For Every Tib and Tom Cat

dimarts

27. well and why not



Have you found the yellow sign yet?










of course that’s the deal

if the dream is feasible and plausible enough

I’ll make it happen and the hell with it

alternate realities or what have you

the point it is a pleasant enough pursuit.



but if it is too ugly or impossible then what

nothing I’ll skip it.



I dreamed last night that my coffin was yellow

all yellow – a burnished shiny keen yellow

well and why not

and now I had to think hard

either I had already the coffin and then I would paint it the same sort of yellow

or as it proved that among my scant belongings I owned no coffin

I had first to buy or make me one

and then paint it yellow

that was the deal

and a welcome one too.



but I also dreamed that then two thugs

while I was unawares cleaning something

some weeds and burned candles

at the corner of my office

two thugs had been been busy at my back

clearing my coffin

stealing my appurtenances therein...



as I confronted them and saw their nonchalance

their hated indifference to my questioning

their malicious matter-of-factness as to what pertained

to their hideous activities

and in my anger I punched one of the thugs

the fattest and thickest

in his fucking gut

and the other

his hands loaded with my stuff

had this frightened face...



well all that I couldn’t make it happen

unless two thugs really materialized thereabouts

and proceeded to rob me

that’s to say the contents of my spanking new yellow coffin

while I was employed on tidying the corner of my office

which effectively held a profusion of burned candles and tiny nascent weeds

as I realized when I kneeled down and started sprucing up

the up till now indeed too neglected corner

of my office

which is all so apposite

for who would’ve thought

that ancient ceremonies would still be represented as relics

or what have you archeological vestiges

oozing up to the floor of my humble office and then even

imprinting themselves as acid effluvia

on the palimpsests of my dreaming machine

the head?



thugs be warned though

I punch thugs’ guts easily enough

when so provoked and instructed by the oneiric shamans

of my archaic memory

and never cowed neither

for I know that the consequences are already written

in the simmering histories of the skies.






Never so well

Never so well
nyac!

Inosculated

Inosculated
anyocs de nyacs!

who the 'ell?

La meva foto
C.R. Morell his paltry efforts,

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