solace

comes in many forms

it is rather dependent upon the person

isnt it

ones trash anothers treasure

it comes from a deep secret place

it wasnt a fancy one

formed white plastic    

                           stained  he could wash it all he wanted  but the stains were set

they were set the moment they were made                                                     like scars

dull white plastic

it wasnt expensive  he wouldnt buy something expensive

something doesnt have to be expensive to do a real good job   

                                                                                                           a good thought

unremarkable  though one rarely heeded these days when a flush of green cash

supposedly

bought the best     or

was pilfered elegantly  one more sucker born mewling and balling

it had been made in-country once

it was made far better then

forged by a resilient pride

the pride attached to its manufacturing

a pride that rose again when it was found on store shelves

flushed with pride when it was found in a friends house or apartment

pride  tactile and effervescent 

he liked it best when it was smoking

aromatic steam emitting from vents in its flat crown

swirling

it made him think of himself when things were coming at him too fast  when his brain

wasnt able to keep pace with his thoughts and inspirations  when his hands were far

too slow too illegitimate to capture with pen and paper all the scenes and images and

conversations   

           soliloquies desperate

                         desperate prayers   his brain was supposed to be a delimiting organ 

funneling all his transactions into manageable parcels  Get in line  Take a number  and

the smoke the steam

                                    were the riots in his head

externalized

vapour  feathers  waves  lace  spiderwebs  ganglia    the erratic yellow trembling tips of

fire

solace comes in many forms

1325,  Friday,  26  7. 13

inside America

                                                                          a far different America than he grew up in

a culture of death was born and persists

parents dress their babies and children in camouflage

or outfits decorated with skulls

he was puzzled                                                            

                                                                                     they did not notice what he noticed

the skulls

white bared bones

laced in red flames

grinning lurid

or sadistic

eyeballs

suspended on nothing

stare from their sockets

he read widely 

things found their way into his hands

for instance  anthropology 

there are three human races  

the Negroid Mongoloid and Caucasoid

                                                    Black Asian and White  for those who avoid –oid words

their skulls are specific

and very different from one another

his notice was

first and foremost to American parents 

then to a remaining share of other Americans who buy and wear clothing garments

tchotchkes you-name-it

that sport skulls

the skulls advertised

are Caucasoid-shaped

hard not to wonder if this 9/11 born-and-bred popular death culture isnt suggesting 

something

that maybe Whitey

ought to pay attention to

1753,  Saturday,  15  2. 14

Dear Misandrist

he sat alone                                                                                                                         

at a solid whiteoak library table that seated eight                                                                       spread out before him were old advice columns and gossipandgiggle ditties

                                                                                                              a breeze came in 

through the screens  tickling the slats  his table  quietly  restlessly  rustled

                                                                                                          sounding like autumn

the newspapers and magazines smelled like late autumn leaves on an unraked lawn

Dear Misandrist:

I am writing for your advice.

My friend Wally . . .

                                            it was written with a steady hand in clean clear penmanship

over his shoulder a friend leaned in  who else could get that close   he looked  and read

                                                                                                                                     

                                                                                                                                     --  Ah 

I couldnt help but notice

he rolled on his hip and looked up into his face   -- You couldnt . . . . help . . . . but notice 

Youre lookin over my shoulder

--  Yeah well  But thats not the point

--  Lookin over my shoulder  Not the point

--  No  Dear Misandrist

--  Youre lookin over my shoulder

--  You got this stuff spread out all around you

   

     . . . . . . . . .

--  My point IS  Youre obvious  In the library  Nobodys as exposed as you

he sat back in his laddered chair

took it in 

--  Good point

--  And advice columns  Dear Misandrist

--  Yeah  Ever wonder what their history was the need was whod write in why write in what authority was theirs to offer advice that it should be heeded

--  No

--  It occurred to me 

--  Obviously 

--  Agony columns  In England agony aunts  Back to the 1800s

--  Didnt know that 

--  Something huh

--  Something       Whats with Dear Misandrist Whos Wally

--  Playing with it  Think Im tryin to offset misogynists  Dear Misogynist doesnt have the same ring as Dear Misandrist  or my rue or angst  Some ugly pricks out there pulling down a lot of men with their big lousy mouths  Thought itd be a great idea for a column

--  And your authority

--  My authority  Im on the flip side of the same coin a different mint however

--  Whats Wally get out of this

--  Wally   Wally B Caribou  From Minnesota  He outed as a stand up guy

--  You Wally

--  Could be  Figure Id posit him  maybe a hypothetical  and run at the mouth  I imagine whod write in why write in runs along the same vein as reality shmucks these days  wannabe stars  starspangled celebrities  Were wobbling on our axes  Figure a push in the opposite direction couldnt hurt  Is warranted

--  Hmm I apologize  I was inappropriate coming up over your shoulder

--  Apologeez accepted  smiling

shakes his head   --  If you dont mind lemme know how it goes

--  Could always write in  Dear Misandrist

--  Could

he departed

a slight breeze continued at the screens ruffling the pages 

                                                                                  hackles and feathers had gone flat

Dear Misandrist:

I am writing for your advice.

My friend Wally is sickened by overt misogynists who seemingly take their place, or believe it is conferred, by pious Christian words plied in churches and at the behest and authority of elder churchmen.

He believes it is fundamentalist ignorance, the belief it is God’s Word. And their women are chaste, browbeat, or worse to comply. East or West. It is the same.

                                                                                                               

                                                                              

                                                                              the ink still wet  as thought  shimmered

1645,  Wednesday,  19  2. 14