The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

November 6, 2017

proof of nowhere

my masculine ksh: inside: not found k9% back ksh: back: not
found k10% up ksh: up: not found k11% down ksh: down: not found
k12% front ksh: front: not found k13% left ksh: left: not found
k14% right ksh: right: not found k15% above ksh: above: not
found k16% below ksh: below: not found k17% under ksh: under:
not found k18% before ksh: before: not found k19% after ksh:
after: not found k20% within ksh: within: not found k21% without
ksh: without: not found k22% in ksh: syntax error: `in'
unexpected k23% on ksh: on: not found k24% out ksh: out: not
found k25% inside ksh: inside: not found k26% outside ksh:
outside: not found k27% beyond ksh: beyond: not found
open your mouth...
Ah... speak... speak...
i love your feelings, k9% back ...
my  is yours...
k10% up calls forth excreting memory.
my masculine ksh: inside: not found
:proof of nowhere:2::
:proof of nowhere:2::
:proof of nowhere::what do they call you, when they
:call you...:one by one,
:when done.
speak... speak...your body parts, mine,
in a dark list, list them...

Woke up after a disturbing dream, New York Harbor, we were on a
bridge, had to leave our car, everyone did, an emergency, we
were at the edge of a hole in the roadway, circular, told to
jump, hundreds of feet down, I was thinking then of Saturday
Night Live, the death of Gilda Radner, I couldn't remember her
name, but Jim Belushi first, no John Belushi, Dan Ackroyd,
Garrett Morris, I don't know right from wrong, the dismal and
terrible sadness of everyone then the beauty of that show in the
beginning, simple sets, and her dancing with Steve Martin that
they played again after she died of cancer, and then woke up
thinking of Trump's America and another mass shooting, and I
didn't want to be alive in this any more, and our closest
friends from long ago aren't speaking to us but still love us.


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