randy prunty

 



delusiveness bisque


somebody not anybody for instance me runs through my head as i’m a sloppy sleeper. in othering words delusiveness exists. then when i wrote the way i phil is real dain brammage they said. all that’s left is to grow older and colder. they say my balance is outstanding in my field. for since i am delusive and for since i once wrote unmeant otherification and since my mind is just a nightmare of words just dark lights bulbing out my face and i’m no good for team trivia. hey some of my best friends are dreams. what i hear you saying is the slightest idea. dimness we live i thought. and die in different cities all over and wash it down with lemonade. it’s nutritious and burns like sourwood honey. did you just move didn’t i just see you on the moon? so you wanna see the lifestyle to which i’ve become accustomed? it’s the way i put my foot in my pants. compared to you i’m me. i’m so tired of words i may throw up no i’m too hungry for that. soon something will happen and i’ll have another fish story. eyes bout to burst. look i’ll be honest with you you can’t trust me. this is as self conscious as you’ll ever see me. pretty shook. in past lives i was prawns never stressed happy as a clam now look it. hand-over-brain i woke up right now don’t laugh. i’ll be squeezing more time together in a minute for the life of me. i’m afraid about muzak i don’t know much. shy of a load huh? i get that a lot. i just learned you’re suppose to name your thing so of course mine is jubilee junction. let your head lean like me i do. present company excluded.

 

 

 

the last fish
or  i think i understand everything gertrude stein ever wrote


take something like yourself
a bird leaping
to describe the solar system

be verbal and elegiac
the last fish as a condition
for Pablo’s pout

idly boats float
you create a scene
flies near the eyes

we stared into the water as the fish
stared into our fire
we brought pots and pens
and each a button

lips bluntly clumsied
dynamite the light of the world
call if you fall . . . no answer
the sea horses are ready
have at it

cow bell meditation
thinking very fine is history
of us unthunk