The early morning … we’re on muddy ground … electrical energy all around us. A car door slams. I’m smoking some sooty tobacco.
Read MoreA while ago, someone on Facebook was selling books. I purchased a few titles by Alfred Jarry and Edouard Leve. This was years ago.
Read MoreCult Leader drops what cocaine she can into a metal bucket. Laugh track gets louder. Cult Leader glances to one side. She whispers, repeating numerical permutations…
Read Moreby Shane Jesse Christmass On Inauguration Day your lung collapsed because it had occasional moss growing on it. In Washington you caught certain vibrations coming from the 14th Street Bridges. Scientific healers appeared on CNN detailing how time was squeezing tighter and tighter. You were in a bed at the Georgetown University Hospital. An intravenous pole…
Read MoreBurton was born in Kentucky. He moved itinerantly before settling in Oakland. Temperatures rise, so does the suicide rate.
Read MoreGrasso came apart at his seams, driving his car out to Wards Island. At seams with lesions all over his body making him popped to confess something, anything. Swollen is his mind that’s diced. He doesn’t have taste anymore. Grasso was a messenger, nothing more, nothing less, all raw and primitive, yet immensely sophisticated.
Read Moreby Shane Jesse Christmass Take one look at Clara Rockmore, what do you see? Massive piled-upon Beehive, frail hands, but it is the eyes, and the eyes are fixed upon one predetermined point in the universe, a single ligature, like a somnambulist cheating in someone’s dressing room, like a mental patient possession a vatic faculty…
Read Moreby Shane Jesse Christmass Who models the sexiest supermarket aisles? A SWAT team of bluecoats arrive almost within minutes, handcuffed – shutting my eyes. “My God! Will I ever find my way home?” Standing on the corner of Cheshunt and Broxbourne, meadow and copse and cornland all around me. A tall figure in a scarlet…
Read MoreCheck the Swamp: I’m in there. We might be idle machines of fretted-about signs, of the skull housing that of the head, rupturing the sensitive, what a fucking devil! I want to smash my skateboard among her clothes, her expression shows she or another. The strongest affinity, I take it into consideration and musical works.…
Read Moreby Shane Jesse Christmass Betty is called by many names, the psychosomatic froth on a wave, the energy in sperm. Misers on the high road sniff it, murdered they find the intoxication, the same spirit which pervades, visibly disused in an island. The mere means of production, the lie, letter words that seem to be…
Read MoreBerfrois: The Book is now available at all good bookshops and a certain online store.
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