thelatephoenix thelatephoenix

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the late phoenix 🔥  who is beyond the unknown universe?...

http://thelatephoenix.blogspot.com/

UTTANASANA (ON THE GRASS) I'm not a pervert, just a man. but a cat thirsty for more milk. I'm always searching to empty my feeling. the sex thing, it's dogged me for centuries. wrapped me in a pretzel whose vice vise grips me tighter with no mustard from me to counter. real knots, not a lone winter-formal boutonnière which crystallized before it shattered. women are so beautiful and so inscrutable, thus their beauty takes precedence. or takes president as the case may be. we conquer many kitties and tame much trim cos we're insane. we can't help it, we ride a silent eternal wave of next new nookie. or so I've heard. nookie is a poor word, you might as well say cookie. I want to be loyal but lust is my lacquer, not my list. a lust list is human, a hannibal is a war criminal. you have no idea the rage which boils in the head, a good rage which broils bros and beer brats and seeks seed and sanity. we come where we're not invited, and rightly get punished for it. we need to get off or we'll die. release is not the same as relaxation. or a Ricola. not everyone has a torn ticket to the party on the penthouse level. I want to make nice, play platonic, have girl friends. what is this drive which turns civilized beings into animals?...

THE TRAGEDY OF TREES (MOMS) the bum is no longer at the corner of the intersection. the bum is replaced with me. the dog is gone forever, hopefully in a home. the pink house is shuttered. I am free for the first time, and all that that entails. indeed my Walden warrior, what a wonderful miracle it would be if we could see with each others' eyes. even for an instant. with the whole forest at my disposal, I embark on my second self-imposed exile, hoping to document rare birds in my notebook. ah to be a bird. may a rumble jolt me back into the jungle, excite my native senses, make me worth again that life is worth. I jot with the eraser and draw with the pen. of course my first encounter comes at an abandoned campfire smoldering the remnants off tree bark. the aspen quakes as it pantomimes its pando. the blaze feeds the steam where a japanese salamander squirms. this is the water I will use. I fit the majestic snake into my fist and shape him into my body shape until the blood is purple and we are one. I swim around to any destination my imagination remembers. soon it starts squeezing out, the royal purple paste of ube halaya. this is how kings of their domain roll...

BES FRAN (DOG YEARS) they ask me if I hurt. and muffle laughs about catching the license-plate number of that scooter. as the moped muffler stands there, running in a circle, dead. as if there's a net for such things. I feel no pain, I hear no cold, I start humming that Sawano song. they think me delirious and grab me by the ankles from the scene, pulling my leg, dragging me away from the action. the feeling blocks my thinking. the feeling in me. they have the wrong Boy Scout patch on, it should be sewn into their heart. I can still walk. I don't trust people's smiles anymore, I can walk. I need to take off this commotion. that's one thing I learned from last time, never go out wearing a sweater, you'll only take it off and have to wear it round your waist like a dolt. in the triangular paper cups they offered me I swim to my next destination, across the highway to the street with no name. till the money came in. they're setting up something over there, blue planks in the brown grass, temporary stage. I never used to go over there, never crossed via there, there was always that smelly scary man there hunched in his hell lying down on the road praying for the sun to take his scruffy mouth away. he hated asking strangers for shit more than he hated being a stranger. it's one thing to be homeless, another to be hopeless...

AGITATOR it has to be a big rain. a rain which starts in a secret pool above Obec's north canton filtering down the brown canyon through red exposed electrical wire messing global masses. it has to be big enough to swim in to escape. see man people don't know about puddles. you can dive into them and they take you to where you always wanted to be. they are my personal streams. better than dreaming about chiflon in my ringed bathtub drowning my sorrows with dirty non-bath-bombed water, dunking my head cos the showerhead is busted. I wanted to make sprouted bread but it's too hot. I wanted to take my shirt off but I'm too ashamed of my inner scars. I live in the Village but it's really the Vault. in the hills protected from the world but exposed to the harsh sun. if my abode was aspirational and made of the local trees and bark I could camouflage my crazy. as it is the soft lumber and budwood are warping. I need an environmental edifice, but it starts with one's own body...

a little of Violetta Vinaigrette gets into Wojceich's mouth. the scene is a massacre and there's a permanent brown stain in the floor cresting the blast radius in crust. Ellerbee: "is everyone okay? this is the last straw. it's different when you see it with your own pimple eyes. that poor child, never lived, we'll never know what kind of adult bear he would have been." Woj: "wet picnic-basket weaver." Marco Polo: "smoker." the Emperor: "cruiser." Elle: "or stacker. and poor Vi, I was jealous of her glamorous lifestyle and good looks." Woj: "she tastes good." Elle, incensed: "did you sleep with her?!" Woj: "no! I couldn't find a mattress." Elle: "I will be a sane squirrel going forward. an administrator, not a spy, the adult in the room who will bring all the kingdoms together. I will not be examining the suicide vest. no animal should have to suffer for profit." the Emperor: "you're right. this is a mess. the body guts will never get out of my gold walls. I hereby declare ALL WAR IS OVER FOREVER." Woj: "you sure they heard you there, big guy?" the Emperor: "they heard. and now to facebook close and sale. fill your bottle with my prized soy sauce over here." he opens up the third door to the grand soy-sauce fountain which keeps the inside palace nice and cool and sticky...

"how can you be sad when others have it worse than you?" replies the Emperor, scratching his knees. Ellerbee: "yeah! wait what? that's my line." Emperor: "I was talking about me. I have this ultimate secret garden everyone knows about. you'd think it'd be a pillow fort, source of commodity, but I'm losing cash on the deal. the property is useless till we get rid of the wild beast rampaging all up in it destroying my precious dekopon crop." Elle: "war is useless. it never works. it merely redraws the lines till they get so tangled the chaos causes confusion and carelessness. it doesn't work cos we are all one animal." Emperor: "without war there is no commerce. what say you there? change my mind, stand up for your race!" Wojceich: "nah, I'm too anxious about my lot in life." Emperor: "stroll my immense Garden grounds and become depressed." Marco Polo enters now cracking through the heavy yellow porcelain doors. Marco: "sir, everybody, I am ashamed of my past actions. but I will make it up. to the world and to my country, which is my world. I have traveled the entire world on foot and have returned with a new perspective..."

the annual elephant migration was canceled because of the war. Wojceich stands at the foot of the palace with his pastel painting dropping in his hand. he has seen his love Ellerbee fly off to parts unknown. Woj: "did you guys at least make out? get the drop on the shipment?" Trinity: "not exactly. we're guarding this toxic stuff, we can't use it. we need to find an alternative." Woj: "guys, guys, we're losing the plot here. this is turning into mission creep. and street creep. I need to get back to nature to clear my head. we need to find the soy sauce in the one and only bottle for Scallion or at least fill it with a suitable replacement. hey you, get off her." Marco Polo: "leave me alone, I'm enjoying my spoils." Woj: "your newfound popularity is just Balsa & Mick's soggy seconds, these soldier groupies are fickle and only love a winner." Marco: "jealous? I need someones after you stole my bitch. Italy is losing ground, we need someone to give it a swift kick in the pants with a boot. we need a win. we need money!" Woj: "just not cash. fine, whatever, do what you want. here is where the team fractures. I'm going off to find love. I'll be in nowhere in the middle, making paratha and eating ghazal and writing ghazal. see you a-square..." Trinity: "he killed a man." Woj: "whoa..."

the Dressing Dance was gonna be big this year. but before, Wojceich was in a dance. Stromboli had eaten all his cash. Woj: "you know that isn't my money. I'll never get graced with a Grace lay now. did I say that out loud?" Strom socks him one good and says: "disgrace. that woman was trying to teach you something." Strom chews the cud down and removes the wad of paper trail from his mouth, balls it into a new sheet of the magic paper. Woj: "uh, tanks...for everything." Strom: "see, funny man? you have magic paper now. draw on it with magic pastel and get what you deeply want. cash is messy. in my mouth." Woj: "where's the pastel stick?" Strom: "up your butt. wanna get away?" and with that, Strom and his clowns exit laughing. all except one straggler. clown: "psst. hey buddy, got the scoop on the pastel." Woj: "ahhhh, you frightened me. you can talk? why do you have a red ring around your eye?" clown: "that is so passé. cos I'm a clown not cos I'm tired. you're not a cop, right? don't answer that, it doesn't matter anymore. it's going down tonight at the Dressing Dance. a big trade deal..."

"call me Shirley," says Shirley. "bye bitchboy," says Wojceich. Shirley: "drat. missed an opportunity for the joke." Marco Polo steps back into the Subway, which isn't an easy thing to do. Marco: "sir, you have a valuable commodity here. I'm not here to edge in on your turf, I hate edges, save to say it's a wonder why you live in such squalor." Shirley: "the lettuce? no it's not maryjane, it's just cut weird into those serrated pieces. no other place does lettuce like this." outside, the gang regroups and gags on the air. Woj: "the air's supposed to be salty, not sweet." Marco: "what's our next move? the note indicates my love could be here in the present." Trinity: "or she could have sent it from the past." Woj senses an opportunity like a spider. Woj: "why don't you three visit the Basilica and see if old Scallion can't zap you. the ornithopter was destroyed at the past pool so it looks like we're walking." Woj runs. around the corner. Trinity: "the ornithopter's fine, I just parked it out back." Woj: "this just happened now in the timelines. bye bitch, I mean female cat." Woj turns a corner and jumps in the cockpit of the ornithopter gently knocking up against the Venetian street waves. he rocks back and forth like a baby with a new shiny object. Woj: "let's see, these controls control me. which button do I push?" he decides on pulling the lever marked P. Woj: "PUSSY POWER!!!..."

"my mouth hurts," says Marco Polo. "sorry," says Wojceich, "uh, look up there! even though I can't see from all the glare." Marco sets eyes on his love Ellerbee. Marco: "amore, amore, I'd know you anywhere. from your scent." Elle from her school balcony quickly predicts the damsel dilemma below. Elle: "uh-oh. not a good situation for a squirrel." she decides to jump...and she flies away! Elle: "I never knew I had these wings!" MEANWHILE: Trinity: "you saw that was Woj's wife, right?" me: *nods and shakes head* Trinity: "just cat checking." Marco: "from all the sweets on my teeth. I need more now that my love has flown the coop." Woj: "why so glum, chum?" Marco: "I just told you." Woj: "never fear, I'm here, we're in a forevership." Marco: "thanks?" Woj: "you're eating to mask the pain. take off your heavy coat and drink this glass of milk. and you might want to dive without the coat next time for better scores." Marco: "the coat is not mine. I stole it instead of a loaf of bread. I'm a thief and a turncoat." Woj: "here. the milk will cool your molars." Marco drinks it, coughs, and regurgitates it all over his coat. Woj: "well, that's kind of like sex..."

"you were being serious?" says Scallion, "you weren't kidding? you are that new fool's friends? he isn't paying you?" Trinity smiles. I purr. Scallion: "very well. take this chicken ciao bella and capote along for him, I hear that Venice was colder in the past." we arrive to a Venice of the past that looks very much like the present. Trinity: "he gave me this garment instead of a lispy crime book." me: "I thought it would be snowing." far from it, there is such intense heat village headaches turn into town migraines, grass wilts brown, and the chlorine sludges right off the water. Trinity: "I spot him! should we help?" Wojceich is lying by a pool unconscious. the administration thinks he's a former athlete and does nothing, save for leaving with the warning spoken loudly, "please don't piss in the piscina." me: "let's step away and stay out of it like I usually do and see if we don't cause any more damage. to the timeline I mean."...

the best Chinese food is in Italy. that's just a fact. the question is how. an empty stomach and broken heart will shed light. the tastiest trattoria in town was Yancan no question, everyone knew this. set against the far left bank of the Grand Canal, Venice's only seventeen-star restaurant catered to townie and tourist alike. foodies could spy the big beauty of the landscape without getting wet. the head chef Martino was notorious for his insanely-thin cuts. he was a mystery who kept in the shadows and let his julienned peppers do his talking. here we find Wojceich who really had to drag his feet to get here. he sits al fresco on the far left table alone chowing down a plate of mein with his greasy hands. he sucks his fingers clean and hides his shamey face in the buried bowl of oodles of noodles. ten full water glasses are beside him. "at least use the chopsticks," says a voice. Woj: "who's there? it's polite to slurp." voice: "you're still a human. you should know this, your name is Wok"...

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