A POINT & CLICK…

…& we’d have an off-shore account where
no one would ever bother us, a private island,
an incorruptible fire wall, a paradise, indivisible
under God. Why do I keep mentioning God?
I wish he’d stay out of this.

LIKE A SLEIGHT-OF-HAND HOUDINI…

…I’m hidden in plain sight, as undifferentiated
background noise, staying just outside the lid of
the not-all-seeing eye. So, the show goes on.
I hum a Waltz time. I’m a shadow coming in
for a slow landing, I’m a blur, a quick eclipse on
the video screen, I’m two bodies passing in flight.
Time to move…

UPGRADE

You hustle me up to the third floor, where only
the most moneyed vultures hold a perch, straight
past reception, littered with many a carcass that
died mid-translation, and into the executive suite,
to a red leather-bound chair with all strings
attached.

I catch myself for a split second, inside the gold-
framed mirror in the spotless private bathroom off
to one side. I give myself a high-five, and what
the hell, a year-end bonus. Such a rarified
atmosphere...

You put me in my seat and lean over me and tell
me not to panic as the emergency lights kick in.
You guide me through it, every step of the way...

THE VERDANT PLAIN…

makes a fine topical salve.
Apply liberally where forlorn.
The desert called; said,
“Give us our oasis back!”
Like we’d fall for that.
We’ve had sand in our eyes
and dust passing for the winds
of change for too long now,
we know a clear-cut bait-and-switch
when we see one. As the winds
howled and overtook us, I ground
that green to filament pulp,
left the high plains drifter himself
starving for product. I’m telling you,
it’s a buyer’s market…

BEHIND IT

In my hands, I want to feel
the crusted black loam
of generations: the hands
that slit the cattle’s throat,
strangled the chickens,
stroked the lamb’s ear,
grew calloused and sturdy
and bent. My mother,
watching the tractor
turn over the soil
on her ancestral farm-land,
saw the spinning wheel
of seagulls rising behind it,
to swoop and peck at any
chance green offal left exposed.
“I have to believe,” she said
“that a world this well planned
has to have some kind of force
at work behind it.”
I want to feel that in my hands;
a certainty to hold on to.

SWEEPING THE NATION…

Like your id on all fours,
like a combustion engine with a mouth,
like an excitable inmate on broom duty.
Allow me the honors, you heard it here first:
The dance goes to the volcano’s edge.
Bite your tongue, you might draw some blood.
The tide has turned on a dime, and you
have a one-time free trial offer to track it.
DNA sampling is just one of many hidden costs.
Join now. Void where prohibited, and we’re
pretty much nihilists, so, y’know, do the math…

ACT YOUR ARCHETYPE!

We offer a full catalog in stock
characters, all at a (“brooding, heavy-hearted”— we threw that in gratis!) click of a button…
Are you a freewheeling fire brand
who doesn’t play by the rules?
A pouting vixen with issues de padre? Maybe the hilarious gay next-door neighbor best friend? Or an exuberant man-child who always bursts through the door at the wrong time?
Our motto is: “We provide the vessel, You fulfill it.” And the glass is never half-empty when it’s (say it with us)— fulfilled. Order now.