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i live in an apartment complex that has water issues/and every now and then we dwellers get an e-mail/saying that the water has been shut off temporarily

last night i found not by e-mail/but by a gurgling sound and no water/that it was happening again

and the timing was awful/because i had yuck on my hands/and needed to wash them

i handled that crisis by using the drinking water in the fridge to wash/depleting my potable water supply by about a third

but another crisis began to loom/that of a growing need to answer the “call of nature”

and it seemed to me that the middle of the night between sunday at 10:26pm and dawn monday morning would not see a renewal of water service

consequently and from desperation/i created an ad-hoc religion called the Church of Immediate Needs/central to which dogma was the proposition that the presiding deity or reality-aspect or supernaturally-powered listener would prioritize prayer by immediacy of need weighted by relative outrageousness of request/and if the need were sufficiently immediate and the request sufficiently modest/it would stand an excellent chance of being answered in the affirmative

and having formed this religion immediately prayed that water would fill the toilet tank after i flushed and if possible would also resume gush-on-command from shower head and faucets

and then fell into mildly troubled sleep/and woke at the urgent message from my body’s evacuation system/sent at 3:57am

and stumbled to the bathroom sink and manipulated the faucet control

and LO AND BEHOLD like a car engine cold-starting the spigot sputtered and coughed/but then gushed blessed and holy WATER

and i was able to take care of business

.

so now there is a new church…or is there?

perhaps our own bodies have their own Church of Immediate Needs

and “Gotta go! NOW!!”

is a prayer

hark: a shark

hark: a shark

feel: an eel

swish: a fish…that got away…in the dark…

unreel

Afterword: Compulsivity led to the creation of this minimal list, minimalist poem. Midevening today I realized that if midnight came and went, and I failed to publish something on my blog, I would end a streak that started on July 25th. My friend RussKaz was nearby when I had this realization, and he happened to have single-word prompts on flash cards, so I asked him to pull one at random, and he pulled “shark.” The rest is hastily-written microhistory, with the subtext that a text-body in motion tends to stay in motion, especially if the textmaker has a screw loose.

she flexed her wings and flew into the sky/and orbited a planet she had known/before she donned her latest flesh. in high/aphelion our sun but dimly shone

but she supplied the radiance the brightness/and dove into the atmosphere a nymph/of firefly glow of first-time-kiss delightness/swift unlymphatic for she had no lymph

from core to ring she sped and danced en pointe/and left a ringdust phosphorescent wake/a kindred soul beheld in lust and want/but she was gone a differed need to slake

through solar wind she fled then bed resumed/through sun’s core in her dream cleansed unconsumed

my mother started losing words/about four years before she died

“where is that…silver thiing?” she asked me/as i brought her sandwich/and salad with little jars/of extra virgin olive oil/and red wine vinegar/and exactly six lemon slices

by “silver thiing” she meant the tv remote/with which she accessed/her beloved “the price is right”/with host drew carey

she seemed to find her way/to and up the autistic spectrum/as she lost words and then concepts

and her pain was increasingly constant/and intolerable/yet it was still possible to draw laughter from her/till not long before she was gone

.

my older brother has begun to lose words

I have regarded him as my canary in a coal mine/and so this latest turn of life dismays

“i got this…thiing” he says

long pause

“dementia?”

“no not that…what’s the…other one?”

“alzheimer’s?”

“yeah that’s it”

.

i can’t find a word for how i feel

but a symbol will do

😦

i dawdle. reading edward bryant’s “war stories” in the last dangerous visions while digesting pizza. on pages 104-5 a woman spy is having a conversation with a shark who has just swallowed her whole and dived into deep water. but it may not be a full-biological shark. my late friend bernard schober would have liked this passage, i think.

i dawdle. there’s music across town, and I am invited, and i have a rented car, but i am digesting both buffalo wings and storyline.

I am mentally ill in much the same way harlan ellison, editor of the last dangerous visions, was. he struggled with bipolarity and clinical depression, but to a much greater degree than i do. the brilliant scenarist j. michael straczynski, executor of the ellison foundation/estate, went into extraordinary detail about ellison’s condition in the introduction to this book, which i have waited for for fifty years because ellison’s condition kept him from finishing the job.

my dining table bears a similarity to straczynski’s description of the manuscript-strewn tables in ellison’s home, which will become a museum called “ellison wonderland.”

my left shoelace is untied. it was untied all my walk to little cæsar’s too. and I had forgotten to put my fitbit in my pocket, so i will not get credit for those 2000 or so steps.

time to tie my shoelace and put the remaining half of the detroit deep dish veggie pizza in the refrigerator and go.

time to go.

but let me just check facebook first…

governors govern/presidents preside/representatives represent/but kings rule

for some it is a good gig/what with the scepter and ceremonies/the command performances the hobnobbing with bigshots/with the king the biggest shot of all

paradise for a megalomaniac and a drama queen

but the implied hierarchy is unsettling to some/and the acquisitive urge of royals/leads to the greedy want of more and more

which leads to some getting less and less

and competition amongst monarchs/leads to war

and though henry v himself fought in agincourt/rare is the king who takes arms himself

.

we seem to love leaderboards/to know who’s on top/and if you speculate that such number-one-ing and top-tenning/might be inherently unhealthy

the mob might call you a commie

.

some kings live prosperous long lives/some are booted out or regicide while still children

.

mother earth does not care

i was lengths of roll-tubed clay/alchemy performed today/made me beach bum beach ball cat/cell phone on the side no hat/so i use my hand for shade

vaguely hoping to get laid/vaguely wishing for a towel/but there is no need to growl/i’ll just chill on canvas beach/vague existence tastes like peach

i woke near midnight

there seemed to be murmurs coming from the front room/which since i live alone and have no radio/was creepy and scary

i swung the door to the front room open/to silence/to no murmurs/to just whispery traffic noise/and the high-pitched soundthread/of mild tinnitis

i closed the connecting door and went back/to bed/and soon dozed/but in minutes woke/to murmuring

marched to the door but stopped/listened/couldn’t hear much/but it was more than traffic noise

carefully silently opened the door

the sound stopped

closed the door but not completely/and at the edge of audibility/there seemed to be more murmuring

got an idea got my phone/opened the sound recorder app/set it to record/left the phone in the front room near the birds/went to bed

drowsed/dozed/sank into/the velvet starscape/of slumb THEN A CAR ALARM WENT OFF RIGHT BY THE BEDROOM DOOR BWEEP BWEEP BWEEP BWEEP EE-AH EE-AH EE-AH EE-AH KEEZO KEEZO KEE–

then abruptly ended

i went back into the front room/got my phone and pressed stop/and the display said 3:14 and i pushed the play arrowhead

and there WAS a sound as if of distant voices/but i could not parse individual words/except perhaps near the end

hard to tell but it sounded like a hoarse old crow diffused in the fog of distance

“he needs to make more of us”

followed by an indistinct murmur of bird-assent AND THEN THE CAR ALARM WENT OFF BOTH ON THE RECORDING AND OUTSIDE THE WINDOW BWEEP BWEE*

i stopped the playback/at the exact instant the second car alarm stopped

you win, birds

I will make more of you

All my adult life I have been getting come-ons/For credit for timeshares for one-time-only offers

That are focused on my deservedness

“Here’s your new credit limit./You earned it. Take that vacation/You always wanted.

“You owe it to yourself.”

Sounded good/But had I read the fine print on the back/And the APR (Annual Percentage Rate) of 29.2%

I would have concluded/That I owed it to myself/To flee earnestly

I learned my lesson/But apparently the electorate did not/And voted for president a proxy/To fulfill their basest desires

He will kick ass and take names/For lists for future ass-kickings

He will purge his land of the shithole rabble

He will take additional steps to ensure that his will/IS The Will of the People

Or else!

And a vast army of REAL Thugs/Slavers to do his bidding

And the Bible he defiled and sold

Says

“Verily, they shall have their reward.”

a potter a sponge an x-acto knife a potter’s wheel a wire tool a needle tool a bucket of water a trimming tool and five pounds of white sandless clay

made a globular vase form let it firm up cut it free from the wheel head turned the vase upside down carefully centered and buttressed with a thick clay roll

trimmed away excess clay righted the vase centered and buttressed it again

and then the needle tool made guidelines the x-acto knife sliced the form into segments and the clay segments were baked in a kiln

and the potter took the fired-clay segments and tried several arrangements and arrived at one that felt super-right but needed something

and the search for that something amid already-fired oddments yielded a tiny egg shape and a corpuscular micronest for it to perch on

and the arrangement zinged