Wednesday, April 24, 2013

ARTERIAL TRESPASS

Dragged kicking and screaming was thrown from a window  nailed into a picture frame banging its head against cavity walls disposed of rejected and expelled from sentenced to crushed into a space too big for its blood to stay in one place a course in tragedies extorted and appropriated into a line a narrow passage that stretched for breath after breath nonsense was at the window how did the view get trifled with too late to be left alone too late to be left.  That is not that is not dust but the dried guts of a bug the only thing they could be correct anyone about if they were given the opportunity and they never weren't that is not dust and they never weren't.

Not fit for a couch not even fit for how they couched their fits time has been shot into the skin like flakes of cereal soaked with grape juice the experiment of a child the beginning of the familiar odor of failure to permeate every piece of clothing out in the streets and up close under the nose dangling from the top of the brain tortured in the private narrow suffocating bedroom pressing issues someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft its time to look ahead straight ahead at the towels on the wall of the elevator blocking the controls towels unwashed towels the room is heading straight down the down button someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft.

Reading between the lines between the walls between stories between floors that is reading between talking between each other's running out running out of things to say they had run out on it all by getting away from it all by tucking themselves in between it all a tight squeeze for all the running out on it all they ended up ending up running into it all into each other into each other's running out running out of things to say that had run out on it all by getting away from it all by tucking themselves in between it all reading between the lines between the walls between stories between floors that is reading between talking between each other's running out running out of things to say they were floored the backside of wallpaper.  

Lack found it difficult difficult to open his mouth to speak let alone turn his head.  He mumbled, "Are we horizontal?"

Centesis stopping her what little movement she could make in order to hear Lack better, asked, "What?  Are we what?"

"Are we horizontal?" repeated Lack.
"Are we vertical?" 
"Or are we that?"
"You found your hat?"
"Which one?"
"The one with the weird symbol on it."
"5 of them had weird symbols."

5 boxes of personality test booklets out of 11 had been lost in shipping how else how else? would it happen?  would it happen? how else would it happen but when they were distracted by the 2nd violin section evoking the deaths of many at the hands of those evoking many whining otters if given the capacity to gargle leaving 6 boxes behind.

"Which one?"
"The one with the weird symbol on it."
"6 of them had weird symbols."
"What if you had half as many hats?"
"And how would this come about?"
"Because I asked the question."
"No, would this be the result of some accident or due to carelessness on my part?"
"Carelessness on your part?"
"Well, yes, do you realize how long it's been since I've had a cup of coffee?  I would have thought the withdrawal symptoms would have subsided by now."
"So what would happen if due to caffeine depletion you had half as many hats?"
"I probably would feel just as unwell as I do now."
"It wouldn't narrow anything down for you?"
"Narrow?"
"Narrow?  Anything?  Down for you?  You know in terms of narrowing down particular hats with particular weird symbols?"
"We're wedged inside framework so that my balls can be floss for a pair of nutcrackers and you're asking me if cutting my hats in half narrows anything down for me?"
"Yes."
"It has to be the weird symbol with the two sets of thick lines."
"The lines that go which way?  Horizontal or vertical?"
"The ones that go - never mind."
"Whichever direction we're going."
"We're not going in any direction."
"That's right.  I'm glad you're here to remind me."
"I'm not glad I'm here.  Or that you're here for that matter.  You know what I mean."
"I do.  Thanks for reminding me about that."
"You do."
"I do."
"I do."
"You do.  How does that strike you now saying I do?"
"I used to listen to my stereo in my bedroom when I was a teenager and I would put the speakers on the bed and lie down with my head between them and it was better than headphones until I would hear a knocking on the door and then it was over and there's the thought of going deaf because of the music but now that I have my head stuck between two walls and all I hear is the hum of machines or the scratching of the bug legs and their abdomens linger right where my head is and I can feel the terror of their hunger knocking on my skull it's only then that I get the I do my ear is smashed against it all I can hear is something else's digestive process and my mind is ready only then to get it ready to explode.  And here I am can't reach you can't touch you if I could get one of my hands into one of my pockets I don't think I have any more anecdotes left in there.  And how about you?"
"I used to be told that I'd go deaf if I continued to listen to my music too loud as well.  And they were right and I don't give a shit because what am I missing that I had to hear from them and anybody else?  They wanted me to make even better use of the inheritance we'd been given until I looked at my hands at my fingers and how thick and dirty they were as if it was my idea.  What am I missing going deaf with my music?  I'm not missing a damned thing of their going on and on about my imagination and exaggerating things damned things my bedroom growing up was piled with things damned things an inheritance of blame.  What am I missing going deaf with my music?  Getting out to what?  Nature always had a dry silence for me.  And we thought we were going places when we said those two words."
"Who'd have thought we'd end up in this place?  At least we're home."
"Home?"
"Or something resembling home.  Never mind.  It's the caffeine withdrawal."
"How long do you think you can keep using that excuse?"
"As long as the symptoms last."
"And how long do you think you can keep using that as an excuse?"
"As long as my neurons keep chirping the logic of that's that."
"And how long do you think your neurons will keep chirping?"
"As long as I can still hear that little bit of air escaping from your mouth that resembles when you used to laugh at my jokes."
"I used to laugh when you used to use the excuse of having said something nonsensical because you panicked.  Now you have to convince yourself that my sound of irritation resembles laughter."
"Or that this place resembles home."
"Resembles.  Does it get harder to convince yourself?"
"Sometimes.  And sometimes its easier and sometimes its harder.  Too stuck to even go through the motions."
"I once thought I heard that sound like water running and I felt this rush go through me because it was like I thought I had left the sprinkler on as if I really had and then I thought as if I really could just declare leave the water running it's so dry out there it'll never be enough just keep gulping it up disappearing and then I think I hear voices talking as if its people in a break room at work talking about other people as if its a TV show of people talking about other people talking about a TV show and then I think as if it really was a gardening show and then I think about the water running again and how dry it is out there gulping it up absorbing it away disappearing even though I still think I hear that sound of water and maybe its outside or inside me until I almost fell asleep when they left this section alone and moved on for a while too short a while until I could hear them come back with their bug legs scratching until I feel their abdomen by my head like you do like I do until it's neither what's on the inside or the outside that counts."


Dragged kicking and screaming was thrown from a window  nailed into a picture frame banging its head against cavity walls disposed of rejected and expelled from sentenced to crushed into a space too big for its blood to stay in one place a course in tragedies extorted and appropriated into a line a narrow passage that stretched for breath after breath nonsense was at the window how did the view get trifled with too late to be left alone too late to be left.  That is not that is not dust but the dried guts of a bug the only thing they could be correct anyone about if they were given the opportunity and they never weren't that is not dust and they never weren't.

Not fit for a couch not even fit for how they couched their fits time has been shot into the skin like flakes of cereal soaked with grape juice the experiment of a child the beginning of the familiar odor of failure to permeate every piece of clothing out in the streets and up close under the nose dangling from the top of the brain tortured in the private narrow suffocating bedroom pressing issues someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft its time to look ahead straight ahead at the towels on the wall of the elevator blocking the controls towels unwashed towels the room is heading straight down the down button someone else pressing issues someone else pressed the down button and now its taking its time down the shaft.


- Max Stoltenberg








Wednesday, April 10, 2013

THE DUNE IS DOWN

Hollow flashlight 
on the upside down
paper plate dented
and empty cups
frozen in the middle
of a step 
of a dance
brought to a stop
by the ending of the breeze


Unfriendly clouds heavy
with distaste for what they ground
under their wheels 
thickening with the belts that wrap
around their sunrises and sunsets
darker grey
shallower black

Dropped in to say
after they leave
behind their echoing
denunciations 
after they leave
a residue in the eyes
always there 
for suspecting
suspecting

Objects steeped in pouches
carried to terms misused
unfortunate incidental roads
sinking into the wasteland
to appear again
in the next dead end


- Max Stoltenberg

Monday, April 1, 2013

MEAGER PROPENSITIES

The hand hovered around the door-handle the hand hovered around again was that sound like a dark machine circling the house or a group of people or someone at the wheel of a large truck power-washed with their shit they only gave for that specific purpose don't crash into a home without it back lower gums hurting like that time when they did what they did under artificial light where no one seemed to be able to see a thing rows and rows of others rows and rows  of rooms rows and rows of halls linked together by separation threaded together by clothes that needed to listen to the time when the ass said it was time to go when stomaching things ached to the sound of a father's temper tempered to that sound around again was that sound like a dark machine circling the house or a group of people or someone at the wheel.

The hand hovered around the door-handle hovered around the door-handle off for another dig but this is about hovering is it not is it hovering in air in atmosphere this biosphere with masses floating hovering in it just standing sitting there hovering here this biosphere wrapped in a bag of flesh what's coming out now? won't come out maybe take a peek scratching the glass of the outside inside a larger sack of space a container hovering inside the outside of the inside of another bigger box folded in on itself for recycling used for recycling as the edges wilt and droop from the stains of connection with other things that hover just standing sitting there hovering here off for another dig but this but this is about about what was it is it it is it was what was what was it hovering away below hovering in dirt buried not to rest buried to hover in the cemetery's grease traps.

The hand hovered around the door-handle around the door-handle hovered the hand the hand that obscured the gap between the two wooden boards in the fence slanting slightly away from each other warped versions of their former connection or alongsidedness now they imposed on the next pair of outer wooden boards seeking confirmation of their positions rubbing splinters together for let us we must rub splinters together as the hand obscures the gap between the two wooden boards in the fence slanting slightly away from each other warped versions of their former connection or alongsidedness now they imposed on the next pair of outer wooden boards seeking confirmation of their positions rubbing splinters together for let us we must rub splinters together as the hand obscures the gap between the two wooden boards.

"We don't have much further to go."
"We have much further to go."
"We don't?  I mean we do?"
"We have much further to go."
"And why is that?"
"It is to be a drag."
"Is that to be the theme?"
"Themes?  We're all out of them.  The damned thing is just going to drag on I tell you."
"The problem is I believe you."
"What have I told you about that?"
"I need to stop a moment."
"Try all you like.  You can't stop moments."
"Enough of your pseudo-philosophy, I'm getting another one of those draining experiences."
"I've seen this before.  What do they call it?  There's a name for this.  It's referred to as you don't want to deal with anything because you are a pathetic excuse for an inadequacy."
"Yes.  That pretty much sums it up.  In a nutshell.  In an eggshell more like.  Careful how you move through space there."
"So this is you.  Tired of the signs following their admonitions and restrictions.  Tired of tearing them down and staring at the blank wall behind them.  Got your expectations up for open spaces.  Demolition makes room for more crowding.  This is how you want to be memorialized as a sign."
"I only want to rest maybe sleep and while you're talking about memorializing I'm open to that too."
"You know you won't be able to sleep.  You have the most difficult time of it and I don't see how you could even imagine to on this sand."
"Is that what you call this?"
"Why?  How would you describe it?"
"I don't know.  Throw up some adjectives and I'll see if I feel like rolling around in it."
"Let me take a swat at it.  How about sandy?"
"That name's not ringing any bells."

Eraser rubbings covered the angrily trammeled correspondence no getting in the last word this time it would just come back no longer at this address at this address there would no longer be a coming back no longer at this address two addresses remaining where they were empty until replaced by more words struggling to correspond to something to say under eraser rubbings covered the angrily trammeled correspondence no getting in the last word this time it would just come back no longer at this address at this address there would no longer be a coming back no longer at this address two addresses remaining where they were empty until replaced by more words struggling to correspond to something to say something to say

"What was that?"
"An interruption I think."
"No, what you said."
"I didn't have a chance to respond I was interrupted."
"There you go again.  You and your interruptions."
"If you could be a sign what would you say?"
"This property condemned."
"And I would probably -"
"What are you doing?"
"I was going to share what my sign would say."
"Did I ask you?"
"Well, no."
"And there you have it."
"And that's it then?"
"Perhaps if you ask me what I have planned for tomorrow I might ask you to tell me what you have planned for tomorrow."
"There's no need for me to ask that because we both have the same plan."
"And which plan do you think we both have?"
"Isn't it the one having to do with hastening our deaths?"
"Well, yes, there is that one, but it's been put on the back burner due to poor luck."
"And how would you define poor luck?"
"I don't know lack of materials and no proximity to precarious geological locales."
"What precarious geological locales?"
"You know - like an abyss?"
"An abyss?"
"To fall into?"
"I think we're already at the bottom of one."
"That could explain why we're having so much trouble agreeing on textures and how to describe them."
"Maybe if we find our way out of this abyss we could fall back into it and have done with it finally."
"Why would we do that?"
"You know hasten the hastening."
"How would we do that?"
"Reverse engineering I guess."
"Oh no not that.  They wouldn't be wanting us doing that.  Now get on with your guessing."
"Was it no more eye contact?"
"I was referring to the list of adjectives."
"Crumpled."
"If you had asked me about my plans I would have been taken back to never having washed my car for an image for itchy dried out eyes."
"Crumpled plastic used to occupy my time when I was young.  I would crumple it up so I could watch it expand and grow and it looked like it was alive.  Did you ever do that?  What's something you liked to do when you were young?"
"Young?  So long ago it's as if I've never been young.  In fact, I've never had a car.  That explains why I never got around to washing it."
"Watching that plastic open up moving on its own until I remembered I was making it happen.  Make it happen.  The more I made it happen the more I noticed how dead things really were."
"How long has it been since I've worn clean clothes?  If you had asked me about my plans I would have been taken back to leaning over an old washing machine tugging on wet tangled towels mixed in with the clothes and I can't see her purple blouse all I see is the towels that I know were in there because they had been shit on by our dying dog just before we put her down and I can't see the dog I know the towels smelled of her and it's gone washed out I just leaned in tightened my grip on the towels wanted to leave them wet but its gone washed out."
"I think our plan was to get back to town and see if anything has changed."
"I told you we shouldn't have left."
"You were the one who made that speech about if we stayed it would be as if we were sitting looking at the clock slowing down the hands and how it would be better if we went away and came back."
"I didn't think I was that persuasive."
"Persuasive?  Coercive you mean."
"You didn't have to listen to me."
"Well, I did.  We'll just make a U-turn when the time comes, is what you said."
"I said that?"
"Yes, you did."
"When it all starts looking the same over and over it's hard to know where to make a U-turn."

The hand hovered around the door-handle the hand hovered around again was that sound like a dark machine circling the house or a group of people or someone at the wheel of a large truck power-washed with their shit they only gave for that specific purpose don't crash into a home without it back lower gums hurting like that time when they did what they did under artificial light where no one seemed to be able to see a thing rows and rows of others rows and rows  of rooms rows and rows of halls linked together by separation threaded together by clothes that needed to listen to the time when the ass said it was time to go when stomaching things ached to the sound of a father's temper tempered to that sound around again was that sound like a dark machine circling the house or a group of people or someone at the wheel.


- Max Stoltenberg