Spyre Redman
from THE PINKERTON QUANDARY
PINKERTON’S FRAILTY Fucking dead detectives don’t know nothing. all your solved mysteries are ours PINKERTON’S DEMISE Go to hell with your big coats paid for by steak-nibbling corporation bitches get out of here you rat-fink without friends, what you want some money, fuck you PINKERTON’S PINKY TOE Every pinkerton has a pinky toe the whole time they’re doing their stupid shit. Inside their stupid shoes pinky toes, pinky toes so many pinky toes I think that all their toes are pinky toes
Amelia Shriek
STUPIDITY
Stabbed me with lips with its clouds who knife-lip stab-kiss But that was a long time ago That was the past whose kisses are the knives that invented gray
Casper Moravec
THE CANAL
Morning I crested the beaten hill blinking at the sun’s detonations sunk in the reeds at the clangs and rattles the birdcalls the gyrating lamps of police officers I proudly with firewood approached my house pausing to admire it, becoming beautiful and the garden: good. The agent then appeared and pleased to see the advancements evicted me. I quit the grounds and with the others got going. Seeing then into the other houses other things: bare walls, a small fire dim between the stones. I discovered in the lane nearly finished by the rodents. At the coast people known in smoldering boats, ghastly conditions … And by that we stop the Press, with annoyance, to announce that I’m terrible company. The black trees took the neighbors, some to the seas; hundreds like me, tossed over the mountains into graves though I’d promised, in this life, not to have any. It’s clear as I sit whistling on a bale of hay almost weeping that a person piles mud in front of their house to hinder the ingress of dogs and swine then drops in the vault saying goodnight but it is daytime. So, good luck to these people and their sailing. Pills are recommended: A silence lay humping all the nature, joy feasting on the groves and hedges, the birds interrupted, the earth seemed blotted, as well as those things which have been felt already. To fell a tree, throwing ropes over the upper branches, and dragged it. The stumps out the ground and ripped. This religion gave rise to suspicion and many laborers have suffered by it. This canal on a tough wintry inky morning in January when the marshes cemented with the snows they fell where they worked and typically were left (or pushed to the side) there or in the roadway whispering Today, on a rickety wooden stool burning slowly I am craved by the Lord, much blasted with black powder scattered since the workers have their mishaps, often falling like rocks onto the homes nearby. Watching the barrows, the earth and turf on their backs, breaking stones around the bits of light that swept the land. In my memory it loiters as a single night in which they are pilfering, and even ripping the hair off sheep, and I go to the delightful valley. Day, buried in its own clothes and when it died there rose six inches of water; the furniture tossed by the storm; the roofs caving and the thatch on fire; very surprising … I tried to count the houses, like sheep on a mountain from the cold ground placed in a sack then put in a cart and conveyed to the warehouse. The cart rumbled. Through the land the swamp raged to the booming town, the curtains hovered overhead. We lived in the snow