automatic drawing w/desnos erasure

     A vampire 

            entered 

 

    its collar 

 

                      the rain      the beautiful days.

                                                                                                                            by h f w

my nurse maid

 

meret oppenheim, 1936

 

oldie but gooddie

 "if it can be done why do it?" - G.S.

http://textfiles.com/underconstruction/

bert meyers poem

Daybreak

 

Birds drip from the trees.

The moon's a little goat

over there on the hill;

dawn, as blue as her milk,

fills the sky's tin pail.

The air's so cold a gas station

glitters in an ice-cube.

The freeway hums like a pipe

when the water's on.

Streetlights turn off their dew.

The sun climbs down from a roof,

stops by a house and strikes

its long match on a wall,

takes out a ring of brass keys

and opens every door.

 

john cage's recipe for (valda's) green sauce

 taken from p. 84 of Empty Words, Writings '73-'78 

steven wright and paul williamson on the tonight show

steven wright:

1982 

1992

paul williamson:

1973

russell edson - how things are turning out

                                  

                How Things Are Turning Out (for Michael Cuddihy)

   A man registers some pigeons at a hotel. They fly up to their rooms. 

He's not sure that his mind doesn't fly with them . . .  

   He asks the desk clerk if everything seems all right. He would like to 

know if the smoke coming out of his cigarette is real, or something the 

management has had painted on the wall? 

   The desk clerk has turned his back and is sorting the mail. 

   Sir . . . , says the man. 

   But the desk clerk continues to arrange the mail. 

   Sir, would you look this way for a moment? 

   I can hear you, I'm just sorting the mail. 

   I wanted you to notice the smoke of my cigarette . . . Since the 

pigeons flew up to their rooms . . . You never know about the future, I 

mean how things will finally turn out . . . Please, could you check my 

smoke . . . ? 

   When the desk clerk turns his face is covered with hair, like the back 

of his head; and the front of his body is like the back of his body. 

   Where is your front? 

   My twin brother has the fronts; I was born with two backs . . . I 

always got the spankings . . .  But why regret the past? 

That's good philosophy . . . 

My best subject .  

 . . . Tell me, is everything turning out all right? 

So far so good . . .