor in the basement in the wall in the closet in the planet outside the one that has invaded that head that has or used to have that tooth that has been detaching a little more each day each breath seems to not lift it away but squeeze it on each side has been synchronizing its efforts to detach that tooth a little more each day each breath seems to loosen the knot of things that were thought to belong inside that head.

It'll never come back.
What'll never come back.
Something I'm supposed to act upon.
Act upon what?
A stage it's only a stage I'm going I have been going through.
If it's a stage that you have been going through then why did you say it'll never come back?
Because hamburgers used to be edible.
Now now you've ejected yourself from the vehicle and you're tumbling about back there and I'm the one who will be asked the questions due to there being no one else to ask since the only thing they've been asked is to leave.  
Have I come to a stand still after all my tumbling about?
I'll get back to you on that.
Do I break any ice?
Are you kidding?  You used to crack it with your mouth until you were filled with nothing but blanks in your sentences trying not to count trying not to measure and then you got interested again only when it was no longer fashionable to warrant anything resembling a study and don't think this is the time for cutting me off just because the word eludes me I'll get there eventually studious that was it a studious 
Manner?  
No.
Not a studious manner?
I said no.
A studious attitude demeanor a studious posture perhaps or a siding.
A studious siding?
For the house.  
That's ridiculous.
All along and up the side bring it right up to the kitchen window.
You're doing this on purpose.
If you had a kitchen window.
On purpose to make me lose my train of thought.
If you had a kitchen.
Make me miss the next train of thought that is running late obviously.
If you had a house.
Make me stay over night.
Over night?
No more trains until the morning.  I don't remember when they start exactly.
Stay where?
In the terminal.
It's terminal all right.  If you had a terminal then you could have a place to stay so you could leave and never come back and then you could have it said of you he'll never come back or actually those stains were self-generated and not the work of other people throwing dirt and human waste at him at least not predominantly I don't have the percentage for quick reference at the moment.

Don't you worry
We're leaving now right now
We're going away
So you have enough food
You were right
We should have let you know
This wasn't planned
Sorry we forgot
forgot to ask
remembering hides so quickly
in the space between
open and closed doors

Keep them 
just like that
dark enough
not to be seen
where the parts 
of the desert mountain
dragged in under exploring feet
will not be rediscovered

You were right
We should have let you know
This wasn't planned
Or even if it was
Would you still give us
Those looks
You're giving us now
Right now don't worry
We're leaving now right now
taking our grimy forgetfulness
in order for clean tiles
of remembering 
to lock the door behind us

Where did you get that from?
From a kid who told his uncle that he had committed it to memory after a girl had given it to him printed on a sheet of paper that looked like it had fallen out of from somewhere.
And how did you happen to come about meeting this kid?
It has something to do with the girl who was either in his class or went to another school and she suddenly moved away one day and he stayed and he stayed and when he first encountered her at this park that had been shut down and become overgrown and he had insisted on playing something different from her and they argued and she suggested they take turns playing each other's game of pretend and she let him go first and they played some adventure where he was a knight rescuing her from some monster half dragon and half pig even though he liked pigs and she liked dragons and then they played her game where they were in school and she was the teacher and he was the student and he complained the entire time until she gave up and told him a story about how earlier that day in school she noticed a group of kids making fun of a girl who was pinching her fat and playing with it.  He declared how angry this made him that kids would make fun of someone for being fat.  And the girl replied that they were making fun of her for a worse reason and when he asked what worse reason she answered for being herself.  He then tried to coax her into playing another adventure where this time the monster was a third bear a third horse a third zebra and a third duck.  After correcting him on his 4/3 leviathan she said she had to get home and then began running stopped turned around and said he had stepped in dog shit and did he want her to make him a quesadilla.
Is this the same girl who had nowhere to go and would go to where she could watch others come and go?
Maybe.  My recollection goes in and out.
Do the hills look any closer?
I can't tell if those are the hills or the mounds at the mine.
Let's just keep walking we might make it to the end of the shopping plaza this time.
No, it's too late.  Facing this way again.  We'll have to go back in and pretend to shop.
We'll take turns.


- Max Stoltenberg

THE LATEST

Tell you what how about how about that how about it in a telling way how about that disturbs a cut healed shut and the skin is closed for the day open for the night under the hair grown from thoughts of fancied habits meeting no one here just sitting around with an empty glass eyeing glassy eyes outside the perimeter the fenced out alternatives mending their pants smelling of asses kissed in the mirror for effect waking up from non-existence damn this match won't light it this waking up is only for effect.

Go back
Form a line
with your tests
for example
there was a man
who was left by his wife
in a car that wouldn't start
he tells himself
all he still sees
thinks he still sees
this is what he tells himself
that he can
that he can see her 
leaving still leaving
in the distance

It takes time for things to completely exit the picture and when they do all that time springs back into your hand like a rubber band misfiring drowsy wardrobe soaked in painkillers don't mention it until this finger no this finger is lifted that wasn't it what do you mean by lifted know that it was here and now realize that eyes were taken off of it and it was lifted taken out not off off for several reasons none of which is worth going over.

Tell you what how about how about that how about it in a telling way how about that disturbs a cut healed shut and the skin is closed for the day open for the night under the hair grown from thoughts of fancied habits meeting no one here just sitting around with an empty glass eyeing glassy eyes outside the perimeter the fenced out alternatives mending their pants smelling of asses kissed in the mirror for effect waking up from non-existence damn this match won't light it this waking up is only for effect.

Go back
Form a line
with your tests
for example
there was a man
who was left by his wife
in a car that wouldn't start
he tells himself
all he still sees
thinks he still sees
this is what he tells himself
that he can
that he can see her 
leaving still leaving
in the distance


- Max Stoltenberg

BOWL RIM

They stopped asking for a while and during that time that disappeared like a flashlight with scant battery power turned on and watching it snap off pathetically and the light weakly breaks up into the darkness layered over the skeleton of Earth tucks the frail beam into its pocket of dead skin.  Standing in the absence of sight surrounded by the thickness of silence that whispers in the ears you're next until it becomes sorrowfully apparent that the air continues to stir its contents as it comes back to standing in the absence of sight surrounded by the thickness of silence that whispers in the ears both ears plural you're next singular until it becomes sorrowfully apparent that the air continues to stir its contents as it comes back to standing in the absence of take your pick and sometimes you will be right and more times you will be wrong because they stopped asking.

A third wasn't enough and in other instances it wasn't enough even though what had been told was not enough to convince one that what they had been doing or how they were trying to better themselves was not enough and that was that wasn't even enough to those who felt that way and those who felt that way who thought it might be better at first and then learned better of it to realize it was not enough decided or convinced themselves they had no choice to let those they always knew were never enough to really just accept the reality that they were not enough and that was only the half of it.

"Which one of you is going to read?" she asked.
"Him," he said pointing at Ooph who was just starting to open a bag of corn chips.
"Why me?" asked Ooph fumbling with the bag.
"Because Neetassel is getting sick of hearing you drone on and on about how much other people drone on and on," said Starchcrust who stamped each of his feet twice until he stamped his right foot an extra time because he was trying to reset his gonads after becoming too uncomfortable with his penis retracting.
"Have you thought maybe about retracting that statement maybe?" asked Ooph who assumed the at ease position in order to unstick his ass crack.
"Why did you put it like that?" asked Starchcrust trying to imagine the last time he was a passenger in someone else's car and they suddenly slammed on the brakes.
"Put it like what?" asked Ooph who returned to attention in order to make another try at unclogging his butt canal with greater velocity.
"I think we before we proceed any further might want to consider how we that is how I think we before we proceed before getting anywhere because we are not are putting things so think about it," declared Starchcrust falling forward.
"What could I have possibly said that would lead to your making such confused expressions of asshattery," asked Ooph trying to wipe from his memory his inability to snap in half a frozen chocolate bar.
"Are you doing jumping jacks?" asked Neetassel dropping a breath mint onto the carpet where a group of ants were collecting their dead.
"Neither of you are going to remember Loser World's menu so I'll just diffuse any suspense that might have been piling up and offer a couple of hints that do not involve re-enactments of any lesser known upsets in sports history," said Ooph wondering if he was oblivious to yet another one of his organs failing.
"Reverse engines, constable, and give our dear lady of frayed patience a straight answer and then we'll leave you to your blithering," said Starchcrust conducting a test tap of his index finger to one of his nostrils and stopping suddenly when he experienced a sharp pain probably due to a sharp dried chunk of mucus.
"I didn't know a constable gets a turn at reversing the engines," said Ooph analyzing the slimy substance underneath a scab he had just peeled off of his knuckle.
"Do the two of you flatulent confabulators know what happens if I can't manage to chisel the two of you into getting this crappy-assed wreck off the ground?" threatened Neetassel producing a replacement breath mint and sighing heavily when she noticed it was broken in half.
"I want to apologize in advance for any additional ways we may prove inadequate in complying with your quality of life requirements," blubbered Starchcrust picking at crumbs of ceiling plaster that had accumulated on his bottom lip.
"And what about you?  Are you going to apologize?" asked Neetassel seizing the opportunity while wondering about the shelves that collapsed in her linen closet.
"It's already too late for me to apologize in advance," said Ooph making a splapping noise when he sat down.
"What was that sound?" asked Neetassel after having opted to address the disgusting noise rather than the foul stench that accompanied it.
"Probably someone jumping out the window from the 17th floor again and landing in that pool of industrial waste build-up in that corner of the courtyard," said Starchcrust frowning at the piece of calendar he watched floating in the coffee pot.
"What corner of the courtyard?" asked Neetassel finally coming up with a 4-letter word for feces.
"The corner with the pool of industrial waste build-up," said Starchcrust thinking about the discoloration of the floor tile around the toilet in the bathroom at home on the 12th floor men's room in the back bedroom behind the fax machine room on the 22nd floor back when he was about 11, 12, 12th floor men's room next to the ladies when she walked out wearing the color that didn't belong in this desert haven't seen her in several months couple of years maybe she made it out of here who makes it out of here making out 17 in a dream that dried in the desert 17, 17th floor maybe tomorrow go up there and go to the window and look down at the pool of industrial waste build-up and then, "The pool of industrial waste build-up," he added.
"You already said that," said Neetassel.
"I did," said Starchcrust.
"Why don't you read?" asked Neetassel.
Starchcrust was silent.
"What?  Afraid of the responsibility if you're successful?" asked Neetassel.
"And that's your apology," said Starchcrust.
"I'm not apologizing for anything," said Neetassel, "when I have you two numbskulls."
"Numbskulls?  They could do better than that." said Starchcrust.
"Who could do better than what?" asked Neetassel.
"The kids who always managed to find me when I went out to the playground after lunch.  They'd gather the crowd around me and try to get me to recite something or sing a song just because they overheard me singing a song I learned from a record I got from the library," said Starchcrust.
"Library?" asked Neetassel.
"They were these flat black vinyl things that you scratched with a needle to hear music," said Starchcrust.
"And what's a record?" asked Neetassel.
"Something we all get once we gather up enough particles to make a critical mass inside our mother's uterus," said Starchcrust, "and they'd gather a large crowd and then would stare at me not because they were interested in what I was singing or reciting but just because they had someone else they could tell what to do manage and I would try to find a part of the school I could hide and sometimes I'd find a little corner or those stairs that led to the locked door of the basement.  That door was dark and I wanted to go in there but it was locked and then they found it and they would hang out there and ruin it and want me to recite or sing I couldn't bring myself to say no but I being on the spot that I had originally found as a hiding place was no performing place and they would become so disarmed and frustrated then they would really kick in the ridicule and leave me alone finally alone and they can't make me perform anymore that is as long as they can't find me.  That door had to be locked until they found it and had someone to poke scratch me with a needle to make music.  That door had to be locked maybe tomorrow look out the window on the 17th floor and look down on the pool of industrial waste build-up maybe tomorrow."
"You already said that," said Neetassel.
"Maybe tomorrow," said Starchcrust.

Sleep interrupted by the next morning under the desert sun the walls of the icetray burn hands that reach out chap and split lips of humor of entry into hiding in the wetness freezing slowly freezing within the walls of the icetray under the desert sun.

"You already said that," said Neetassel.
"Maybe tomorrow," said Starchcrust.

A third wasn't enough and in other instances it wasn't enough even though what had been told was not enough to convince one that what they had been doing or how they were trying to better themselves was not enough and that was that wasn't even enough to those who felt that way and those who felt that way who thought it might be better at first and then learned better of it to realize it was not enough decided or convinced themselves they had no choice to let those they always knew were never enough to really just accept the reality that they were not enough and that was only the half of it.

- Max Stoltenberg

PLASTIC BREATH

The itch was up between wrinkled denial shadows return into the vents of the skull pressed and rolled into the matter that counters nothing as it becomes the runoff trickling towards the edge about to drip onto the floor blocked by a foot naked to blades being sorted by clumsy hands not the only one the only one for now despise now and as for the future what a stupid fucking word abhor making the sound of that piece of shit word with the mouth have nothing to wipe with again so it fell out and it lies on the gravel between us excuse me between nothing and not much more than nothing now that there's a there is a there is a space not even a space filled in by the crust of absence blown in there from the direction of that part of the world that never catches up this residence if you can call it that and the crust of absence couldn't care less to call it anything now that there's a there is a there is a space not even a space now despise now and as for the future not that again.

Damn damn what damn the water that doesn't seem to does not put out the burning get the algae that's not it get the cinnamon don't know why cinnamon is there not there pretending to juggle between empty palms these flaccid palms of the desert the desert and its space not even a space filled in by the crust of absence blown in there from the direction of that part of the world that never catches up this residence if you can call it that and the crust of absence couldn't care less to call it anything now that there's a there is a there is a space not even a space now despise now and as for the future not that again past present and future the triplets from the fertility drugs of time's brass knuckled instruments filled with old spit.

"What is it?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?  I can see.  I am still part of this thing, you know."
"You mention those as if they're actually positive attributes."
"I know.  I've been slipping more lately taking a soak in the vat of optimism."
"Where is this vat?"
"4th floor I think."
"You think?"
"No, it's on the 4th floor."
"You're sure about that?"
"Not really."
"I knew it.  You can't remember."
"I haven't been there in a while, but the damn stuff takes a long time to wear off."
"That's certainly the case and it's your memory."
"You're right.  It is my memory and I know this for a fact because of what occurred to me just the other day."
"And what was that?"
"What was what?"
"What was it that occurred to you the other day?"
"Well, I was speaking with the woman from the 6th floor when I went down to the 8th floor for something must have been one of those 4-inch binders we're having to use more recently."
"Recently?  We've been using those for over a year.  You probably went down to 8 for one of the 5-inch binders.  You don't have to go on.  This is a good example of itself just by what you mentioned or tried to mention so far."
"There was more."
"I'm sure there was."
"It'll need some shaking out, but if you hang on it might be worth your while."
"I doubt it, you make your memory sound like you're having trouble voiding your bladder."
"I was thinking more along the lines of clearing out a garden hose that hasn't been used in a while."
"They both sound the same to me."
"That's probably due to my having brought them up as ailments at one point or another."
"My memory is not as bad as yours.  So if this is some pathetic attempt to prove otherwise you can forget it."
"If you would just let me go on with what I was trying to say you'll see there was more."
"More regarding what?"
"About what I was saying about my trip to 8."
"Yes, 8.  Of course.  I knew what you were referring to all along.  It was my way of testing you to see if your memory was still intact on that one."
"You were testing me?"
"And you just barely managed even though I went easy on you."
"I don't like it when you test me.  Don't I answer enough questions, audits, questionnaires, surveys, and all the shit I need to keep myself together just so I can see your fucking face every morning and then you test me?"
"Yes and you just barely passed.  Would you like to know by how much?"
"Not really.  Not if you're going to do that thing with your fingers pinching them ever so close together."
"Steal my thunder why don't you?"
"Don't worry, there's plenty of surplus of that to go around."
"The answer is still no."
"No to what?"
"You going on."
"But there was more and the shaking out and all that."
"Don't even bother.  There's no point.  Am I right?"
"Probably."
"Who was the woman from 6?"
"I thought you didn't want me to go on.  Is this where we make that inevitable descent into your ex-wife?"
"What did you say?"
"I know.  It sounds better when you say it.  Insults have always had that quality for me.  They always seem to sound better when they come from someone else."
"How many times do I have to explain this to you?  It's the inevitable ascent that's the most painful thing about it.  That's what comes before the descent to fuck it all up.  It couldn't just be you're walking along the Earth and then it opens up and swallows you and has done with it.  No, there have to be all these hills and mountains to climb and fall off back into the desert."
"That's what she was saying to me."
"My ex-wife?"
"No, the woman from 6.  She was trying to tell me about what happened to her breasts."
"Her breasts?  Hardly ever have any interactions with these people on other floors and she has to pop her breasts out to you."
"She didn't pop out her breasts."
"They'd vilify me for whipping out my dick and grousing about structural and performance defects."
"You think anyone in any position is going to commit any time to writing criticism here?"  
"Maybe a memo?"
"Those are used for writing bullshit.  You know they break us down into little measurable units so they can have their building blocks of data for constructing floors and walls of information to make things look and sound better than they are.  That's what she was getting at."
"What who was getting at?"
"The woman from 6.  What she was getting at with her breasts.  She had so little time to tell someone else like me who had that look in their eyes of wanting to tell someone else about how they are no longer becoming."
"Unhappy with her looks?"
"No longer becoming anyone or anything.  She talked about filling and refilling her car so she could get here and keep herself from not going below a certain level."
"A certain level?"
"Where if she gets low enough all she'll feel is the backwash of others.  So she fills and refills until all she notices is how her breasts look."
"How do they look?"
"Never mind."

Damn damn what damn the water that doesn't seem to does not put out the burning get the algae that's not it get the cinnamon don't know why cinnamon is there not there pretending to juggle between empty palms these flaccid palms of the desert the desert and its space not even a space filled in by the crust of absence blown in there from the direction of that part of the world that never catches up this residence if you can call it that and the crust of absence couldn't care less to call it anything now that there's a there is a there is a space not even a space now despise now and as for the future not that again past present and future the triplets from the fertility drugs of time's brass knuckled instruments filled with old spit.


- Max Stoltenberg

DIRTY GLASSES

It's not in sight it's not in the cards it's not in the bedroom it's not in the estimation it's not in the sprucing up a bit it's not in the spilling of the tea into an ear head shakes the whole body up the wall up the walls and all that sort of textbook flowchart behind the handling of the fan making the unsneezed sneeze all that he has to hold on to towards an abrupt stopping of a nap with your head in the bookcase bottom shelf meanderings there's another word for it but not going to even try to look it up why even look into it around corners or into corners it's not in sight it's not in the cards it's not in the bedroom it's not in the estimation it's not in the sprucing up a bit it's not in the spilling of the tea into an ear head shakes the whole body up the wall up the walls and looking up towards the ceiling rotting as it does down upon the floor sending its notes and waving of the hand twisting the wrist to the strings and brass and winds it's not in the mountains keeping back the somewhere else from the yearning that is here and going out like a match that lit nothing very little going out like nothing very little lit by a match going out can't don't want to lift these thoughts out from under the fist around the mouth to break what send it from some we from someone else send it from the ceiling rotting as it does down upon the floor sending its notes and waving of the hand twisting the wrist to the strings and brass and winds it's not in the mountains keeping back the somewhere else from the yearning that is here and going out like a match like the toilet paper that won't be pulled out from between that which separates one's ass from one's foolishness whatever back to the match which has to do with the mountains and the mountains keeping back the somewhere else from the yearning that is here and going out like an old bulb in the bathroom and the toilet paper back to the toilet paper and the crack and the foolish pulling off of the slowing grinding slowing pain in the left cheek of the face sky and the grumbling in the sky vibrates the tables the chairs the pictures on the walls not there anymore try to remember that the next time there is a use for images all that is left is the tongue retracting from saying what has already been said.

What is that rock for?
Setting the table.
We don't have a table.
I'm making this the table.
We don't even have a this.
Back to that again.
It needs something else.
Like what possibly?
I need to go look for some.  I'll be back in a few days.  Make that several days.
Remember the last time you went off exploring.
No I don't.
That's my point.  I had to rebuild you from scratch.
I wish you had let me figure it out on my own instead of imposing your affairs into the whole chain of paper clips hooked together and calling it me.  I don't see how I'll ever be able to trace my steps back through your meddling to the previous me before that.
The problem is I've had to restart you several times.
So there's no telling how far back it goes.
It is all I have to say.
I might have run out on my own years ago but you had to keep making up stories.
Had to do something with that vague state you get into.

Mention it to the folded arms
Waste the breath and it
Beaten into blood
Her hands painfully lower 
herself into a fountain dry 
far from the center of the world
off and guessing has been

less insistent
eventually fallen behind
the back of the drawer of her underwear
socks with color untangled
by closed eyes
and folded arms
mention it to the folded arms
Waste the breath and it
Beaten into blood
Her hands painfully lower
herself into a fountain dry
far from the center

Off you go then.
What if I stay after all?
Stay?
Yes, if I stay instead of going then I can watch you to make sure you don't start meddling when you feel the need to start me again or rebuild me as you put it and you put it and that's the problem.
That's true.  All right then.  Stay.
Maybe you're trying to trick me into staying so you can engage me in conversation and exert your influence and the stories.
That's true.  All right then.  Go.
Maybe I have a better chance if I stick to my original plan of setting the table and looking for something else to set it with and exploring.  I enjoy exploring.  That's what I tell myself or was it you who said I was a curious sort.
No that wasn't me.  It isn't always me.  Sometimes it's you and when you said that I don't think that's how you meant it.  I am a curious sort is what you said about yourself.  Nothing to do with your going off exploring nothing to do with another table setting.
Another table setting that's when I was about to be off.  Sometimes I could manage to elude you for days at least I think that's what I could manage at times or a couple of times or one time perhaps.
Perhaps.  Or perhaps not.  The thing is the truth is a thing.  You are so fucking slow and you make it so easy to catch up to you.  Sometimes I even toy with you the very idea and spot you a few hours or a few days and I then somehow close the gap you bump into me and I see the fear in your face and how you try to force that terror-cracked face of yours into a smile and the ridiculous exchange ensues and you are so desperate for a bowl of fragments to call you.
You tell me all about the things I tell myself and then I just tell myself that's what I tell myself that I am letting you smear what you scratch off your skin into the stories you smudge on the tops of my cheeks under my eyes under my very nose just to amuse you.  I set the table and I know that when you mock every setting of the table more people end up in the ground entombed beneath where they tried to convince themselves to explore where they used to tell themselves what a curious sort they were.

It's not in sight it's not in the cards it's not in the bedroom it's not in the estimation it's not in the sprucing up a bit it's not in the spilling of the tea into an ear head shakes the whole body up the wall up the walls and all that sort of textbook flowchart behind the handling of the fan making the unsneezed sneeze all that he has to hold on to towards an abrupt stopping of a nap with your head in the bookcase bottom shelf meanderings there's another word for it but not going to even try to look it up why even look into it around corners or into corners it's not in sight it's not in the cards it's not in the bedroom it's not in the estimation it's not in the sprucing up a bit it's not in the spilling of the tea into an ear head shakes the whole body up the wall up the walls and looking up towards the ceiling rotting as it does down upon the floor sending its notes and waving of the hand twisting the wrist to the strings and brass and winds it's not in the mountains keeping back the somewhere else from the yearning that is here and going out like a match that lit nothing very little going out like nothing very little lit by a match going out can't don't want to lift these thoughts out from under the fist around the mouth.


- Max Stoltenberg