Saturday Yes-No-Yes

no sat between two yes. looking ahead and then sheepishly, thinking both had been sufficiently distracted - no exaggeratedly sneezing - it looked at both quickly. and then just as quickly back. for no saw in an instant they were identical: not just the two yes, but all three of them. and this disturbed no to the core, always believing there was only one no. which the yes already knew: what no knew the yes always, always knew, because no's memory was dead: following each, to no it seemed anyway, of no's miraculous discoveries followed an instant forgetting. and so the yes always, always knew what no knew. all three never budging an inch from their bench for some 250 years. for some 250 years they sat side-by-side, so there was nothing no knew the yes didn't. what separated them was no was alone, and thus always forgot, having no-one to confer with, no-one to agree with, no-one to argue with. but the yes being two chatted at each drop of a hat - which no did constantly when sneezing - and so always, always remembered. until no-one returned that is: having conferred, agreed, and argued with no for some 250 years, no-one forced itself back on the bench. next to yes

FriErDay

no; it's no good. it's gone. [what did he say?] (it's gone I think. gone. yes.) yes: I think it's gone. all those years I had it and now - nothing. [now he's saying nothing.] (nothing?) [yes: doesn't look good. he's looking down.] I find myself looking down now. seems the ground is the place for me now. the future once was the distance, but now it's down there. [he's definitely looking down.] (at what?) [at the ground.] (at the ground?) [yes; just the ground: isn't moving a muscle.] now I've no reason to move at all. I just, stand - ground at my feet's the future now. where else is there to go? (can you hear what he's saying?) [something about where else is there to go.] (oh: shall we show him?

Thursday-Power Pissing

all the street-gutters are full with rain.... it dives down and rushes with a thrash-gushing down-sound. into dark concrete mouths all wet-get. from which I hear this speech, eery-hiss and oily: see it ascend through words the new skyscraper tomorrow; hear it hum through words on buses and trains "we make you; and we carve you out. we the medical companies and building companies, we the car company, money and language company, and the mind companies, the body companies...: we make you; we made you: we give you scripts: give you images, to shape and assure your moves, fill your dreams: we give you costumes, and stages too - we call them fashion, the bar, the mall - even give you belief, and challenges, escape - family, house, and holiday. all we want is your flesh a little while and bones; that you keep paying our bills; and that you forget all this about soul, and that you sit when we say, you stand when we say, and you keep quiet until the next you comes along." it was like a pissing sound

Wednesday Wrote-Anna

I knew Anna when she knew me. but I know Anna now. and what I know now isn't what it was. Anna was unlike the what she's becoming; she was amongst the all of the excitement-years of study and travel, purchases and children and love, of having the required, and being the required. she was the story. she lived the line of words. but under these, the page: always white they say. until now. the off-white's showing through she's telling me, though not in so many words. there in the mirror; in the kid's voices too she says. although she won't tell Leonard, his voice the crumpled page now. Anna's finding Anna writ large across the page these days, in letters the decades tried cover. letters we once spoke. letters spelling her name again. so she sits at her table unable to write

TuesNothing-EscapeDay

here in this nothing-escape: all there is is size, area, a long rod of brass and that feeling you get before words come. no - forget it. here in the nothing escape is a hallway: not too long but long enough that you can't see the end, so you have to imagine the end. until you realize the end is something like an end, so imagining is replaced by memory. no - this won't do either. here, in the nothing-escape, are words: scraps of air and day. a bit of woman here; bit of regret there; a hope a vision a sound. all day's cuts molded to letters forming words begging all that happened to say Yes, the words are right, it actually happened as they say, just before what actually happened alights through what is happening now and then out into the what will happen, through yet another nothing-escape

MonPressDayUre

cut me a swastika hole she says. cut it like you was hungry she says. get on your knees and gouge! I held the cutter she'd bought me; I stared at her and her hole on the floor; stared at the cutter and felt her shouts expanding my ears. and then I looked over the edge - I saw myself there with the cutter and her on the floor. I could see I was a meter from her and the hole, and so I shouted to me to get on with it: do as she says, I shout to me, nauseated by the impending mess:- because I was curious what I might do under peer-pressure

Sunday Meat

and. there is no me. there is just the barest I: a glow held by a scatter of details. me is of the mirror. me is of the name-badge. me is of the family album. I? I is the turning of eyes in response to the visual. The moving of the head to follow an odor. The moving of the feet through attraction attuned by the earth. I is shaping need; I is need-moved meat; I is the momentary accumulation of a here and now becoming a there and then. I is here and now, there and then, a gone, a was, a coming site of bliss, perhaps