Fellow Inmate,

I am writing to you from an adjacent cubicle not more than 15 x 15. Wearing the same shift I fell asleep in last night. Never thinking of clothes. Sometimes I gaze out my window past the dark cedar of my enclosure. Or look up from my reading. It’s 73 and never varies more than 10 degrees. Today it’s primordial and foggy white, with a shadowy outline of trees. In the distance a cow bell and groan. The surround is innocence. A parade led by a speckled hen with her pulsing chorus of chicks ends with a sunset and a dream perhaps of stringing strange and beautiful beads.

I’m getting a hazmat respirator from Amazon.

To deconstruct a coniferous anti-mulch pile I piled originally to demote weeds. For the leak here. Thru the ooze of black mold. Instant sinusitis for the immunity challenged. And it’s already back to bed and my convalescence.

With never ending rain this week the leak somewhere trickling in the garden. Underneath a pile of papers the water bill wallop 2X 3X 4X. Feeding the jungle along the line to the house from the street. Logic might promote searching below the most buoyant growth. But I’m about as inclined to dig a trench as use a diving rod to uproot this moist gurgle of spillage.

A guy definitely buried these pipes. And my design isn’t that of my counterpart. Winning competitions on SURVIVOR. Combatants who think geckos bring good fortune. Don’t dust my roach population. A shit out entire linage decimated by carnivorous left over dinosaur men. Who extrude MINE_UTE white stripe logs that desiccate. Leaving a snow FLAK-E ash of shit, infesting the reality of everything.

Running a maze. Into a ravine and suddenly flooded back; a fractured apartment complex. The kaleidoscopic concrete infrastructure architect MC ESCHER? A turnstile dam obstacle course and I’m not a fan of steampunk or meth assemblage. Even if my most authentic self had the muscle to hammer A permaculture of my own insurrection.

I dream of cats

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Verdant marble
pink nosed
dead cats
with their tongues out
Sphinx all American 
and Siamese.
Someday there will only be cats.
Every projection white whiskers.
Grey hair
in the light room now
with the sofas and a pagoda.
Asleep curled around the cat
turning into me and I into her
napped, in the hammock
near a turned stupa
in the great golden outdoor studio.

J. Pompei

DR GURU is a certifiable

Broke IN

PHD
he’s more pimp
guiding my head immediately
to his shaft
transference
practice for John’s
that gag reflex
a definite fixation on my lab work
a fetish for insurance
form
mirror work at the bar
practice means repetition
floor to ceiling embossed
frames my mouth just another
to flex and reflect
he’s filled me full throated
calling it a slight adjustment twisted
forced to gaze again
at his peacock garden
rock rivers and pink flamingo
kisses
then back to the grand obelisk of recognition
where there is no room
for a wall even
I’m am pressed to share
and juggle his balls simultaneously
while swallowing spit
all of it a yawn
he’s bored
tells me I’m special
but couldn’t recap
from his pretense of copious notes
he licks his fingers
I wait
all for him
in the end
of my session
the RX simple with an edging of irritation
to go to the ocean
open my gullet
and scream

broke IN

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I sort of liked him slender not much taller than me, twitchy. Black straggly hair. Shirt buttoned up mother picked. But I was hiding and the phone wouldn’t stop. Loud and I picked it up to shut it up. I could hear voices and depressed the off to conceal any reception. Then shut the door for further insulation. Looked at the ceiling. Waited then crawled back on my belly to the door. Cracked it to make sure he wasn’t still outside of the sliding glass. I could see him. He was inside. On the floor in the living room. Asleep waiting for me to return.

Hare List Double Checked

TAPED - 1He’s picking weeds again, but not the reams attacking our raised bed, our food. So to express myself, I took the heaviest spade I could find AND a running start and made a lasso motion to blow out his hair.

He startled and ran like a girl forgetting the decade ago how he got drunk and choked me. Or locked me out of the house to sleep in my car. Taking my G4 tower and shattering the passenger window so I would have no shelter. It was sorta funny.

But I’m no Joan Burroughs
pose with honey crisp scalp
snapped with forgiveness

Daesh men are the hottest.

 

Have I told you  I’m not opposed to Sharia Law entirely? Only the inequity of men not being covered up. THEY turn me on and I find myself uncontrollably tempted to rape their mouths with my broomstick.

Did I show you my new hat? Where else but from the Amazon.

For extra coverage it keeps away mosquitos and is good for fishing.

 

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Hirsute

jewel weed
even stamens wilt
their filaments
recoil
only the rain comes
I’ve tried
 to
unzip
 my rubber
wetsuit
remove the gag
let myself be towed
when I want to wade out
the frigid current
will carry
 this twine
and plait our hair
weaving us
 eventually
into a seaweed garland

hirsuit 1.0