halfpikes and rumplytods

trust the mechanicals to make a box of it,
eluding contrary brown fields of rice
all the hunting dogs ride down
dying long sheets of paper bright red
juggling clamshells with a beggar’s ease
in spite of, though instead of
all the fumbling gasps at heaven
pete’s left his keys at the gate again
there’ll be no fetching the rollyball now
all the giant’s raging, storms
and beaching whales brigade


bash the crankshaft open with your hammer
we’ll never get these melons to market
broke down on the shores of Monteczuma
shoals of goats–yikes!–wave in herds
further, the bardo’s long face just strums,
his mouthwhistle longing for the old ‘stache

just the shade of pink to tickle my kinderkness

i almost thought the music was coming from…

once when i was a kinderchild, thoughts like ravellingrugs just spat out in quick blurts. now, i’m not so sinister and only slighly less conscious of every little thing.
(program: a1 type b process GO)

so the auld soles just want the websurfing brains to criscros the wyrld sole, eh? i’ve got some plezhur monkeys who might (GODDAMN FUCK SHIT COCK) object to that.

Mothballing the shuttles…?

This article at Time magazine.com seems to say a lot of common-sensical things about the NASA space shuttles.

For example, why are we using systems that are 30 years old to get us into space? Why haven’t we made something groovier and cooler and tinier? It boggles the mind that they were using 8086 processors until just recently. Sheesh. Even my grandfather has a computer faster than that!