change frightens. not our choice.

everyday is strange. everything we say is cliche. confused. in a violent trance. 

evil looks familiar. we are drawn by it.

for roberto juarroz

for louise gluck, how to produce an umlaut.

for wg sebald

getting noogy wid a

for chance the ghost

give it back goddammit

grounded in da globlues

with a hip and a hippedy hop

haunted eyes, look away

i been solving crises since 1959 goddam i can fuggin hang it.

and now i can tell you apart you are long gone

i fail, crop

i fail.

i get angry when i get scared when i get hate

oh, honey, if i could just start life over.

moot question of choice. the money gone crush us all to death.

never ever change again

planet illing

opossum water

poverty at work for fierce capital

stifle the shit rulers

yes i would agree the clear moments are getting further apart thanks to improvident non-locality and addled loneliness.

yet the need to be alone is too great.

the pain swallowed the pleasure and blossomed.

no this is not quite right. 

through all our lives a hole

very very sorry and thanks

another visit to possum furballoon

we love addicts

or we try, not to get addicted, to care, for something else

what if we could return to a period of life where we were harmed, and undo the harm. that's where we go. the master

                                                                                                                                                          but the harm goes on...