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Filthy wrappers with one more bite
denied
Retreating into muddy shade
Old dogs too pained to sit
Empty streets looking over
at the muttering
Dropped reading eyes cracked words in the wrong place come up to poke complacent residual luggage in the feet little stiff feet. Old dogs make it into the house and settle on the marked carpet in pictures just pictures bent pictures. Dropped reading eyes cracked words in the wrong place come up to poke complacent residual luggage in the feet little stiff feet.
Nail clippers trimmers hit against the drain in the sink the drain in the tub the drain in the bathroom floor moving the shower curtain out onto the back porch sliding the cinder block wall open and closed crumbled bitterness. Stumbling onto shit in the muddy shade dark hidden corner nothing hidden only neglected. Toys muddy toys smelling like the sentence before. Empty streets looking over at the muttering spiked with the usual profanities found so readily so at the ready like perpetual vomit waiting impatiently on the runway of the tongue on the next thought whatever you said has been preempted by a preemptive vomit finishing with the feet of an action figure little feet little stiff feet. Little stiff feet line up outside inside the fence peeling the shower curtain cinder block wall away open and closed bitterness. Little stiff feet smelling like the sentences before.
- Max Stoltenberg
Unthreading the spiral bound notebook the wire worm from those arms armed with nothing but the spiral and the what else of the spiral.
Stop the music that music over there close the window and make a take a crack at it for the football tumbling along with the hop into another's one's own privates private parts making up just a patch sloppy patch job slipping down onto the ceiling.
That went longer than expected. Stop the music that music over that stop the music.
There.
There.
Music stopped and still echoing in the head plucking the nerves that stand up like the white poking things in the top of the dishwasher haven't emptied the dishwasher still steamy with notes not notes who could it possibly be the case the case made by that so called expert acting to divide and separate fine take the over there more over there with you to leave well enough over here over here with the dishwasher and the plastic containers is that what some strange looking flakes on the edges of the plastic containers plastic those plastic chairs of the first apartment before the house engulfing the two of us and the babies that first apartment with the plastic chairs all that was was all.
That went longer than expected. Apologies for the plastic chairs all that was all at the time that at that time was all.
That went not long enough more abbreviated than expected. Oh, what the fuck! Abbreviated is a sham of an insufferably diplomatic impostor of a word! Ripped out that moment that was the plastic chairs all that was all. Ripped out along with the babies and your skin was all that was all at that time that time.
That got closer than expected. Blood should pool in that part of the brain and souse those parts private parts for parts departing and of the departed. No more music or an ensemble of tornadoes devastating the neighborhood and brooming away the man and his clever ax with the handle rotted through that has spread into his arms threading the spiral bound notebook the wire worm throughout those arms armed with nothing but the spiral and the what else of the spiral.
That and this this that that has gotten closer and gone on longer than expected than the not long enough for those that no longer have have to put up with what has gone on longer than expected.
- Max Stoltenberg
Thumbs it's all in the thumbs when ensuring that thoughts slip out the back behind the eyes on the road. That's what it is, the road. The cheeseburger is long absorbed and a second's image issues its grease on the page and not all of the first has been absorbed as some sharp pains dart about abdominal walls spackling with vengeful slaps. Just wanted just wanted without too much trouble this car slowing down probably due to and there they are some pickup that eclipses the Sun. They don't melt in a solar flare where subsequent cheeseburgers erupt with the memory of a barbecue annihilated by the persuasive detour of a black pickup sinking into the searing arms thousands of miles long engulfing into the burning ocean screaming with strings those strings of death and crying out too late as it was too late as it was those strings that drowned her voice those strings and their sinking hopelessness that drowned her voice as well as her long dark hair briefly ever so briefly was aflame almost extinguished the strings until those strings all those strings as it was sawing her and severing and drowning and screaming with strings those strings of death and crying out too late as it was too late as it was those strings that drowned her voice as it was too late only then the desire to shatter the windshield and dive after as it was too late for cries as it was only death and all those strings playing the music of the consuming Sun in all its thousands of miles of blazing arms reduced to a caliginous spot where there is not even a burned or charred testimony to her silent face or even a corner just a dying star backing away from the cold below. Through windows they have their mouths twisting folding and can sense the tightening skin drawing this wheel to turn and force them into the bottom of a wash as their metal box makes pathetic attempts to turn to escape and tumbles as mouths open in terror open to receive glass for their ridiculous throats slashing their exclamations their threats rising desperate arms are caught and snapped in many places glass showers into the abyss of their voice buried their voice buried the voice underneath the coda the exposition the overture what expressions what hollowness at the wheel where thumbs it's all in the thumbs when ensuring that thoughts slip out the back behind the eyes on the road. That's what it is, the road. That's what it is thumbs it's all in the thumbs gripping the book at the wheel opened to the girl whose age is reduced and punctuated with a dull circle to spare her the death to still come later playing ball with the dog that ignores her and lays down in the corner no silent face of her not even a corner just a dying star backing away from the cold below. Spare her nothing everything reduced in age to spare her the death to still come later as she ignores as she runs away to circle around the shrinking dull circle toward the next death as they orbit about her in succession playing ball with the dog ignoring her she spilling the game of cards she runs off to play house with rooms filled with strings playing death to her voice as she sinks below the solar waves these thumbs these foolish eyes miss her disappearance underneath and cannot grip her silent face or even a corner only an indistinct spot removing itself from the cold below.
- Max Stoltenberg
How rice got on the brochure he was about to throw in the paper recycle was subject to change. On the subject of change it had nothing to do with the price of rice in the county by suspicion only residences put upon within the limits of their destinations. Changing the subject was easy only when the subject at hand changed hands and had nothing to do with being thrice swallowed and regurgitated beyond the skeptic's stream of piss.
Rifling through offers in the box the insert in the bottom right hand corner of the mailing splashed with darker reds and oranges than before stabbed the recognition with looking extraordinarily like his friend's dentist's sister the one with the golden blouse filled with meeting many criteria. Had someone alerted him of her death recently or not so recently. What a pillaging of the Earth, the death of women.
The silent darkness of the universe lowers its posterior analytics on the rim of the atmosphere. The maelstrom is set to cycle a heavy load that clings to the walls and holes of the cylindrical theater. The three of them once four previously six once nine before they were joined by one of their parents formerly in law enforcement until discovering horticulture's possibilities the abacus fell out of the fifth individual's hands as they took the back stairs and it tumbled noisily down to the next balcony below. This instigated a discussion of an indisputable aversion to entrepreneurship within the minds of most in the balcony above as posited by the embittered silhouettes who populated the balcony below.
Jalkratch: What possessed you to bring mashed potatoes?
Bornquilvokitiv: I didn't want to pay extra.
Addimen: Good thing no one caught you.
Bornquilvokitiv: I know someone in security who enlightened me in regards to their monitoring rotation schedule.
Jalkratch: Really? How can you stand cold mashed potatoes?
Bornquilvokitiv: Someone else I have become acquainted with in the ticket office told me there is a microwave in the back of the 4th balcony that's only on during the intermission or was it the second act, shit, I can't remember now.
Addimen: Wouldn't it be easier to just bring a sandwich?
Bornquilvokitiv: The only sandwiches I like have to include pork but there's been a trichinosis scare and I left my Mebendazol tablets at my apartment on the kitchen counter next to the electric can opener.
Jalkratch: I freakin' hate when that happens.
Bornquilvokitiv: Sure, mock me, but you'd be glad to have thought of bringing the mashed potatoes if you made the same oversight.
Addimen: What kind of drama have we committed to seeing tonight?
Jalkratch: Besides seeing to it what switches to flip in the dark to reheat leftovers I would say its a tragedy.
Bornquilvokitiv: Did you read the synopsis?
Addimen: He never reads the synopses. You should know that about him by now.
Bornquilvokitiv: Oh, that's right. I believe you mentioned that glancing at the synopsis is similar to peering into the dimness of an ultrasound for "neither have yet to enter the true harshness of reality from the comfortable fishbowls they inhabit."
Addimen: I beg to differ with you there, Jalmeister. The drunken sarcasm of my old man seems to go back into the infinite regress of my mother's placenta.
Jalkratch: Are we going to permit subjective examples such as that to be counted as refutation?
Bornquilvokitiv: It would work out nicely if they had the microwave in the rear of the 4th balcony on during the intermission so I wouldn't have to miss anything.
Addimen: What makes you think it's a tragedy? I heard the playwright continues to explore their penchant for humor.
Jalkratch: Tragic humor. Did you hear about that poor nurse who had her head taken off by that low flying plane this morning?
Bornquilvokitiv: Horrible. Are you trying to sabotage my appetite?
Addimen: Was the head completely destroyed or did it get sent into the side of the low income apartments downtown or the express bus that goes through there?
Jalkratch: I read that it actually was knocked into the park and landed by the fountain. Didn't even come to rest in the water. Just found laying there upside down in the mud next to the bricks with graffiti on them.
Addimen: Just not right.
Insert on the next page had a misspelling that many would consider quite embarrassing. Another place where a small group of people are having a deep laugh from down in the gut or coarse shrill words from high up in the neck and eyes that find it hard to remain in their sockets. Just another place where either of those things could happen as coarse words have their way with the water that makes up over 70% of those who commit misspelling errors in an overly frequent percentage of the time the water stirred into a maelstrom that cycles a heavy load a heavy load of the lightheaded and heavy shouldered.
Addimen: What possessed you to invite all of us after all?
Bornquilvokitiv: Possessed. There you go using that word as well. Possessed. What if I asked you what possessed you to use the word "possessed" like Jalmeister?
Addimen: I'd probably answer because I like the word or I felt like it or possess captures what I am trying to say.
Bornquilvokitiv: There you would be right on the money so to speak. Possess not only captures what you are trying to say, but what I would think and utter in response. I've lost not only my appetite for my mashed potatoes, but staying here to sit here in this theater being asked what possesses me. It's like trying to drive down the street of this miserable town or any other town for that matter. I can either stay in the lane I'm in or change lanes or drive off onto the shoulder. If I try really hard to convince myself to stay on some kind of course or see the whole thing as a sham and want to fuck the whole thing I'm asked what possesses me either way? Synopsis or ultrasound possessed with life. Can't purge oneself of it. Remaining in one's bed with the festering thoughts of what waits outside or smashing through a guardrail leads to the day after day recovery possessed with life as it mutates and grows more deformed screeching along the guardrail with its protective metal of the machine moving you along the gears from one part of the conveyance to the next prolonged by more guardrails screeching along to the next part of the conveyance to the next prolonged.
- Max Stoltenberg
You and you and and them by and by sour milk crackers within fists knuckling under. Trees out of focus forests sharpened and people and their hair styles of misfortune knitting the meadows dead meadows exhuming failures sprinkled with the same old shit syndicated jungles digitally graded and upgraded uploaded up the shoot followed by an entourage of receipts. Tea parties for the extinct packed with invisible friends.
(Invisible friends).
Null: Who said that?
Void: Haven't you been listening?
Null: The historiograph needle?
Void: What?
Null: Go ahead build up the question.
Void: Build it up how?
Null: Don't veer off on that one or you won't be able to enjoy another meal especially if it involves pasta and the flamboyant red sauce.
Void: Flamboyant?
Null: We bottom out in the basin of pointlessness once again.
Void: What kind of vehicle have we been about in?
Null: About where?
Void: Out and about?
Null: You're being rather roundabout when it comes around to approximating this business of roughly getting a handle on the notion applied to the approach and its methodology when it comes to determining exactly the nature of the discussion we have been on about.
Void: And just when does it come around to it?
Null: About now?
Void: And about when is about now?
Null: Well, about some time around further back.
(Divisible friends share their traumas and admire each other's most current prosthetic).
Void: About how far back before now?
Null: It's a little difficult to pin down right now.
Void: Of course it is or was, we're not speaking about right now.
Null: No, but we're trying to presently establish how far into the past we need to go.
Void: Was it around when we were trading anecdotes about imaginary friends?
Null: Fairly close. It was either before or after those.
Null: No bull's eye.
Void: I was about to say that.
Void: Imaginary friends vanish in a pinch.
Null: Just about the area that I was considering bringing us back to.
Null: I'd like to speak for myself if you don't mind at least not too much.
Void: Why mind whether I mind when you speak for yourself and for me and by the way you don't speak for me when you speak for me.
Null: Tickling makes little difference when she's dead.
Void: Not this again.
Null: The possibilities haven't all been exhausted.
Void: Possibilities? She's dead.
Void: What else is there?
Null: There you go again speaking for me.
Void: To discuss.
Null: Don't go on.
Void: No, I was just finishing. What else is there was incomplete. I was going to say what else is there to discuss? I hadn't completed my thought. Something I can't seem to do even when I'm alone.
Null: Do your imaginary friends finish them for you?
Void: No, they used to go off on their own tangents.
Null: I must say that's creative of you.
(Immutable friends. They're all set. Set in stone. Their ways have been sculpted by hands of stone. Their ways are their ways. What chiselers).
Void: No, it was rather clever of them.
Null: Have they become less creative as they aged or you actually began to think about maturity and they became less cogent and started on their way to dissolving?
Void: No, these were actual imaginary friends.
Null: As opposed to virtual imaginary friends?
Void: You can be opposed to whatever floats your excrement.
Null: Now that's below the belt, old bean.
Void: You're only accurate in terms of the bean part. I didn't have any imaginary friends. I only had friends who were imaginary. Once I called them on what they were doing they exited and were no more. The kind of people I tend to encounter seem so eager to spend great quantities of time investing their creativity in ways to construct and execute more subtle innovations in disingenuity. Always behind now. Can't tell if I'm getting slower or they're getting more innovative. It can't be. Tell me, lie to me, that it can't be. What have they done to innovation? What have they done to relationships? Maybe it was never there. Always behind now. Just like you put it earlier about it being about now. It can never be now. Everything gets flushed down into the sewer of the past. They can orient all they want and all they are doing is trying to use another cleverness to perfume the growing stench of the future. Immune deficiencies are sorely underrated.
Void: I'm sorry when you started talking it made me realize that in reality it goes back to when I was telling you that story about the conversation between the formal logic teacher and the informal logic teacher.
Null: Modes and statements adorn their arguments?
Void: Not at all, you obviously were somewhere else. The formal logic teacher explored how he tried to divert the faculty's attention away from his heroin usage and the informal logic teacher was obsessed with how to identify the warning signs of an exploding artery.
Null: I wish I could take myself somewhere else in the midst of this cesspool we call discourse.
Void: Before I forget, there were eight illusions court ordered to attend a 12-week reality therapy group. One of them was a prick who confronted all of them toward the beginning of the first meeting by saying, "You're all full of shit!"
Null: Who said that?
Void: Haven't you been listening?
Null: The historiograph needle?
Void: What?
Null: Go ahead build up the question.
Void: Build it up how?
Risible friends shopping and consuming the latest stuff that no longer fertilizes the ground but gets more efficient in siphoning both potential and the darker roots of retribution so thick and rich so clever and innovative where quantity masquerades as quality in the underhanded dialectic of betrayal. Faces don't matter, about faces even less. Identities are emptied from one side to the other. Down the drain on one and backed up to reappear on the other. They show, they tell, belching with a surplus that decays into lies. Tell them, show them, lie to them, their eyes open and close as these lids grow heavier. Faces don't matter, about faces even less.
- Max Stoltenberg
Getting across the kitchen floor can be a challenge can be a car that can't hold its fluids can be a door left open letting in flies and moths bigger than usual moths can't capture the moths there is one on each wall now they just sit there refusing to make room for any more pictures knocking down the pictures that were there knocking recollections what did you have to go and do that for? Getting across the kitchen floor can be a challenge can be a car that can't hold its fluids can be a door left open letting in flies and moths bigger than usual the pets stay in the back others stay in the back don't know how some of them got in when the moths came they couldn't get out that must be it must be the reason this is the usual of the moths bigger than usual this is the usual now.
Getting across getting things across people wasting more time watching nothing outside the moths only watching the patterns on the moths those patterns don't like it when one of them starts to move keeping things still in this still life like still life even though it really isn't this still life will do just focus learned to focus on the patterns on the wings can almost see something some things between the lines until the fucking thing moves keeping things still is more like it more like still life in this still life so real its unreal or so unreal its real really by now really by now by the other flying things used to have pictures of that stayed out away chose to fly over other elsewheres so open beyond the kitchen floor that could be a car that can't hold its fluids can't keep them in keep them still don't upset them to remain still and pleased in this still life still something like life still remaining in place this place as it becomes more like a fading picture as the moths knock the pictures that remain so much for remaining.
Hassles wet the brushes used to paint the latest peeling walls in the back where depressed humor holds up the peeling patterns focusing learned to focus on the patterns on their wings eyes haze over as what is thought to be between the lines vanishes with the pictures knocked from the walls trips shattered can't reach for the torn paper once behind glass they start to move not trying to upset them keeping them still in this still what's the use life.
Stay in the back talk of this later put the drawer back angry words of applying an old wooden drawer emptied of old sweaters and failed financial endeavors to the back of one of the moths always sounds better when you use that loud deep voice until it rises in deliriousness and you approach slowly and drag your stinking feet until you lay the drawer down next to the others on the kitchen table where the last boardgame with its missing pieces and unreadable fortune cards lies untouched for another year another year of this this still life still life getting across the kitchen can be a challenge can be a car that can't hold its fluids can be a door left open letting in flies and moths bigger than usual usually still sometimes moving don't upset them keeping them still is still life in this still still life until they knock something else down another place once thought of in thoughts of escape only escape in thoughts until they move getting tired of when they move knocking down another place another attempt not many attempts left in this place of patterns stared at watched between movements that threaten that unsettle keeping them pleased staying in the back out of sight out of mind out of the mind filled with patterns.
- Max Stoltenberg
Going to
where?
Going to start
Filaments in a disease
Nothing fortunate
about this
Putrid swamp
Congestive thoughts
Neurological paths suddenly open up
And there's
nothing there
Closing with
starting back up
or down
Got that word that begins
with the same letter
always the same letter
same letter
undeliverable
Toes sticking out from
under the bed
not the cat's
something the large bugs
that invade the domicile
are still munching on
slow scum
Check both feet
some toes reappear
like parts of sentences
missed
Going to
where?
Going to start
Filaments in a disease
Nothing fortunate
about this
like parts of sentences
missed
- Max Stoltenberg
