Thursday, August 5, 2021

Holy Nuns of the Erectile Dysfunction Committee

All work is fraudulent
I suggested to my boss' boss' boss today that perhaps sending required forms to a box instead of a long blind-copied uphill freight train toting unsortable replies might be a better option, the total reply (this is true but I can't show you the email and you just have to trust I'm not psyoping you): Upload your forms to the Box folder just shared with you
My boss' boss' boss' staff *must* have suggested box to boss' boss' boss, yes? I seize fine metaphors where I can, and my damned Work Dam spigots I'm gradually untapping not because I worry about breaking confidentiality (I'm nobody, and know nothing beyond what I'm told, what I hear, what I observe, what I guess), or that oyahay axasays will labberbay to rovostpay, but because the bad deferred maintanance of structure (would have happened without plague) plus the lack of money they wouldn't have spent on delayed maintenance anyway (because of the plague) plus deliberate attrition of us ants, my friend's Deb's annual $48K bankrupting you fucks, you buy a desperate her out with a threat disguised as a bribe, what are they going to do, fire me? Boss' boss' boss probably said no to box because boss' boss' boss has no idea how to drive a manual transmission bus, and, motherfucker, I'm not about to drive a bus now much less do what staff did, spelled staph to my boss and my boss' boss and boss' boss' boss, any way it's a lusterfuckcay, our royalty dopes, our loyalty more broke than is generally known.
Two kinds of pride in American politics
A sensitivity to the invisible
Dreaming a BlancFinding a home in the ruins of modernism
By force I've reengaged post-Maine to work, fine metaphors abound it's true and the dysfunction of my masters in this building and their arrogant defiance at revelations of their gross dysfunction mirrors the arrogant defiance of our shitlords at revelations of their dysfunction in the age of kayfabe, I am not purposely not motherfucking Democrats and motherfucking crackers and their whisperers to not motherfucking Democrats and motherfucking crackers and their whisperers, I am not motherfucking Democrats and motherfucking crackers and their whisperers because you know all about motherfucking Democrats and motherfucking crackers and their whisperers and don't need me to tell you about motherfucking Democrats and motherfucking crackers and their whisperers when fine real life metaphors serve well and require venting, Life in the Kayfabe Be Broken and Our Shitlords Are Mining Broken Kayfabe Like They Wish They Broke It Before Ocene


Christopher Soto

Dear Mother // I apologize for these instructions regarding
my belated death // but police keep pestering parents on

where to shake their child’s ashes // fuck that // Dance &
laugh my ashes into the volcanoes [volcanoes look like Earth’s

pimples // about to burst] Dear Mother // I hope neither of
us dies but rather // we drift into alzheimers together like

Abuela years ago // We can walk out of the house in our
bathrobes // waving at police cars & thinking they’re taxis

taking fathers home // Dear Mother I haven’t told you but
bombs in Chelsea were so close to me last fall // I fell &

prayed to Holy Nuns of the Erectile Dysfunction Committee
but still // I’ll never understand why // God made something

so beautiful as the sun // on the ridge // to be blinding
Dear Mother // I’ve been much too slow to say thank you

The word twisted on my tongue // I stutter to say th-thanks!!
& maybe it’s my accent // unable to pronounce refrigrator

En español // refrigerador // As if our language was a child
who wet the bed from being tickled too much // & if we only

speak one language // can we name her Joy // Dear Mother
I’ve read the credit report // & America fiscally sponsored the

Civil War in El Salvador // where men had genitals cut off
stuffed into their mouths // their heads decapitated & placed

between their legs // Tio saw all his friends // students slumped
on chain link fences // after marching outside the university

As a child // I never thought how difficult it must’ve been to
pick the heads of daisies with me // by the swimming pool

Each petal pulled // I’d recite // he loves me // he loves me not
God must // in the most bloated nights // the fullest nights

God must’ve known // you’d follow me outside “heaven’s gates”
What an oxymoron // There must be a heaven that’s boundless &

unbridled // where we can seek asylum // Dear Mother // please
teach me how to hold the sorrow // without losing my arms

1 comment:

  1. In my little slice of the healthcare jungle, we've lost 11 people in the past 16 months: retirement; other job / same company; other job elsewhere. You'd think someone in the upper levels, in The Castle, would ask: Forwhy so many subcreatures run away from us? Are the managers being too managery? Not enough?" But, guess not! There will be no backfill -- and, those of us left must meet all productivity levels. I'd retire, but my bright new dental adventure will cost $75K, so guess not! And, I was just moved to a new role -- one which should require a title change and a pay bumpo, but guess not! "Maybe in a year or so we can think about that" -- as I move further into my early 70's. Right. Meanwhile, someone is having their leg amputated in Gaza City and I whine with my First World issues. Go Figure.