Here Comes Everybody!

She stands behind me in the kitchen and takes the spoon out of my hand and hands me another. What can I say, I’m a natural lunatic. Those scooters were made for clotheslines. Tell you what, I’ll call back in a week and we’ll get this thing going, right? ok? right? Please respond asap as I have a conference call with the interested parties. I’m going to have 9 because 12 gives you cancer. Serious as a heart attack. It’s a, what do you call it, fraud problem. The Tesh never stops. They had a metal bible there, I am not kidding. I have a schwoo up me. My gardener has two colors of skin. We’re working on it but we have no ETA. I am not selling anything; this is an opportunity. I turned the pan upside down and FLOP. That’s his “good” outfit, he only has one. All right my man, there you go, enjoy. That’s what I’m sayin’. Like I said. I just love to laugh, love my kids, love to travel. I think it usually means you have to make some really big changes. I’m over it. It’s crazy. I think I did it.

3 thoughts on “Here Comes Everybody!

  1. I didnt see this on my desk. Did you send over the cleaner? Im out of the nice china but we do have matching forks. all will be well though as soon as my ship comes in. We can hop the turnstyle or we can pay for our ride. But either way its time to get this party started. Please pass the salt. I havent seen your latest work but I hear good things. Come on boy have a cigar, your gonna go far. Its like when I was a kid. Fish and plankton form the sea. Its all about what you have the nerve to do. I once saved thyme in a bottle. So long, and thanks for all the fish

    The ashes which are the cigar’s malady
    imitate the concierges rushing down the stairs
    after their broom that fell from the fifth floor
    killed the gasman
    that employee resembling a bug in a salad
    The bird lies in wait for a bug and it’s the broom that got you gasman
    Your wife’s hair will be white as sugar
    and her ears will be unpaid bills
    unpaid because you are dead
    But why didn’t this gasman have feet shaped like a three
    why didn’t he have the lucid look of a glovestore
    why didn’t he have his mother’s dried-up breast hanging from his belly
    why didn’t he have flies in the pockets of his jacket
    He would have passed away damp and cold like a smashed porcelain vase
    and his hands would have caressed the bars of his prison
    But the sun in his pocket had put on its cap
    –Benjamin Peret
    translated by Keith Hollaman

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