another day in the kenoma

How can I escape? My new years resolutions were complicated and discussed over a drink with M in the wonderful location of Portland (the other one). But the simple online version of it will be that I resolve to truly look inward. I've been trying to get into the basement with a flashlight and all that for a minute now but I reckon within the last year, or past decade or past 28 years of my life I've gotten a better handle on how exactly it is I might do that, and how exactly the pleroma or your mom or however else you might like to refer to that "thing" might stare back at me if I stare into it long enough, which is called meditation. I haven't quite worked up the nerve, as usual, to out and out meditate, but I think I know how to do it, and I suppose I am, even though I haven't paid David Lynch his TM money yet, and don't know if I ever will because I learned how to bounce in kindergarten.

Brief encounters with beauty

A woman knocks on the door and leaves a package. The return address marks from South America, despite the smudges. As you stoop to grasp the thin, manila package from between the screen and the door, you see the woman turn the corner at the end of the block. Her outfit defies that of a postal carrier. The tail of her golden jacket flaps behind her as if waving, beckoning.

You squint your eyes from the doorway before retreating back into the warmth of your home. You drop into a chair at the kitchen table, curiosity brewing quickly. You don’t recognize the handwriting on the package; yet, you feel a familiarity with the stamped-over postage, the stripes indicating airmail, the ragged wear on the envelope’s corners. You suddenly stand in line at the post in San Jose, the sickly smell of rosey disinfectant and the clacking echo of register keys engulfing you. Your mild fear and repressed anxiety make their way out in the stammer your accented voice carries to the clerk. --Tengo una caja de cac - em - feces de perros para enviar a un laboratoria de investigacion en los estados unidos. Em - esta con - em - hielo.-- You are met with a cold stare.

The adhesive closure tatters away from the folder pocket enticingly. A quick tug and the strings of gum stretch loose. A cascade of butterflies, golden and blue in shimmering hues, swarms from the package, tickling the air around your startled face and rearing head. The fluttering entity finds a crack in the window screen making it’s graceful escape. As you breathe a grateful gasp of surprise, a single sheet of rose-colored paper slips out of the manila, landing slippery onto the oak table. --Que las embras se reunan con las hijas de la sierra; que los machos busquen su remedio en el subsuelo de la tierra.--

new album!

writing a new clk record! hopefully it will be ready soon! have a great 2018 everybody!

f_ck a farm

calf in quiet cold
wombless aches in bones & blood
frozen meets the morn
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art in making fire
moods like air vents open / close
alchemy breathing
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piglets squeal surreal
corn meal mud poop - goop rampage
new life carries pain