VARVES

Determination was under layers. The oscillating fan was turned on high. There were too many tunes to accompany the loner. And there were no more tunes along the going along a long going. The symbols crashed to the floor making an awful dramatic racket. There was no hole back there. Back there behind the bookcase there was no hole only wall from which crayon drawings have dropped onto dead bugs. Comas punctuated their lives until the reprieves were spliced with scenes from the day to day menu prolonged by excessive quotations. Just saying.

Margant: Exactly.

Looprin: Exactly what?

Margant: How you put it.

Looprin: How I put what?

Margant: What you just said.

Looprin: Are you just saying that to cover the fact you weren’t listening?

What will he say now? Will it entail another form of rationalization, linguistic parry, or focusing her attention on some emotive minutiae? Maybe he will camouflage himself in silence or look helpless and appropriate social cues from their last dog’s terminal illness? Maybe not or perhaps he will choose to walk about the room as he ponders her question only to unintentionally make a conscious effort to smack his shin against the corner of the coffee table. Perhaps or maybe not perhaps with the coffee table being out of reasonable range for extending unintentionality within the bounds of his conscious awareness as far as that goes along with other ongoing investigations along with other goings-on a long going.

Looprin: I’m waiting.

Not on the same page are we? Someone is certainly giving the sheet a deathly glare. Are her nostrils flaring and does that not enhance her facial features featured in his thoughts less as he drains an infected ear only to flush another swatch of blue once a glimpse of one of her eyes along the dripping to the floor mixing with unswept fur along the tile going along with is what it will end up doing and going a long way going along with it all a long going.

Margant: I was just saying.

Looprin: What are you muttering?

What do you know? She’s giving any exit strategy he might try an additional dead bolt. He was beginning to count on any leeway she might inadvertently traject in his direction regardless of her being dead set against it. What do you know? What do they know? They were both dead set against it. Irregardless of whether neither of them or those they lived their lives in reaction to not wanting to end up in any way reminiscent of the people they were refusing to emulate quite intentionally putting out of their minds the very people who would in no way shape or form or mold or fungus or baneful discharge have the most miniscule influence on the patterns the patterns and the patterns stemming from the determination that was under layers outer layers and inner layers along with those ever thinning and thickening patterns associated with patterns patterns of ongoing along with a long going.

Margant: What I meant to say was that I was just thinking about that story about the six monkeys not monkeys giraffes that told the four bankers regarding the article series of articles where they interviewed they being the football players whose coach was caught having not set his recorder to record their most recent game trial where they had to defend themselves against suspicions of foul play a foul smell that neighbors were complaining of what had reminded them of a barbeque they had been invited expelled from which they had been expelling food that was bad meat dead meat dead people who had recently died from ingesting bad meat made of dead people who originally thought they had been dead set against ending up on the menus they had ended up with.

Looprin: You’d think the four bankers would’ve known when to say enough is enough.

Margant: Three bankers now that I lay out the whole thing in front of me.

Looprin: And me.

Margant: And you.

Well, what do you know? What do they know? Now what has become known only just now was that one of the giraffes eight in all two down is all that was managed managing pins out at the bowling alley all day avoiding a day at the office where room was disappearing as entourages moved along going along hour after hour throughout the day avoided at the office where room was disappearing as entourages moved along going along with not enough going along with ongoing investigations the advanced symptoms of audits advancing into the next stage along the later stages of ongoing along with a long going.

Shoes to fill. Bowling shoes. All day avoiding a day at the office where room was disappearing as entourages moved along going along hour after hour bringing their attention focusing their attention on those little marks watermarks that were difficult to adjust their darkness a darkness for hiding information obliterating details not done yet how can it possibly get done soon to get it done eventually if only those benchmarks those little marks on the space in front laying it all out in front of them putting it out there with less room disappearing as entourages and their badges and their shoes to fill. Bowling shoes. Refocusing on the little marks reframing into the next frame after frame haven’t found the little marks there focusing finding the one that worked the last time when was the last time didn’t leave any standing there is still some standing with their badges standing there until they move along with going along with ongoing investigations all day long avoiding the office where room was disappearing as entourages moved along hour after hour bringing their attention focusing their attention on those little marks watermarks that were difficult to adjust their darkness a darkness for hiding information obliterating details not done yet how can it possibly get done soon to get it done eventually if only those benchmarks those little marks on the space in front laying it all out in front of them putting it out there with less room disappearing as entourages and their badges and their shoes to fill.

- Max Stoltenberg

RESPECTIVE CORNERS

Where has she been?  Where is he now?  Together on paths attempting to braid something along the way.  Upbraided with conclusions wrapped in plastic blown about.  Fences display trash at intervals that convince others of something but not them.  Not them.  Where has she been?  Where is he now?  Knitting words out of letters stirred by blinking.  Mummified in labyrinths of the next to next to last spoken and unspoken scripts tied into loops and sealed with saliva ready to pop with dehydration as they almost do and don't yet come to any conclusions wrapped in plastic blown about. Searching for broken fences to pass through and come upon upbraided by fences and their latest erections spraying compartments for minds getting smaller and tired of wondering.  Ever?  Ever?  Put a hand on a knee?  Canoes.  One canoe on a lake when there was a lake.  Where was she?  Where was he?  Where did it go?  Together or not so together on paths attempting to braid something along the way.  Upbraided.  That's all.  That's all there is.  Didn't go on very far only to go on and on.  


Dried leaves joining plastic blown about to the fences fenced in.  No clearance.  Dried leaves splitting and rustled uncover a thumb fleshy or rubber some one thing outside a closet not to be found not near.  Circling around it to see which crack in the space leaves it to circling around dried joining about fences fenced in.  No clearance.  Unclear how splitting and rustled they crack into circling around it take it up upon themselves itself blown about to the fences fenced in.  No closet to be found finding less restoratives just fences fenced in.  More fences needing space for circling around it take it up upon themselves putting it together circling around it splitting and rustled they back into it and circling around it take it up upon themselves rubber fleshy some one thing outside the closet the one once storing the last oar splitting and rustled they crack into circling around it taking it up upon themselves.  Where has she been?  Where was he?  Together upbraided along paths down twisting wrists knowing what they know for the next to next to last upbraiding.  She goes he goes goes she goes first or after him after her sharing another upbraiding circling around it taking it up upon themselves knowing what they know until they ask until then then all for that for all that it's lost in the circling around taking it up upon themselves eyes his and hers coming off with the force of the spin don't need to see where she has been where he is upbraided together in ever ever put a hand right on this until next to next to last escaping breath it has been for what waves do to her do to him circling around it taking it up upon themselves for another upbraided some one thing.




- Max Stoltenberg

RETURN TRIP

Checking.  Checking another box.  The box next to vacation.  The vacation that was ending.  Driving through the time and space between vacation and routine.  Back to it.  Turning around the corner of the mountain revealed back to it.  One hand on the wheel the other as far from the magnetic pull as possible got stiffer with discomfort until adjusting as much as adjustment was feasible.  


Fessing up was divided into quantified statements.  She read a poem to him in the car on the way back until nausea led to silence for a period interrupted by sounds of emptying.


Checking.  Checking another box.  The box next to ill.  They both of them couldn't think of the word.  It was not on the tip of the tongue.  More like the back.  Back to it.  Back of the part of the throat where it all backed up back to it.  Turning around the corner of the stomach the mind the stomach revealed back to it.  One thought on the next day the other as far from the magnetic pull as possible got stiffer with discomfort until adjusting as much as adjustment was feasible.  Not very feasible.


Emptying was divided up into smaller and smaller fragments.  Tangled limbs cloths absorbing mostly absorbing spots left to vanish mostly vanish left to smolder in the light.




- Max Stoltenberg

CROWD SPITE

Room of excess
Waste of space
Extra waste
Crushed in
Steady there here is it
Take a pen and stick it in the glass of wine
The pen the glass of wine


Swirling in the blood of the dark
No business of this all that
For all that channels air and dirt
Bouncing along necks break in folded pieces
Collapsing mirrors
Nothing re-emerges
But wait


Still
Wait
Kidding aside all stupid seriousness aside
Inside of the lungs burning with the pulse
Of something that calls itself someone
Large venus flytrap of a reproductive blossom
Opening onto an audience engulfed
Curtains


Was that so bad?
No business of this all that
For all that channels air and dirt
Bouncing along necks break in folded pieces
Collapsing mirrors
Nothing re-emerges
But wait


A little faster this time
Here it comes again
No
Not yet destined for the center stage
Of the abundant overflowing sewer
Settling down
Well trained for this all that
All that business
Denied 
Chiding mouths gnawing on the bark
Of the tree in the grass
Dying and transplanted
In the rocks
For all that channels air and dirt
Bouncing along necks break in folded pieces
Collapsing mirrors
Nothing re-emerges
But wait


Even faster now
No nothing re-emerges
All that business 
Denied denials
Confessions signing 
Double ply forms
Wiping that expressionless look
Of all that faces away
Away towards the ocean
Poured into the bottom of it
Here it comes again

No
Not yet destined for the center stage
Of the abundant and overflowing sewer
Settling down
Well trained for this all that
All that business
Denied 
Chiding mouths gnawing on the bark
Of the tree in the grass
Dying and transplanted
In the rocks
For all that channels air and dirt
Bouncing along necks break in folded pieces
Collapsing mirrors
Nothing re-emerges
But wait


Here it comes 
No nothing
Here it
just


waits




- Max Stoltenberg

DOWNLOADING

In the back
Not with anyone
But one
More minute
For dumping


Guessing
Nothing but guessing
All the time
So sure
So certain


Dumbfound at last


Per instructions
Per second
Squared
In the head
Form
Into corners
Sent by lifetime memberships


Copulating with the water
Under the bridge


She strolled out between films
Of budding yeast
Homegrown with alienated presence
Dress gathering a breeze
From the updraft of charming utensils
Cold moonbeam grins
Sizzling with chips and dip


She spreads branches
Onto the dead mountain
Running its gravity
Such majestic lament
Downward into the town
Tucked in the seam of breasts
Stitching humorless form
Into corners
Sent by lifetime memberships


Guessing
Nothing but guessing
All the time
So sure
So certain


Dumbfound at last


Veil
Face up
Eyes lifted up to the feet
Their toenails
Slicing off at the knuckles
What grips the floor
Letting go 
To fall
Impaled by the abyss




- Max Stoltenberg

DISORDERS OF OPERATIONS

Do tell.  How telling is it?  Fingers smell of acting of simulation of rehearsal after rehearsal.  Kitchen soap can't get it out.  Doesn't have it covered if it be told.  Do tell.  How telling is it?  Hands in the foreground up close and impersonal block the way ahead or make the way ahead a block peeled from a shattered watch handed down in a dusty and broken stream of unconscious hand-me-downs.  Things look up for hand-me-downs while hands are down for looking things up.  The ups and downs glaze the body in eye fluid for staring off into space funneled into depletedness.  The ups and downs have it covered in headstones throughout the cemeteries throughout the town block after impersonal block.  Do tell.  How telling is it?  


Metaphors and medication rack brains to recall the color the shape.  What is it for?  Back at the stain the spilled soda on a park bench taking the sitting down and standing up of visitors visiting across from the cemetery that wriggled along on all fours or on all sixes or eights or most of its segments.  Segments wormed over sediment in an underwhelming approach that was not considered Earth shattering.  The deteriorated worked their way on top of the conditioned and inexact.  Getting the most current dirt on the very grounded.


Dark dirt where is the water?  Haven't seen it where is the water?  Cattle lie down in puddles full of mostly their shit rather than water.  Time is dispensed in larger dosages time release capsules leaking out more life more slowly and here we are for more dread more bad news more ends to justify the meaningless that goes on and on there is no end just the taking away of moments that cannot be relished long enough only dosages of time between them that swell in inflammation.


Man: Better get to the doctor.
Woman: What is it now?
Man: It's not healing.
Woman: I find humming helps.
Man: Humming?
Woman: It creates a really nice buzz along with a warmth that or was it a ziploc bag filled with 6 inches of shortening and dipped into a bucket of ice water? No, realistically the same effect can be achieved with just a few tons of whale blubber.
Man: Why did I convince myself to listen and wait as if you would have something useful to say at the end of all that?
Woman: Because there's no point after all.
Man: That you have correct.
Woman: No point since we've broken away.
Man: I was beginning to put that out of my awareness.  Now thanks for reminding me.  
Woman: So you could go about your business of not healing?
Man: Damn straight ahead.
Woman: I don't know if we are.  Disasters send us in a direction I wouldn't describe as straight.  We can get very focused and concentrated except for the preoccupations of the every day.  All this while we're being sent off in some sharp angle so sharp with its quickly dissipating radius turning around the vacuous basin holding our neighborhood slowly settling and sinking into the cavernous chamber pot that awaits underneath until it churns and breaks up another grid to send more houses off to the edge of the impression where we might think we've reached a new plateau only to return back into the dry heaving wave pool as it casts and recasts us about unable to find the power switch.  
Man: I'm definitely not healing. I think the infection is spreading.
Woman: Forget what I said about humming.
Man: I had until you brought it up just now.
Woman: You should be glad I've stopped bringing up breakfast.
Man: I am. How's lunch doing?
Woman: It's having too much fun fucking around with my esophageal elevator, but it's feeling like it's eventually going to make for the rear exit soon.
Man: Your plumbing might finally be working again, but I don't think the house's is.
Woman: I could go out for alternative facilities but I don't think I'd be able to keep up with the trajectory of the house.  Plus the cemetery might overtake me.
Man: This might be an opportunity to practice your body surfing.
Woman: Since I opened the window and popped off the screen it hasn't slowed down, but I'm willing to give it a shot.
Man: Your nightgown might get caught on the sill.  I'd get an erotic view as you dropped unless knowing your luck you wedged between the house and the waves of earth.
Woman: My luck? When was the last time I was wedged nude between the house and ground?
Man: Just that sloppy spill you took last week that kind of makes me think of this situation.
Woman: There were three spills last week.  Which one are you referring to?  Anyway, what makes you think I would jump in my nightgown?  Don't answer that either.  
Man: I do also have my mind on the burgundy blouse, I really like that one.
Woman: I can't seem to get those annoying spots out.
Man: On the burgundy blouse?  Damn.  Damn it all.
Woman: Why are you shouting?
Man: Either the movement of the house is getting louder or faster or I thought a little more dramatic reading would be appropriate at this juncture especially with you offering to jump out the window.
Woman: Why would the house still be accelerating? Don't tell me you're going to put it down to dark energy.
Man: No, soon it'll be getting too dark to do anything and we'll have to wait for the morning so we can see more of what the dead have left us.
Woman: We might want to close the window so nothing grave will flood in.  I've getting tired of bailing foul earth.
Man: I flopped two dead bodies out earlier, I just remembered to tell you while you were barfing.  I figured they were sort of related.
Woman: It's more difficult to dignify or normalize anything nowadays.
Man: I admit I got behind on disposing of the bodies.  I get carried away reading some of the epitaphs even though they are rather pathetic.
Woman: We'd better move the bookcase.
Man: I'd settle for you trying on the broom skirt again.
Woman: The bookcase needs to be against the window to function as a barrier.
Man: To function as a barrier.
Woman: What?  Yes, function.
Man: I'm sorry.  I'm still trying to parse that one.  My mind must be rejecting that term.
Woman: Function.  Flustered.  Fucking.  Furious.
Man: I guess those are the next to go after all the vowels those long round vowels. No music.
Woman: Maybe I will try the broom skirt.
Man: It's getting too dark.
Woman: We could try both jumping out into the dark.
Man: Whether we're inside or out the Earth takes us on its back shaking us apart along the way and smashing us into each other.


Rollover turnover right side up. Back up and not for long.  Longer and longer between each foot ending back up on the ground.  Rollover turnover right side up.  Back up and not for long.  Longer and longer time release capsules stretching intervals between each step stepping out measuring what the dead roll over rolling over and the living turnover turning and turning the roundabout.




- Max Stoltenberg

LOGICS OF NUMB

Swallowing post-nasal drainage occupied the territories of most minds.  Stacks of empty notebooks under a blanket of lint a shroud of some sort fallen into a category or system of categories of sorts.  Let alone interruptions all alone with too much sorting distracting from a current that is stopped up by stacks of empty notebooks.  Brutal beasts of wisdom deceiving beginners with false starts and traps on treadmills surrounded by reflective hostility.  


Emptiness is circumvented by sentences that keep advancing towards the same old periods of black holes that loop back and forth between volumes of the lost.  Consecutive sentences restarted and revised cut and pasted consecutive concurrent sentences begin again with an accumulation of the ingredients of understanding laced with the roots of decay a hereditary grammar dubiously proceeding and receding occluded with detail the details that clings to socks and their fibers of missteps.  Nor nor that which implies and invests nor divests paper colored blank vocabulary disliked and ostracized.


Nor the mouse looking through the page worn by erasure nor the absence of insects replaced by the presence of slugs  holding the buttons down in failed attempts to close into privacy viewing setup menus searching for more channels where viruses spread propositional waste.  The mouse nor the slugs provide enough weight nor open measures to rest the outstretched out on a limb nor nor that which implies and invests nor divests paper colored blank vocabulary disliked and ostracized.  


Anorexic words retching over an abyss miniaturized into a fun-sized psychosis up and away through another discipline put in its place nor the corner nor center stage tumbling into the back row exhausted in the lobby unable to find the next showing late but will be excused to appear before the next tribunal's memo inciting another run through yet another run through.  Nor next nor last.  


An old couple that had died within a couple of days a couple of minutes of each other when they were younger before they first met on and off separating reuniting and separating their separate ways on and off nor replaced by the presence of slugs holding the buttons down in failed attempts to find their dream home only a dream only a home only a room in someone else's home in someone else's mind occupied with swallowing post-nasal drainage nor eating loaves of white bread with nothing on any slice whatsoever pinching to wake up not waking up pinching to wake up.  


An old couple that had died within a couple of days a couple of minutes of each other when they were younger is fast-forwarded to their last couple of days last couple of minutes rewound to before they met and lived on and off with each other dying within a couple of days a couple of minutes of each other they are still dead.  End tables surround stacks of empty notebooks devoid of the complete and filled with forgetfulness.  Driving toward mountains that never get any closer based on an adaptation from an unoriginal source denied by neighbors diagonally across from unrequited reciprocation.  Nor suppressing retaliation nor admitting nor admitting nor nor also nor nor.


Efforts at clarity have been meticulously knitted into the mesh wrinkled by the on and off which has evolved into the sporadic off and on and edited out by sentences gummed up on parallel treadmills in more locations unzipping flies on beaches nor beaches nor lakes concluding in one individual standing in the desert out on a limb outstretched for a job description adding lines and buffering the family from their presence replaced by the presence of slugs holding the buttons down in failed attempts concluding in one individual standing alongside others in the desert out on a limb rubbing elbows outstretched for job descriptions adding lines repaginating to the next sheet nor the mouse looking through the page worn by erasure adjacent to sentences advancing towards the same old periods of black holes that loop back and forth between volumes of the lost.




- Max Stoltenberg