Wednesday, February 21, 2007

Ether/ Orb

by J.D.Nelson

By the time the sauce arrived, I had already finished my meal. Joe wiped his dirty hands on his cowboy jeans / testing : ether/orb / under the porch with a mason jar full of sheeps' eyes -- I looked inside the small tin box. There must have been 1000 dollars in Black Jack crystals. (huff!) -- we talked about using a laser / my horses are always in "season" -- just ask the A*X*I*S agent. He'll be right back with the reason we need. I quote: some agents like taking the extra time to stew the winter root vegetables -- carefully -- as if I were a typewriter all over again.

I thought the warning was a joke -- you want some money for those turnips? Duh! No one's "keeping it wild" around here -- we're sitting through the other parts -- but it's all RIGHT NOW! Everyone hits the "cellar" on Friday Nights -- how about some of that bloody beet juice? Potato power? That's about all my twin-stomachs can handle -- just ask the small bird in a cage in the corner -- where am I going to uncork my new courage? Do I frighten you? What's Xmas w/o those dang old vices -- hard liquor and cigarettes? [wolf:teeth] and we're back with the axis -- polar caps on, people! Never found power/citizens of earth hurt [burnt water] worlds upon worlds upon worlds -- what warning? Joe wiped his dirty hands on his cowboy jeans.

What about the old 'axis anthem'? AND WHY NOT? Now, about those winter vegetables -- how about some "squawrsh," ma'am? Never wash your liver with vodka -- trust me. [egg salad] testing : ether/orb / movin' on in, right on time: the people are frozen in cubes [chicken:teeth] [paper claw] [con carne] Kandi's coming up from Tiny Town [nervous smile] tomorrow. "The [motor oil] treats are on me," he said. Easy [soiled] prey! Why can't some cute blonde girl pick me up on the side of the road, Beth? We never go out and get into trouble anymore -- I could only agree with her and the rest of the night was shot, as far as I was concerned. (inflate raft 2) She made absolutely no sense / and when the sun comes up we'll be in New Mexico. Nothing at all, Beth -- Joe's running from nothing. (nothing more frightening than an empty bag or me on the couch with an empty bottle on the coffee table -- and no coaster!) as if I were a typewriter all over again / the party was terrible!

Jump across the circuitry, please / I know! We'll all eat those little sandwiches, smoked, pepper'd turkey and mild white cheese or watercress -- what happened to those bottles of vodka? [crow:teeth] reel three nine three: Joe sat in zazen. What's taking them so long? Peel back another [hot chocolate] layer -- onion skin and the [milky eyed] tangerine man -- the Cactus King of Cooley County is ringing your [crow's at the door] buzzbell. Hard to take the case -- Joe's running from nothing. [Christmas teeth] pray for ease and peel back another layer: Even and even, together [bean curd] for the hoping. Testing : ether/orb [moon bat] token, over -- basic camp / Joe the Werewolf in the Bank at three-thirty PM, shoulda known that dumb M.F. ain't got no wallet. What warning?

Joe wiped his dirty hands on his cowboy jeans / slowly coasting, using no fuel and the radio ain't working anyway -- Keep M.F. Wild! Red, black or blue, I'm sure I'll find cookies! Let's look into those sheeps' eyes and dream of a greener pasture somewhere with no job to go to -- where's Joe gonna get all the ingredients for those peanut butterscotch cookies? Even that ol' groaner has feelings -- a crusty old scab like you should be able to appreciate that, Joe. It's not like there's a grocery store ten minutes from here -- here's the secret breeze: precise interlocking, machine seams in absolute cyber-darkness -- don't tempt me, robot! I drank both bottles all by myself, in less than ten hours -- testing : ether/orb, but not both. This test: one, two, 3 -- this one is (open:wired)

This 1 = enough of my birthday money, old broken coins in my red spider night in the desert canyon -- night:test(one) -- the ingredients list is corrupted -- do not trust this data -- this is something from the tomb of ancient scrolls -- deadly knowledge -- a simple equation and then silence -- no one could say anything, not this time -- meat on a sterling silver hook -- dead right wrong dead to the world of worlds -- as if I were a type-writer all over again / this button will activate the system in the event of a hilarious moment / pants down around my ankles, fifty pages / I like puns myself, dry stuff, Bob Newhart / five bucks for an Xmas crab cake from Maryland? The next time you hear these words, remember not to turn around to see the person who'd just as soon rip your face right off of your papier-mâché head -- what ever happened to Curly?

That clown used to make the best vegetable soup -- we'd have that and tater tots for lunch whenever it was Curly's turn to cook at the firehouse. All right, men -- we're back from the ancient Egyptian bread bakery -- sorry to have taken so long -- you don't even notice the seam! Tank of my money fish if the brakes have been snipped off /// hear the x-tra green money machine: $ / were you being nice and patient? Another 'Doctor Strange' occult rip-off -- I brought all of this on myself. My tank's stopped moving / kill the urge to smoke -- paper notes, crumpled thought wads -- think of my monkey flash whenever you're homesick -- remember those afternoons down at the deli? The monkey would make the best vegetable soup and tater tots -- remember those, smothered in homemade ketchup? He used to be the cook at a firehouse in Boston. Joe wiped his dirty hands on his cowboy jeans.

you can find out more about J.D. Nelson at www.MadVerse.com

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