Look out it’s poetry

oiled bikini reflections

outright. no bullshit

with The Pixies murmuring somewhere faraway

good afternoon, Los Angeles

how are you; how was the drive; would you like a mini bottled water?

just take it, come on

it’s for you; plus we don’t even really recycle

i mean we do but not really

on this sunshine glorious day

in the autumn afternoon

that’s freezing cold everywhere else but isn’t here because

it’s full of sound and vertical lines and vectors

and a recipe for vegetarian sushi leftovers

from that place down the street

you’re invited by the way, forever

in glistening, reverberating ripples

on the pooling, liquid surface of Stanley Kubrick’s first idea

that is still echoing in the fibres of myriad clawed tentacles

it’s our patented Idea Machine

plastic pink and full of forgiven tears

it’s not recyclable

sorry but it comes that way

not unlike that bottled, bottled water we handed you

not unlike this editing platform we have

free of charge

that is so


annoying to use

that we predict you will upgrade

to the bikini edition

for that pink sereness and time by the pool

like Jim Jarmusch’s saturated black and white

that is still somehow pink , due to the content


you have Content that we want

that’s pink and black and white all over

that’s alright with you, right?


unrepeating words

“Well, we’ve finished downloading them all. Each and every word. All computationalized and routed. The techie team calls it ‘purged’ though I guess that isn’t a very nice word to use around the patients. I’m so sorry, Miss Lewis. I wish the prognosis were better.”

“Dehische!” exclaims the bandaged patient, coming out of a stupor.

“Yes I understand. Water for the patient, please? Thank you. Now now settle down, dear. We know things are confusing. But you can point out what you need for the moment. I assure you I’ll understand the gist of it.”

Miss Lewis, the patient, brings a jittering finger up out of her bed and points meaningfully at a nearby table where there is a pen and some paper.

“Cacoethes!” Miss Lewis sputters, drooling a bit in the process. The talkative nurse cleans her up with a napkin.

“Yes very good, that’s a table. Did you want something on the table?”

Miss Lewis’s head jolts around on her neck but she becomes fatigued. Instead of saying anything, she places her head back down on the fluffy, crisp pillow of her sick bed. She swallows a few times.

“That’s right, all better now. A nap will be good for you. Now don’t worry. You’re not expected to make a full recovery. Doesn’t that take some of the pressure off? You can rest easy now, knowing exactly what you’re facing.”

Miss Lewis begins exhaling powerfully and then begins to thrash and scream in her bed.

“Oh dear!” frets the nurse. “What have I said. Doctor? Doctor!”

“Steatopygic!” the patient screams.

A doctor scurries in, “Ah. The purged one?”

“Qualtagh!” the patient shrieks directly at the nurse, her pupils begin dilating like those of an animal about to attack.

“Yes doctor. Fresh out of recovery. She’s in the disoriented state.”

The doctor surges towards the patient and holds her down. The patient manages to grasp the doctor by the sleeve. She attempts to pull him closer to her, gnashing her teeth. “Abacinate,” she hisses at him.

The doctor ignores her and manages to find a vein. He spikes her with something tranquilizing.

“Digamy…” the patient murmurs. Then she is asleep.

The talkative nurse holds the patient’s hand and then tenderly brushes a few hairs from the young woman’s forehead.

“So sad,” says the nurse getting a little choked up. “Just so sad when they turn out this way.”

“Yes well,” the doctor takes the chart down and makes a note. “Millions of words upon words on thousands of pages upon pages. And all for what? Some imagination game? What did this one publish?”

The nurse checks the file and frowns a little. “Nothing. Just a blog.”

The doctor rolls his eyes and sighs. “Frankly, I’m surprised there haven’t been more cases like these through history. They seem to fill up entire wings these days. How can anyone stand it? Typing and typing like bent over scribes. And not even to copy down anything useful. Just regurgitating their own personal thoughts and feelings into various, interrelated scenarios. I can’t believe past generations of medicine couldn’t see it for the mania that it was.”

“Still,” sighs the nurse. “It’s sad when they go total corruption. She’s a stage 10, too. Can you imagine? Total deletion of every word you’ve already used? It’s unthinkable.”

“Yes,” agrees the doctor bringing a thoughtful finger to his chin. “Astonishing, the power of the brain. Almost like some kind of rejection. As if it knows, somewhere in its feisty little coils, that repeating oneself over and over again is an evolutionary glitch. Well, in any event, she’ll be alright. It’s only the words she’s written down anyway. Those she’ll never grasp again. But she’ll get some new ones. After all, dogs only know about 45 words, don’t they? And they do just fine. Best friends and all that.”

The doctor chuckles and squeezes the nurse’s shoulder. “Take heart. You’ll see. She’ll be gushing with gibberish again in no time.”

Yes and what if?

The year is 2048. Encyclopedia Britannica’s online traffic has slowed to a point where the company decides to formally rebrand . They lean into the current way their users are interacting with the site and officially change the primary function of the platform to become a dating site. For additional payment, subscribers to Britannica’s new dating platform can also opt into the “user-addendums” package where all of the Encyclopedia’s entries have been augmented by self-described authoritative sources. Due to mass appeal and low staff, Britannica’s criteria to register as an authoritative source has a low threshold. As a result, these user-addendum sections are notorious for being contradictory, arcane, and, therefore, entertaining. One such augmentation is a user-addendum primer by a biology professor from University of Wisconsin. This primer meticulously describes the manifold aesthetic properties of human anuses and has become a viral sensation far beyond the Britannica’s user platform. The professor who posted the addendum had his identity revealed, lost his tenure track at U.W. but has managed to salvage his career by monetizing his own online humiliation with a line of apparel. He is currently trying to found his own university to teach an experimental, technocratic ethics program which promises prospective students “a learning plan that will demolish the rotting carcass of our present society.”