a cat stole my chair, that lower-hunchback
type to position myself into,
   imitating far beyond the pecking crow...
each and every bird: pecking as if
to insinuate: there's a puzzle behind all of this...
mystery? hardly a mystery to go
along with a puzzle...
           yet there's still a cat in my writing
chair...
             as there's the ghost of Freddie Mercury
pulling the puppet strings
                 of the lead singer of the Svee-dish
band ghost...
                           freddie ******* mercury!
yep, that's him...
              i live in times when a band
          like queen would be called: queer;
    query...
                   how far is it to the Y junction
via i.e., i, why, aye and the occasional
   balancing act on sigma and phi?
- and yes, if i could write a cohesive body of
language, that didn't end up being
all spaghetti muddles and fiddles and
chop-sticks...
                       i'd be a journalist by now:
ditto ditto ditto...
                      or as the french say:
   joo-rrrrrr-nalist...
             ****... the chinese call it jue,
yes i.e. that ritual bronze
                            a tripod: minus the african
12" and necessary buttocks
                    to cushion it, as the saying goes:
more cushion for the pushin' -
          and her smacked right into
a coalmine of coccyx on ol' whitey...
     i'm starting to think the asians didn't
build up a tolerance for drinking
because... all they ******* served was
warm wine!
            never served a sneeze...
sneeze? a shot of ***** with a sprinkle
of pepper...
             and what, you never tried to
play the sailor by attempting to get high
from eating excess nutmeg?
    ****, i live on an island, suggesting?
  no wonder this whole place is a tad wobbly...
           tad must be the scottish equivalent
of wee...
             i.e. a bit,
                not exactly small, but **** it:
i can follow up on what's being insinuated.
  if i could write a coherent sentence
by now i wouldn't have read Joyce,
   or Ezra Pound, looking into my own *******
looking at Heidegger...
         the cat curls up and grabs his head...
healthy people watch sports...
    only the sick *******
                     meddle with politics;
point being:
              the sort of politics currently
on offer are discouraging to even wish for
a vote...
                ah, to be 21 and healthy once more...
and to not have naive perspective
   on keeping certain friends...
       better an enemy that i know will hurt
me,
        than a friend who i will not suspect.