fictions as clover

the fictions as cover. Posted by Hello


wheN Felix

when Felix came home that night he'd become a cat and his lover left him. she was catatonic like all good alcoholics she abandonded him. what's new, she was afeared to abandon, so she did it first. good for her. Knowing without a spot of doubt in his head, it was Deleuze t hat always won out he didnt give a damn about the letters.

now she was one and two for reading
when it suited her sensitive fancy

Mona laughed her skirts off
knowing every walker was a talker
not walking the walk
but balking
at the top

like a sun bather
a topless bikini beach hag

burned with the middle class blues
and the
meddlesomeness of all that that entailed
a broken piece of I feel sorry for yourself
point of view

Mona sniffed this when belly full of
bleary eyed sentiment was her choice word
of weeping weeping

at her age too, imagine

When Felix saw that he knew a neurotic alcoholic
cheap talk couldn't last
the resonance was too too strong
she said to him in Session 3

blaming him
for his beauty

abandoning him
for his strength and beauty
blaming his for his beauty
jealously guarding her
self pity and prozac
and pills


one thou_Sand

Yes memoirs of a geologist a poet a raconteur __

in the assemblage of the disyllable in the memory of
in the face of her so it was the wake stand in the fish of the satanic tectonic thrust and your body crumble bones brittle on the package sound and Mona said she was many of her miles into my organs along the plane of her face

I held her elf like against the principle of Egyptian night and day and the words and days of night was the prince of

pieces infinite catatonia in the helpless perjury of her roupy voice so sexed was she orphan driver of the unconscious atheist god __
so it was

1987 and the blues were on her thousand year to heaven and the mighty numbers of food banks and the prepatory stance of dying

My Plateaus and Yours ___ Posted by Hello

she knew t'was something like her ass that cradled the lawn where his balance bowl met her pelvis over each decade that watered the lawn of her lair
she was beside Prof. Jill my mother the clown
Puff puff puff Franny cried we are almost finished

in our denizen dawn

more to hurray after in the Midnight goddess of atheism and its intents

a Thousand Plateaus

beside a thousand faces of word __