party, part 2

illustrations by danny delacroix

paul had always been the life of the party he was quietlly upset when larry replaced him being replaced in this world is never fun suddenly all anybody could talk about was larry it was a time of reflection for paul it was not unheard of for someone to make a comeback from the deepest depths of violent despair but what, exactly , could he do? he had always expected a lot from himself even as a young partygoer just starting out he had zero tolerance dor mediocrity and absolutely no patience for excuses bring to on, he muttered to himself as we walked through the calamitous night maybe the dinosaurs couldn't come back but he expected more from himself first, he needed a plan the gods couldn't help him he had to be his own hero just then he looked down the street judy and louise were headed his way they had kind of sort of been his best friends they had partied until dawn long nights ago it was always midnight when they got together now as they approached on winged feet he felt was it was like to be on the outside paris and london and rome were far away and his tears flowed like quicksand in st louis

party, part 1

illustrations by konrad kraus

for morrison, the party came first he worked quintessentially behind the scenes he wrote and read endless reports he seldom emerged from the shadows his time would never come he understood that victory, however distant, was enough whether he would be there to see it exactly when he converted would be speculated on years later but no traces could be found of his alleged apostasy the bankruptcy of dreams is a constant of history but the dreams never die they evolve in the awakening of ectoplasm fortuitously a diary has been discovered and grudgingly admitted by haughtily sceptical experts into the endless investigation neither jury of his peers nor knightly champion can lightly dispel the monsoon of indifferent time nothing has been finally established and oblivion patiently awaits for the party itself to be consigned to the quicksandest of landfills

nothingness

illustrations by penmarq studios

nothingness is expensive especially on the outskirts of town the plutocrats gathered on the patio for a smoke but quicksand remained the best option ruthie mae watched from the window as the seance was held on the verandah her turtle was asleep as usual she wished she understood more about it violent emotions were unleashed when the forbidden subject was broached except this time there would be no next time and the young people looked away no one blamed the sunset although some thought it inappropriate she was still her mother's baby and the cat was never found the detective did not deliver on his promise everyone agreed she never really had a friend the grumpy old man next door stopped coming to the window have you ever been lonely? i know i have just thinking about it makes me sad kids these days - they just don't understand a dream of being a lion tamer is not the most propitious these days nothingness is forever and obsolescence weeps at the laundromat

2 found poems

poem found in a notebook stained with yellow mustard what is the sense happy happy birthday all the birds are sorry tomorrow will be kind i am so lonely sad and lonely and low-down ten years lost forever how can i ever find the time eternity is forever so is my sadness endless tears of white rainbows never reach the end sadness is forever edge of the earth is purple how will i ever find it apples grow in the islands handwritten poem found in a copy of my world of astrology by sydney omarr, purchased at a garage sale in burlingame, california * worse than anything that has gone before * i as no go fu the pogiz ded man - no way * no mo sef steam * when they got back to the hideout, they laughed their asses off * shine the light * everything is more real after it already happens * after the other side beat the shit out of him, he had trouble thinking and talking, and his own friends lost interest in him * he didn't mind the constipation - that was between him and god - bit not fitting into his uniform made him lose his self-esteem * almost thirty years old - and no war in sight! he wondered if he would ever join the hero's hall of fame * now that he was locked up, and would be talking to his interrogators instead of his victims, he would need a new vocabulary * he reached down, very tentatively, and pulled his prick out. it was small, even smaller than he had remembered * the guards weren't bad guys after you got to know them. they were all perverts too. *

mellow

illustrations by penmarq studios

mickey was mellow nick was nervous oliver was obstreperous parker was perverted they quietly surrounded the sleeping giant and reduced his resurrection to rubble silently sighing in bubbles of sarsaparilla they turned the terminal tables everything is under the frozen sea of fate waiting for the new improved version whitecaps crash in the twilight as assassins exuberantly exhale his youthful indiscretions were not admitted as evidence but nothing could save him from himself he shook his attorney's hand and bade his comrades farewell certain niceties had to be observed despite the lack of air-conditioning every ritual was excellently respected as the fire of idealism was extinguished the old gods were packed in ice and sawdust as the heat became unbearable a strange incandescence crackled on the horizon as the judge rode away on his red bicycle no knight in tarnished armor or lady's maid in rain drenched ostrich plumes e'er made so marvelous a masquerade as on that night at nature's own farewell

kindness

illustrations by penmarq studios

kindness is overrated love is nothing to write home about either make a note of it nobody knows the trouble i've seen outside in the distance a train whistle fades away perhaps you have heard of me i was quite well known back in the day but renown can be fleeting i am sorry about your loss of fame you may recover it tomorrow i don't pretend to understand these things variety is the spice of life where have all the flowers gone? they have been exposed to the winds youth will have its day his taking up zen was the last straw after hanging up the phone he broke down and wept confronting his checkered past he decided to file for bankruptcy he was never exonerated and continued to have fitful nightmares he grew a beard hoping to avoid the more extreme implications i heard all this from old bedworth a connoisseur of juicy scandal and the final knowledge of oblivion left us all breathless at victoria station