1. It all began with good intentions.
2. "I confess.. . I put the envelope under the half-ton of garbage."*
3. shafts of sunlight
4. "Every story ought to have a beginning, middle and end. Not
necessarily in that order."
5. eye on a metronome
6. After all the best-laid plans. . .
7. I sensed the approach of something sinister. Whirls of light in the
cloud, cloud in the light. Hum of insects. A beating drum? I thought
it was time to lay in non-perishables, fresh water. Most of the
available stores nearby had been reduced to puddles. Very few discern-
ible consumer options. Neighbours huddled in a dry goods establishment
for warmth. There were rising tides of wet: in the streets, overbrim-
ming the clouds, shafts of sunlight in the cloud, rain out of thunder-
heads like eyelashes. Blinks and the sky's beneath your feet. Treading
through cirrus. The streetlamps, under pressure of heat, developed
improbable curves. Some kissed asphalt. You whispered:
8. eyes that last
9. Covert operations: a plan to reprograph all extant patterns with
onionskin tracings. All extant patterns? "Boss, this could take all
night." "Take all morning too if you need to." Traces made on skin with
onion. They should pay us overtime. They should pay us. Some protested
but most preferred ease and a quiet life 'til they disappeared and did
I disappear? I haven't been myself have you? I haven't been all there.
10. schemes were revealed but after the clearing of so much debris
11. Guns going off. A distant howl. Reports of hurricane force newsprint
and electronic media. Love songs were written out on vellum and cast to
the winds. Above the earth, beneath the sky or vice versa. They may
have been absorbed by parallel universes. Rent frame and axis (axes)?
you can't . . . a dangling cord
12. exhaust fumes prevalance of vomit dissouljoined a letter to the
editor bristling with moody pepper, foul vapours
13. curds and whey (no way)
14. I wondered if this was the best time to complete my art studies.
The only available part-time work was in the secret service. Open
service had become a thing unknown, either that or it happened in
sections of the city that were cordoned off. That were blue plated,
snack plated, license plated. Every plate in the city had a license.
Whose sandwich is that? They should have paid us more. They should have
paid us. Part-time duties soon became irreconcilable there was a
persistent hum
15. there was a persistent hum
16. An echo.
17. And a partridge in a pear tree. Who's bloody kidding who? Skies
beneath your feet. Printed matter on the skies. Toadstools, fecal,
disgusting. Thunderheads plunderheads dunderheads wunderkinds wonder
where it's heading. Bearing East by North East. Peculiar direction.
Antique compass. On towers of shattered glass, shafts of sunlight.
There is something here I don't understand.
18. A persistent echo. Dirt under nails, slivers under nails, dripping
water. The last message from humpty dumpty kept breaking up. Feasibil-
ity studies: colonization of nursery rhymes, fairy tales, naturaliz-
ation of their citizens? I was awash in conjecture, frightening pros-
pects, dim corridors
19. dim corridors, a persistent echo
20. The anthill was perhaps an ill-chosen model. Ants deal poorly with
change and nothing was changing round us faster than change itself.
21. Transmissions from the North Pole. Tropical regions. Hat bands
waist bands army bands wrist bands identity bracelets bands of gypsies.
The tea was tepid and so was your face
22. your face. A persistent echo.
23. It became increasingly unclear to me what we intended to accomplish.
Clocking the hours. There were tasks:
24. Semiotic origami. Perverse geometric linedancing. Transgressive
mathematics. Cannibalism considered as one of the fine arts. Relative
stew. Transmissions from one universe to another in a code neither
understood. Who was kidding who? How could a whole universe not under-
stand a code? a whole street is one thing. . . a Natural History of Go,
Golf and Polo. . . university tenure. . . preverb conjugation what a
world! Physics of persistent ambiguity. Tailspin and jet exhaust. Jets
collapsing into universes of papier mache. A machete in the hand is
worth two in the bush. Fright and hunger considered as performance art.
Howling wind shafts of sunlight over broken pieces of a column bleeding
glass. Ringing ears ringing bells ringing fingers. Live rats as
transmitters and transformers. Gaily dancing fleas. Sky beneath our
feet, jet exhaust or smoke wreathing our ankles. It all began with
good intentions. . .
25. The situation grew dramatically less clear.
* Arlo Guthrie, Alice's Restaurant
