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June 17, 2000
ENTRY - bamboo book
This is religion:this is the book:this is our flesh:this is our blood:this is the girl:this is ana:and hopefully he will return:when he'll finish the money:to our bamboo planet.
tales from the Bamboo Book
...as narrated by Nick, part-time court-jester, who served the King of the boys and of the girls in the day he turned in His Holy Grace Lara III, goddess.
INVOCATION
...
...let them be in a dye for the day, for the sake of context and reason and to all the boyz starring blindly when they care of themself exclusively. ...let them be in a dye for the day, in the summer, when nothing is strange in the pale-red afternoon by the sea. Because it is summer, it is late, it is always, it is still and dead bones white bones drying in the empty pool. Rust explains it all. Always is always.
DOWN OUR LITTLE TOWN
...
No locals here, just strangers. Us, a French family with a buzz slang black widowed and a group of lesbians. Nice looking, bony, tanned, walking. One pulling his scooter back. Europeans hate each other. It's not going to work. This pressure to educate and mix in vain. Roaming coast to coast. Propelled by cold Buds from the golife. She's trying to record and for some alien reason her smile fits perfectly with the beach and the crusty villas and the waves and the kids and the legs and all of the colors that are and the stars that are not. Them all. Don't lie. You worked it out smoothly. The only thing that can break the Dutch trio that is way-too-late when he stick the umbrella in the warm sand. Crack.
EVENING START
...
An army of days from here to there and from there before your bic-ballpoint tatoo starts to fade. I know your face, they know you and they'll find you before you finally get it. Two more dykes joined the church. To keep an eye on. They don't wear no hats. They're damn parrish. The loud kind. Further inquiries follow. King turned blue today. No way to get you back? I'll work my work again. He created the man. Man was lonely. God creates animals. Adam got too scraped up. God threw in Eve at no extra charge. Shallow, clean, clear, dense, oily, terse, blue, gas, nogas, cold, blue, infiltrated, secluded, shallow. Mobile phones addicted people are far more annoying than french whining babushas.
MAD AT POSEIDON
...
Late enough to extend our search. White screaming mussels roving into each other's shell. A dry blue giant parks on a yellow tap. She's breathing, assigning colors and complimenting things. Do you know the walkers? Master Julie got rid of the bra. H100 gets my pen because he is overexcited and stranded at the white or a brown spider but his leg, he ravenously brushes. Got One. Every other minute I've had enough. Black scary Bob made it to the ramp walking suspiciously. Your baby's here. The cold kid, the discreet, the baby spider walking his way up my bony spine. Checks some other kids, jumps over the fences and his wolverine king face disappears. Hiding behind a thick pair of soundglasses. You guys, you get it special, right? Ambiguous and undetermined. Not for daily use. They appear and disappear like ghosts. The man just can not relax. Started a new book. Hardcover. King called the doctors. Am I fired. When I said that. I don't remember.
© Fortunato Caragliano
Posted by lck at June 17, 2000 04:32 PM
