Invisible post day


Here, you will see none of the hard work and creativity that is currently going on offline. It is happening though. Quietly.


Tea Time on Mars


I sit on a wall of boiling leather

and wonder what this roiling weather

means for apple kicking hour

under the tall and ticking tower

that isn’t even a clock.

It’s finally time for the fishes to sink

they’ve had too many knishes to drink

and their buoyancy runs low

regardless of the snow

I can’t see them from the dock.

Murdersocks: Chapter 5: In which the dream ends

Murders (per capita) (1998 - 2000) by country ...

Image via Wikipedia

I apologize for ending the last chapter so abruptly.  The dream was so painful to try to recall* again that my fingers rebelled and would not put it on paper.**
I have now regained my composure and will continue where I left off:
The man (who remained unaware of his predicament) absorbed the crowy mist into his skin.  Some subjective seconds passed before he suddenly stopped being a man and began a new life as a large murder-flavored pudding.  The glow gradually dissipated and the flow of time resumed its previous manner of timeyness.  I noticed a murder of crows fly past the window outside at a completely reasonable velocity.  The only thing that had not returned to normal was the well-being of my customer.
And now, the joyful childlike squeal that I had merely sensed before from my feet was fully audible and all-encompassingly disturbing.
The dream was over.
Except it wasn’t.  It had ended, but another dream immediately followed, showing me the next murder.  And then I saw the one after that and so on and so on.  I relived the murderous murders of my neighbors, my friends, my uncles, my aunts, my cousins, my one nephew, the postman, the dog-walker, Old Farmer Billiam from across town, Hezekiah the Bog Mower, Norman the Sidewalk-sitter, and finally the myriad mountainy men and women I came across that very murderous day.
After reliving the worst parts of the worst two weeks of my life in slow motion, I finally awoke and found that it still only 10:40 PM.  There would be no more rest that night as I reflected on what I had just seen.
*You know how dreams usually disappear from your mind mind as soon as you wake up?  This one wasn’t like that at all.  I just don’t like thinking about it.
**This is paper.

On many things being you

(read in singsongy voice at mail-sorting room of your local post office)
Be your own baby
you must parent it well
if you teach it all you know
you will grow up swell
you can be your own dinner
but i don’t recommend it
it may make you a winner
but you also might bleed to death
if you are your own cat
you may get confused
if you do catch a rat
have you been used?
If you are many things
many things will be you
we could try to list them all
but we might turn blue

Concept for Possible Use in Something Later: Sloth People

The Sloth People are not actually related to sloths or people, but are so named because they act somewhat like both.  Like sloths, they spend much of their time eating, climbing, and sleeping in trees.  Like humans, they have the capacity for communicating verbally.  They think mostly about the daily needs of their slothful lives, but in all the time they spend resting, much deep philosophical pondering occurs.  Such big ideas are expressed via complicated metaphors involving food and sleep.
Useful phrases for travelers:
I like this tree.
Uh yit anch
I = uh
like = yit
tree = anch
this = no equivilent; specified only by context
Are you tired?
Eh phtu hi
you = eh
tired = phtu
? = hi
We should sleep in that tree
Uheh phtut anch ya
We = I and You = uheh
sleep = verb form of tired = phtut
In/at/[location] = ya
I don’t like this food.
Uh moyit ulch
negation = mo
food = ulch
Don’t eat that!
Eh mo-ulcht ulch bin
eat = verb form of food = ulcht
! = bin
You don’t like when I sleep on the food, do you?
Eh moyit uh phtut ulch ya hi
I hate when you sleep on the food!
Uh moyit eh phtut ulch ya bin
This is my tree!
Anch eh-anch bin