n.t.s.

"the Last" every word must contain within it all the truest meanings of the other five....moment of decision is the kernel into which/from which all equally derive/divide.

to gain its defintion or 'identity' every thing/named thing must be inclusive of all that is NOT it and the thing that is nearest it before it is 'not it'.


also like sally's 'the angel'
the last of.. or the last....

super powers

he is visiting. i'm on the couch about to kiss him when i hear a lot of weird clicking on the floor behind me. I ask him, "Do I have dogs?" and he says, "Yes, two. One is a shepherd". I look and they are two boys. Not boy dogs. Boys.

One I lose track of. The other goes outside. There is a wall that comes out perpendicularly from my house. (all this from my Perspective/Proportion class, methinks) This boy looks right at me, holds my eye as he puts his foot right through the wall, steps into it and vanishes too. It is as shocking to see as it actually would be.

I call out, "Sean" (not his name). "Did you see that? Did you see that?.....Sean?"

"Sean" is gone. I am in my living room alone.
I feel nervous. I know something is about to happen and I back up to the wall.

Feet first, the boy that walked through the wall outside emerges back through my living room wall. He knows I'm a bit freaked and runs at me screaming ooooooo!. It's really stupid and juvenile but I'm actually scared anyway so I back up right into the wall behind me and disappear through it into wakefulness. I wake up a bit spooked but impressed with my own powers to move myself between realities.

no smoking in paris cafés?!?

oh mon dieu.
what's next for god's sake?
no writing on napkins?
no gesticulating?
no crossing your legs slowly under a table and knowing what you mean by it?
no g minor chords?
no fog on the avenues?
no moaning after midnight?
no self pity, self loathing, self indulgence?

no smoking in paris cafés... wow.
surely then no four hour cups of tea.
no extralong letters home.
no watching the same woman walk by twice, three times.
no going home with her before the fourth time.
no saxophones on rooftops.
no dancing in the aisles.
no standing to dance.
no playing more than one encore.
no jumping a fence.
no picnicing in their yard.
no smoke curling up completing your thought just that slowly.


let's think about this
ain't there no place away

i want to hear words like notes
strokes along the fire

a long slow seduction on an autumn night
when autumn was still autumn. (more g.brown cuz he's playin' and he'd understand)


we used to walk into grocery stores in our barefeet.
we shocked the europeans with that one.
but we felt so free, so young.

what's the point of this?

i'm long over smoking myself. i hope.
not much to defend it.
but for a frenchmen's long drag on a filterless,
the woman done crying, thinking it through with red lipstick wrapped around deep smoke and a decision, the sixteen year old dippin her feet in adulthood still drinking the single citron presée she could pay for,
The hippies rollin' in the rain - the trains still hours from leaving...

more goodbyes to you, old world.