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we walk on the city and we write the new poetry. we used some trams to squash coins. they get longer the more you squash them – the more you squash them, they get longer.

less facetious than so-called reality (which is a generalisation nobody even uses any more, but being expected to be “realistic” is very familiar as well anyway).


keeping a facetious diary of the human crisis (pdf, side-stapled A4)


in three episodes.

a contemptible existence
in which the city
is your gymnasium.
contemptible because
unless you run
on the spot,
climb stairs
on the spot,
etc, you get

“one writes so as to bring fear into a determinate form and make it more bearable” :(((((((((((((((((((

You get more out of the web, you get more out of life.

“I guess we’ve both got it.”

at last, our full attention …

In the earphone words, slow and uncertain, formed: circular thoughts of no importance, fragments of the mysterious dream which she now dwelt in. How did it feel, he wondered, to be in half-life? He could never fathom it from what Ella told him; the basis of it, the experience of it, couldn’t really be transmitted. Gravity, she had told him, once; it begins not to affect you and you float, more and more. When half-life is over, she had said, I think you float out of the System, out into the stars. But she did not know either; she only wondered and conjectured. She did not, however, seem afraid. Or unhappy.

“the [ x ] in me will hide sometimes – to keep from being seen”

—dude, we should just move to the top of a mountain. spit down.

There is a dying worse than death, which consists in a loved one killing in themselves the image through which we lived in them. We “go out” in them. THIS CAN RESULT FROM RADIATION THAT WE GIVE OFF. Quietly, the petals close themselves.

—is that angel pointing a remote control towards the sky?
—it’s a broken off object?! or cell phone pic taking ya know?
—to the no future
—there’s only one left
—one ticket to the no arm present
—qst is who wants to go
—back to that same old place
—beneath the underdog

Animals Thirsting for Freedom

animals_coverelephant_attack_atfanimals thirsting for freedom (A4 booklet, pdf), december 2019. with apologies to the authors of animals thirsting for freedom – anti-speciesism from an anarchist perspective (des animaux assoiffés de liberté).

we put the electric scooter into the large plastic bin, (“dumpster”) all in the cover of darkness, cheerful, a saturday night feeling. creating problems for other people is an obvious source of pleasure. you don’t even have to be a person to get it.

psychic poems

an extract of psychic poems, in datableed issue ||||||||| , (issue nine); which are

“… assumed to be [poems written down by one person as dictation] from a signal another person transmits to them telepathically. To facilitate this process, a method of starting to write at pre-stipulated times, with the conscious intention both to send and receive a signal, was adopted. Within reason, non-coincident actual writing times were considered relatively unimportant, given the regularity of a writing routine – two times a week – possibly establishing a more constant, yet fluctuating transmission. Transmission and reception took place at terrestrially significant distance (Melbourne – Berlin), with associated non-telepathic communication sparse (e-mail). The relevance of these factors, and the “psychic” character of the writing, in the sense of “characterised by psychic gifts” (which neither writer personally claims) could then be discerned by comparing the corresponding poems. Alternatively, the writing could be used as source material for compositions that would contain traces of telepathically-transmitted signals, as is the case here.”