Sunday, May 25, 2008

Fly Whackers and Jujubes

‘I’m cracking up’ said the legless man to the alms man. ‘No your not’ said the alms man to the legless man. ‘Yes I am’. ‘No your not’. ‘Yes I am I am’. ‘No your not’. ‘I am I am cracking up I am’. ‘No your not’. ‘I’m cracking, cracking up’. ‘Nope’. The sky fell open like a butchered cow, clouds and half-stars falling splash to the ground. In the Quaker parish of Nyregyhza in Szabolcs-Szatmar-Bereg Hungary a man with a bum leg and a rabbit’s-lip sat thinking of ways to end his life. He said over and over to himself in a soft yowling hum ‘I’m cracking up. No your not. Yes I am I am. No your not. I am I am cracking up I am’…(rabbits’-lips and crisscrossed crisscrosses). Awaking from a snake-oil coma the legless man ate a red russet red apple and turned on his busted television set. On channel 27 ½ was a show on Quakerism, so he sat sitting taking parish-size bites of the red russet red apple, eyes trained on the television screen. He fell into a snake-oil fugue thinking about his grandmamma’s boiled oats and the spoon she used to whack flies off the kitchen curtains. His grandmamma would make him sweep up the dead swatted flies into a dustpan fashioned from a Boil Your Own Oats box, the whacked swatted curtain flies smaller than Sunkissed raisins.

Clermont-Ferrand Auvergne France, Skopje Karpos Macedonia, Sunrise Beach Missouri, Brussels Brussels Hoofdstedelijk Gewest Belgium, Bandung Jawa Barat Indonesia, Cheshunt Herefordshire UK, Bury Saint Edmunds Norfolk UK, Nara Japan, Falkirk UK, Jiddah Makkah Saudi Arabia, Lule Norrbottens Lan Sweden, Vogar Gullbringusysla Iceland, Seraing Liege Belgium, Reigate Surrey, Solingen Nordrhein-Westfalen Germany, Honolulu Hawaii, Ishj Kobenhavn Denmark, Renkum Gelderland Netherlands, New Delhi Delhi Backbone India, Saltillo Coahuila de Zaragoza Mexico, Prague Hlavni Mesto Praha Czech Republic, Chula Vista California California State University, Snderborg Sonderjylland Denmark and Herning Ringkobing Denmark have Quaker Oats shops that sell fly whackers and jujubes, the black ones only.

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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