Poem

I see you’ve take your settings and gone
and I don’t even know
(where’s the note_
how to
how to change the setting on the cof
fee setting
place make it
private make it stay make
it not go away and why didn’t you tell me
if was
over i would of not made all those
jjokes or even
made a letter

level 1

“How’s she doing?” Bob sat down on the park bench and clicked in.  He saw the waves crash gently against the rocks and a kid waddle across the sand pulling down on his soppy diaper.

When Bob clicked the unit on the roof of his mouth it felt like a present.  He loved dialing in with Alfonso and the others.  He could hear them now but he didn’t want to lose that wave image, it was nice. So he just listened.

“Not so good man, not so good…” Alfonso chimed in while the others chattered happily in the background.  How they could be so happy with so many things to dial in was beyond him.  He thought of Wrodrina and all the happy spaces they had made for her in the game.  She had an arcade to go to (right down the street!) a park with two swings, a nice two-level condo, 3 cool friends, nice leggings, the food (high quality), even the arcade was straight from the early nineties with all the retro games she liked.  Bob sighed.

“Ok, fill me in.” he said.

Alfonso sucked in a bunch of breath.  “Man, uh, maybe you should just click all the way in and look at it, I don’t know…”

“No, I’m looking at the shore right now, don’t need to bother, just tell me.” he said.

Alfonso took another deep breath and began, “Okay, so she seemed fine and was writing mediocre poetry and not many tears and everything seemed on the up and up.  She went to Fred’s to play guitar last night at, let’s see, oh okay, around 8:40ish p.m.  The day before she did her chores, today she was up and at ‘em at the regular time… but then, it’s weird.  All of a sudden she just came through the door and fell to the floor… holding her keys and everything and just started like, sobbing or whatever.” Alfonso paused.

“I see.  How long was she there?” Bob asked.

“At home? Let’s see… 6 hours-“

“No, how long was she on the floor?” Bob asked and noticed the little grungy kid waddling his way.  He tried to break eye contact to discourage him.  He looked at the birds.

“Um, let me see, oh here it is- five hours.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I thought it was pretty excessive.”

“No way, check the record again.  Can’t be.” Bob tried making a little fortress around him with the sand but the kid kept coming.

“Oops.  I was wrong.  Looks like about 30 minutes…”

“That’s not so bad.” Bob kicked sand in the kid’s direction.  It landed on his shoe, but he kept coming.

“What is she doing now?” Bob asked.

“Pasta.” Alfonso turned his receiver up a bit and laughed.  “Pasta.”

“She’s doing pasta. Sounds interesting…” Bob chuckled.

“Seems she won’t stop eating it now. It’s getting out of hand.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll click in.  I have to see this.” Bob thought of the waves and the kid and figured it was the perfect time anyway.

 

“There.  All better.”

He looked around at the scene.   There were empty containers and old pots with pasta bits in it and green pesto stains on the counter and it was worse than he thought.  He looked at Wrodrina and noticed about 5 or 6 extra pounds.  He sighed.  They’d have to use about 1500 extra units for the trips to the gym.  What the fuck? He thought.

“How long has this been going on, Alfonso?  And why didn’t you update me?”

“Hey! I thought she was fine.  She seemed fine.  No one thought to check interval cache.  It looked good.”

“Get the pasta outta there.  Pronto.”

“You got it, boss.”

“I’m not your boss.”

“Well you’re acting like it.”

Bob watched as Wrodrina stretched her arms and yawned and ambled chubbily over to her couch.  She texted Terry.  //Gonna take a nap. ttyl//

As soon as she closed her eyes the containers started glittering in the cube frame.

“Make em, er, make em bananas.”

“That’ll be hard to pull off, Bob.”

“Just do it.”

The tins and bins glittered into banana shape forms and he even threw in a few gnats for extra measure.

Other things happened.

Wrodrina woke up.

She yawned and a single soupy tear ambled down her cheek, finding the perfect groove and puddling.

“It won’t stop.” Alfonso whispered.

“Fuck.” Bob sighed. “Bring in the big guns.”

A knock came on Wrodrina’s door.  She opened it and saw three local firemen standing on her stoop.  One of them was bare-chested wearing only suspenders and a smile.  He winked at her.

“Sorry ma’am.  Must have the wrong house.  We got a call about a cat… but hey… can I ask you, if I’m not too forward, to maybe have dinner with me tonight?”

Wrodrina pulled a tin of French pasta from a hiding place underneath the hallway junk table.

“No, thanks.”  She pulled a fork out of her pocket and started shoveling the long tasty strands into her mouth.  “I’m busy,” she mumbled and tapped the corners of her mouth with a white handkerchief.

“Oh, well I’ll leave you my number just in case you change your mind.”

Wrodrina lifted her eyebrows and tapped the prongs of the fork on the door jamb.  She tried to make a song.

“Wait, are you crying?” one of the other firemen asked her.

“No.”

Sharing “Featured Image” /Category Format – is Options> post settings :( more update write preview ahhhhhh

If I could climb

into a window of your soul

and take a nap

right there

stretched out

super stretched

yawning

lithe

like a cat

a soft roundy curved in

 

one

very little movements

hip

turn here

cheek t

urn there

mmm

yep

I like it

 

I like it when I

and you

if you

cry my tearcup

 

soul  let me whisper

croak

take

 

stroll

stretch

asleep fall again

in

 

the crook crook your neck

arm

where any really

I would a piece of you

there

and it would

so nice

so h

 

py

all I’m

i

is

mmmm

 

just a thought

“Brad”

Speaking with him is like
I can not
Walking with him is like
Oh. Hmm
Staying in is how you snap
Oh. This is very interesting

Dreaming is like it
Oh hmm wait and pick up the package

Sinking through you anyway
not actively seeking meat
Be with you
but I do not eat it if it’s right in front of me

Chicago bull

acceptance is an art art

like when you pull the white bands but

they only get tighter

is it time for my window to slide a jaunty elevate tune?

needs more bass

 

“No fishing here maam.”

but accep-

“No fish!”

 

I bull?

operating over billions of years how does it work

Neil deGrasse Tyson

 

 

300 million years later
we took that coal

that asteroid
100 million years later
bye bye dinosaur

all of your kings
loves
wars

the last second of the last day of this calendar

we are newcomers
the cosmos
the last night of the cosmic year

say… 40 thousand generations we were wanderers
fire
branches

naming things

didn’t start painting our first pictures until the last 30 seconds of the last day of the cosmic year
say…
about 40,000 years ago

now
more stuff than we could carry
14 seconds to midnight: we invent writing

Suspend our thoughts
Save our thoughts
Send them far away

Not even two seconds ago
the two halves of the earth discovered each other

where and when we are
in the cosmos
and I can’t stop thinking about you

“What a personal story!” I’m not writing this race What a story

Where did you come from?

 

 

I was always here.  I never arrived or I have ariven incessantly, I mean, intermittently,

whatever.

You get it.  Deep down somewhere you’ve been here too.  I know, I know,

Fanny’s being all GRANDIOSE again- I get it.

 

Do you?  Pour me another cup of tea & we’ll talk….. What is

say…

    What is the shape of your body?

 

 

 

 

My∞×↑®  I don’t have a shape.  True, I take

on   different shapes             one day this      -another

boom! Jaguar.  Watch out–    “®­È° it’s a jaybird! the me

 

you see    is only a projection of me

flut flut “®­È° flut  I move

 

My consistent body–

the one you see is only a projection of me

that I like.

 

Boom.

 

That, I like.

 

 

Bo y∞×↑®  I om.F=or now

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Well… then who was responsible for the death of your mother?

 

Whoa whoa whoa.  🙂

I don’t have a mother.  What mother? You

Have to be specific.  E\artjh?   The drunk one? htThe

one who picked me up? They found me in

the dirt     eating dirt   it was funny.

We’ll take that one please, yes, ring her up.

When that one read my diary–

clipshe suffered.           be∫∫∫∫ okay. bty79a8tlhellohello.