******, another day of slow internet access...
feels like the late 1990s,
or early 2000s with the dial-up modem...
just around the time when
internet videos were not big...
                ******, ******, ****** all day...
just expecting my regular fix
of information,
             and all those metaphors for
   ***** syringes -
                ****** as someone else's thinking...
attempting a head-stand on a tight-rope
in some, very, familiar, circus...
three ms. ambers down:
   oh... so the music videos allow me to
bypass this... "debacle": cool cool,
strapped in, ready to go...
        just today,
   under the matrix -esque skies of england...
i smoked my first cigarette
and watch a pair of robins sit on
my neighbour's fence...
     aww... so pwetty pwetty...
       also nice...
                to spot a pair of robins...
and not the standard bearers of bird-watching
in your garden that are composed
of sparrow...
       all that orange: in the right place...
a bit like:
   that myth of the page 3 tabloid
the sun, glued to something beyond
a cleavage...
           cleavage... hmm...
that's the difference between cleavage
and the grand canyon of a ***?
cue soundtrack: the gardener
                          by marylin manson...
i never felt more alive...
      digging that hole...
              almost all of a reality of life
can be experienced in an english garden
in outer-suburbia...
   30 minutes... you might chance
deer, you'll certainly spot a fox...
   audacious manifesto...
     sometimes... even a rat...
   scuttling along,
   hush hush politics...
   as i imagine...
                                    animal farm:
who would the rats be?
  don't know why i never came around
reading anything by
roald dahl - or j. r. r. tolkien
for that matter...
    to have to "short-cut" my way
into the heavier literature exploits...
   so i dag, and dag,
shovel and fork in hand,
interchanging,
   until i managed to reach
a geology amateur fetish...
    ah... the foundation of London...
clay...
         dig deep enough,
past the garden earth layer,
you hit the clay...
             half a meter deep,
then the load...
              ***** must have weighed
around 50kg
     in her nursery package...
      moved her from the patio
into the vicinity of the dug hole...
via a pagoda...
                            broke my back...
broke a sweat...
             but i managed to plant her...
as i managed to plant
that plum tree 3 years ago...
    and as i lodged her in,
i whispered a shamanic fare-you-well
to her...
   'she's in good company,
of course she's going to bloom,
           bloom and produce cherries'...
clearly i underestimate my weakness...
or, rather,
              i play the salamander -
while back on the internet...
               a movie review by
black pilled about pawnbroker...
so it must be spring,
or at least: spring on the edge...
    so much for the robins,
and as much about plating a cherry
tree in an english garden...
            tended to by some ******...
it's like a snap-shot
of a memory,
carrying mineral felt
        on a construction site...
around 30kg rolls like i might carry
an anorexic unfathomability of a woman...
sooner or later the swallows
will return,
     and all in all...
the eeries, a sensation:
   so bird is part lizard...
    it's a lizard in a disguise of a mammal...
and... of all the creatures...
birds,
    are the most elevated,
in terms of ****** affairs...
   like the base standard of the monogamy
of swans,
    and all that crying eye
of a swan widow, or widower...
well sure...
  cognitively... we're on top
of the hierarchy...
    but in terms of: sigma replicas...
with our outliers...
    *** "stuff"?
             i guess we were beaten
by swans...
   and in terms of muscles,
gorillas, and diet?
               gorillas beat us to it too...
either "we're" a paradox,
or there's a god akin to Loki
          playing us the mules of foolery;
somehow "reality" is not suspect,
somehow: it always was;
but now there's a cherry tree in
my garden, which i planted...
        just about the right sort
of compensation for not having
a protruding Adam's apple
                     bulging from my neck.