David Bowie’s Breakfast
November 15, 2008
Princess Clara’s Breakfast
November 15, 2008
Hello world!
November 11, 2008
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Miniature Tree of Envelopes
October 24, 2008
ah, i wish my saplings good luck -
my little tree of letters
next to my piss-pot
when it rains,
so it is fifty percent myself,
and the rest is
weather-water -
when an insect licks the back
of The Queen’s head,
on a stamp.
Tell my true love,
“I love you”;
a reader,
who unfolds the leaves
with less than
half a thumb.
peter and a paintbrush…
October 13, 2008
(1902-1903)
October 8, 2008
all of which…the spirit suggests
FOUND POEMS AFTER READING THIS
I.
The Orchard is still white,
the President is seven.
It was absurd for a man
of his standing,
sitting down,
to be the subject of
such spite
behind green shutters.
Even George Douglas Brown
would gossip with Countesses,
before mixing a great cocktail
of his jealousy,
for the Provost.
II.
Anchored one end of
the great slaughter,
the Dinwiddie Colored Quartet
asked what precisely
a Dinwiddie was,
for they had never seen one.
III.
A doughy man from Saxony
avoids the sun
like Edison.
A grim mystic from Danzig,
sleeps the Empire
through his head.
He has an elaborate toothache,
and spits three times,
on his left.
They talk through an interpreter;
he says
his grandfather never existed.
IV.
Okay,
that’s quite enough of this nonsense.
But do read the article.
If Your Space is MySpace, I’ll Sleep in the Wardrobe.
September 25, 2008
This is an old Surrealist game that might be as informative as surrealism can be:
SCOREBOARD
Rate the following:
(+20 = unreserved approval, 0 = utter indifference, -20 = total abomination)
Irrationality +14
Humour +20
Civilisation +17
Desire +19
Honesty +20
Religion +0
Madness -16
Logic -10
Happiness +20
Weakness-6
The Small Prince’s Reputation
August 29, 2008
the first part
of the national anthem
is:
“What a State we’re in!”
“O! Dear Land!
O! Dear!”
When the small prince
percieved
at his feet,
a sinking feeling,
because after all
he was in the kitchen…
the butt of all jokes,
he dare not enter the taverns,
he was,
at least,
everything but
only a prince.
II.
at which point,
a deer passed through his poem
with a look of disinterest
and an Adult Zebra Finch.
(oh, deer.)
The Small Prince Takes Pity on the Despised Bohemian.
August 26, 2008
The rumours that the small prince’s castle was spirited away by a blue-nosed gypsy in pink were exaggerated.
In fact, he wore that same pink cloak,
and chose certain paints that would discolour his nose,
and folded his castle,
as if it were cloth,
into egg shapes,
before running away with the gypsy…




















