Tuesday, June 25, 2013

NIGHTS OF DROSS

Shouted at
Show it
From behind a dark table
Vodka with testicles
Cutting board unwashed

Pulling the drapery
across the trash can
opening coughing up
it's up for grabs
so they say
from behind the dark table
show it
shouted at

dislodged eye of a cat
cracked electrical outlet
flip the switch and everything
is submerged beneath the demands
shouted at
show it
from behind the dark table
vodka with testicles 
cutting board unwashed

shaded grass under a bench
striped with harsh chuckling
flip the switch and everything
is submerged beneath the demands
bush caulked by fucking smirks
Pulling the drapery
across the trash can
opening coughing up
it's up for grabs
so they say
obsequious candlelight
collapses beneath scummy nostrils
it's up for grabs
so they say


- Max Stoltenberg

Saturday, June 15, 2013

WINDSOCK LAMENT

Gave gave it gave it a gave it a label gave it a sticker for acting as if it needs no further wondering wondering what wondering what that wondering wondering wondering what wondering what that wondering what that crap is hanging out of that wooden pole stretched across the fallen tree spread over a dark red dress crumpled over broken pale legs drizzled over sand and splinters.  Don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms and after especially after what you did he won't let go of it while he wants very much for you to let go of him don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms just a hint given a hint of the planet disappearing from beneath what has been determined as flat the tone of the voice just a hint given a hint of the planet disappearing from beneath a flat tone of voice keep it down remember that's all you will ever remember is to keep it down don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms and after especially after what you did he won't let go of it while he wants very much for you to let go of him don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms just a hint given a hint of the planet disappearing from what has been determined as flat your feet your feet are flat an air of speech an air of pressure an air of pressured speech presses its offensive on the air dead air not not good not good enough to be dead on arrival had to arrive had to show up flat squeezed out between the east and the west that meet on the bridge of the nose attempting to close over flat feet just a hint given a hint of the planet disappearing from under flat feet just a hint given a hint gave gave it gave it a gave it a label gave it a sticker for acting as if it needs no further wondering wondering what wondering what that wondering wondering wondering what wondering what that wondering what that crap is hanging out.

A smaller pond.

Where?

A smaller pond.  You need a smaller pond.

A smaller pond.  You need a vehicle to get to a smaller pond.

A smaller pond is what I'm talking about.

A vehicle is what I'm talking about.  One of my feet hurt.  I'd walk on to see which it is but I don't want to leave you behind or maybe I do.  I had worked on a speech for when we part company or company parts us.  Or it was an anecdote I found myself in the desert with some animal droppings.  

You found the anecdote by yourself in the desert?

I find myself in the desert with some animal droppings.  

It takes all kinds of droppings to find oneself.

I don't think I could identify whose droppings they were.  There were seeds in the dung probably narrative seeds.  Its when it comes to mind not unlike the time that fellow passing through on his way to some auction or execution was it when it comes to mind that his horse he came in on decides to take a dump.  Hard to concentrate on narrative seeds when you can't get the stench out of the anecdote.

Did you eventually find out?

Did I eventually find out what?

Did you eventually find out which foot hurt?

That's right.  I did make mention of my feet.  Funny how only a few sentences back can get themselves buried in the dark of the closet until someone presses on the clutter.  What a noise it makes not unlike the rattle of a skeleton.  Have you ever played the xylophone?

I think you mean the marimba.

I thought that's where people kept their boats parked.

That's a marina.

Marina?  Marina.  I once knew a woman named Marina.  And no she did not have a lot of others dock their boats around her.  Although I've always wondered why she never made our relationship a priority.

Probably a professional.

She did work in advertising.  People were always mistaking her for someone else.  Their need to be in the proximity of significance.

Is that what pulled you in?

No.  I ruled that out from the beginning.  Just didn't expect the end to follow so quickly.

I'm sorry.

Oh, that's all right.  Didn't expect another beginning to follow the end so quickly after that.

Another beginning?

Rather on and off.

Not unlike a fluorescent tube blinking.

That's precisely what was in my mind.

You don't say.  Quite a phenomenon when metaphors are shared.

I was being literal.  My brain blinks on and off.

As in the cinema?

Except it's in my skull.  I've spent most of my life in the dark.

Just what I thought.

No, that's just what I thought.

No, I mean I thought that looked like a store off in the distance and now that we've gotten closer it's obvious it has been burned to a crisp.

You need to work on your expectations.

There's an idea.  I could imagine a crater next time.

I wasn't suggesting in terms of destruction.

Does it matter?  It is not unlike a broken volume dial that you keep turning and turning failing to change how you're receiving things.  And and that wasn't her name at all.  It wasn't Marina.

What was she called?

What was she called?  She wasn't a name.  She was a phenomenon.  More a part of nature than I would ever be.  I have an anecdote where we took the car to the sea . . . 

To the sea?

To the seafood stand.  However . . . 

However?

However, I think we took the car, but it might have been after the car.

After the car?

And the brick wall.  So I think we took the train.

The train?

The bus.

You took the bus instead of the train.

Took the train to the bus to the seafood stand.

Picked up yourself some lobster?

Crab.  It would have been crab but this was after the seafood stand fell off the bridge.  Not just post-brick wall.  Remember.

Remember?

Remember that's all you will ever remember is to keep it down don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms and after especially after what you did he won't let go of it while he wants very much for you to let go of him don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms just a hint given a hint of the planet disappearing from what has been determined as flat your feet your feet are flat an air of speech an air of pressure an air of pressured speech presses its offensive on the air dead air not not good not good enough to be dead on arrival had to arrive had to show up flat squeezed out between the east and the west that meet on the bridge.  

On the bridge?

Of the nose.  Somewhat nasal that speech.  It was a speech after all and not an anecdote.

Was it anecdotal in any way?

Quite an audience.

Animate or inanimate?

Inanimate.  I complained about the ironies of their design features and begrudged them their not having a stake in the outcome.

A smaller pond.

Where?

A smaller pond.  You need a smaller pond.

When?

Thought it would be sooner rather than later what with there being less.

Why?

A smaller pond.  You need a smaller pond.

Remember that's all you will ever remember is to keep it down don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms and after especially after what you did he won't let go of it while he wants very much for you to let go of him don't try to lift him don't try to take him in your arms just a hint given a hint of the planet disappearing from what has been determined as flat your feet your feet are flat an air of speech an air of pressure an air of pressured speech presses its offensive on the air dead air not not good not good enough to be dead on arrival had to arrive had to show up flat squeezed out between the east and the west that meet on the bridge

of the nose.


- Max Stoltenberg





Monday, June 3, 2013

NONE OF THE ABOVE

She isn't looking at the eyes that have been looking for her for her eyes her eyes are colored in her gaze is off somewhere else she isn't looking she isn't seeing what is what is it that was being done on the sly for whose attention whose mistreatment of the details that brought a couple of stories together by a cold rusty metal railing between the sea left to evaporate in neglect and hair that is scribbled on the wind where she isn't looking at the eyes that have been looking for her eyes for her colored in eyes to color outside the lines do not cross any eyes do not cross any lines leaving it to scratch along in the dirt cut into the Earth a coloring book used up and hidden in a stack of unwanted material.  She isn't looking at the eyes that have been looking for her eyes her colored in eyes to color outside the lines do not cross any eyes do not cross any lines leaving it to scratch along alone in the dirt cutting a bloodless wound into the Earth a coloring book used up and hidden in a stack of unwanted material where is she looking she isn't looking where she is where she isn't looking where is the alarm that keeps going off over by the lamp off somewhere else she isn't looking she isn't seeing what is what is it that was being done on the sly for whose attention whose mistreatment of the details that brought a couple of stories together by a cold rusty metal railing between the sea left to evaporate in neglect and hair that is scribbled on the wind where she isn't looking.

Zoffsky watched the long line of people standing in the tunnel as another fluorescent tube began to blink off and on and off and on and off and on and off.

And on and off.

Schlemazel tapped Zoffsky on the shoulder.

And on and off.

Schlemazel tapped Zoffsky on the shoulder again.

Zoffsky looked up at the ceiling and noticed the blinking fluorescent tube.  "What is with this light now?" he asked in annoyance.

"Probably not screwed in properly," suggested Schlemazel.
"I do concur," answered Zoffsky.
"You do, huh?  I was talking about your head," muttered Schlemazel.
"My what?"
"Your head you vestigial limb.  It's probably not screwed in properly."
"Well, isn't that nice?  I suppose I can count you among one of my well-wishers."
"Not even that many."
"Draw a line through your name must I?"
"Why do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"You respond to a blinking light rather than my tapping."
"It's like that and stool softeners.  They're my #2 priority."
"You think you have a leg to stand on?"

And on and off.

And on and off.

Schlemazel tapped Zoffsky on the shoulder again and said, "There.  I'm tapping you again."
"Stop that."
"I will not."
"You will not?"
"I have to create an asymmetry."
"What do you mean an asymmetry?"
"An imbalance then.  I'm trying to create an imbalance."
"What for?"
"If life is balance then it ends up cancelling me out."
"What about see-saws?"
"What about them?"

Zoffsky stands there quietly thinking and then looks up at the blinking light.

And on and off.

Schlemazel tapped Zoffsky on the shoulder again.

"What?" asked Zoffsky angrily as he scanned the line of people in the tunnel to locate in his mind the least attractive person.

And on and off.

"What do you make of that?" asked Schlemazel pointing at the line of people in the tunnel.
"Like rats leaving a sinking ship."
"But they're getting on."
"Then like rats getting on a sinking ship."
"How do you know it's a ship?"
"I don't.  Do you have something in mind?"
"If we work with a choice A through D then which choice should we have it be?"
"Let's make it be choice B.  I always liked the letter B as in blimp or bonehead."
"Blastula."
"Blimp blimp."
"This sounds conclusive.  We'll make it choice B."
"Wait a moment.  A.  I really like the letter A as in ass stupid horse's ass."
"Yes, I like that, too.  Horse's ass."
"So what answer is choice A?"
"I don't will be choice A.  Now what do we want to be choice B?  I would like to go with lemon for choice B or erect mathematician."
"Erect mathematician?  Where do you get that?"
"Choice B.  Now what do you want to make choice C?"
"All of the above is very large in my brain."
"All of the above?"
"Hang myself for choice C.  Yeah, hang myself."
"Hang myself?"
"Shoot myself."
"Shoot myself?"
"Hang myself.  Pick what you want for choice D."
"I tend to lean towards none of the above."

"What was the question?"
"When I was in school and finally and I don't mean finally maneuvered to where I could start focusing on what I wanted to do for a living the teacher asked what got in the way of imagination and creativity.  I jumped up and answered clearly vague generalities.  He responded with a big smirk on his face and said that's exactly right.  I felt as if I was with something finally and I don't mean finally.  Then he asked us to give form to this thing for an exercise and I went blank like someone leaving an empty box in the pantry.  I looked around at the other students to see if anyone else was struggling like me and kept going back and forth between that and trying to think of how to give form to this thing.  There were one or two ideas but they were ripped into pieces before I could pull them up or out.  I didn't want to be selected as others were chosen or chose to go with their ideas.  And then there was no one left to go.  I heard the teacher call my name.  I looked at the teacher's shoes and felt my words coil around them as the shreds of ideas coiled around my own feet and the awkwardness was pulling me back down among the rubble so all I could do was sit down in the tatters and smell of my own failure.  The teacher paused and commented, Thank you for that example of vague generalities.  I feebly joked by saying, That's all I've got.  And the teacher retorted, I'm fairly certain of that."
"Where do you think the line ends?"
"Right about there."
"That's where it looks like it begins."

And on and off.

And on and off.

She isn't looking at the eyes that have been looking for her for her eyes her eyes are colored in her gaze is off somewhere else she isn't looking she isn't seeing what is what is it that was being done on the sly for whose attention whose mistreatment of the details that brought a couple of stories together by a cold rusty metal railing between the sea left to evaporate in neglect and hair that is scribbled on the wind where she isn't looking at the eyes that have been looking for her eyes for her colored in eyes to color outside the lines do not cross any eyes do not cross any lines leaving it to scratch along in the dirt cut into the Earth a coloring book used up and hidden in a stack of unwanted material.  She isn't looking.


- Max Stoltenberg