Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.8, p.1

Nine Figs in the Flapjack Chapter Eight, title page

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.32

Separated from its Rigid Harvest

Separated from its rigid harvest

atmospheric conditions are ideal,

now even lower than before

the old man moved with such precision,

even as the root system

rots and collapses,

once you begin to realize

that reason is flexible,

and my life begins in media res.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.31

I’ve Committed No Crime

I’ve committed no crime greater

than to come into existence,

supermellow,

our mutual cement,

protocol has been satisfied,

now the great lover proceeds to his

most important rendezvous.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7,p.30

World War II

World War II was actually fought

to delay the onslaught of television

for ten years

We eat rhubarb for the texture,

not for the psychic discontent

We shall name it

“The Child’s Discovery”

Worries over a world awash in weed.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.29

Only in an Urban Environment

Only in an urban environment

such as this my feelings don’t

come into it a diagram of

indefensible boredom

typical half-scissor

pendulum growing out of

German engineered meringue

locator and tubes of cursive

access, now to

properly debauch the sentinel.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.28

Scouting for Peanuts

Scouting for peanuts

in the dictionary of doom

no new information on

the disposable adoption

of the addenda avengergoods,

forthright expressions of

happiness, the helicopter

will photograph your

bikini in the boat.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.27

Loose Noble

Loose noble

the farmhouse

has its significant

repose and report—the

white milk is vanity

I thought it came with a

bus every time I go in

the hospital they steal

my things the bear

signs the check,

a recurring image.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.26

Instead the Institution

Instead the institution

its conglomerate of wool,

instant sole requirement

the pantomime of dull—

I’m trying to stay out of Jennifer’s way

crinkle-cut fries and a host of

soft palette debris instinctual

rugdust is eliminated

by a scorpion bath.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.25

The Collapsible Consolation

The collapsible consolation console

and honoraria

a prescient sheep is in order

they are mysteriously

aggrieved, red cylinder rolling

my puppet show, schooling

based on realistic expectations.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.24

Set Up with Boxes

Set up with boxes at the

instigation of the marmalade pan

a little screaming and croaking

goes a long way to the

mousedollop orchestra

he who sits in judgment

on the piewham grouse

blind stinkerboy a change

of webbing may be

permitted my medicine

parka’s tram.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.23

Mean-Looking Kid

Mean-looking kid

standing in the middle

of the road with a bullwhip

the gentleman’s dingdong

the peekaboo planet

in planning for ecstasy

buckskin gravity,

yeti has its halo

the pain track has been selected.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.22

Mean-Looking Kid

Mean-looking kid

standing in the middle

of the road with a bullwhip

the gentleman’s dingdong

the peekaboo planet

in planning for ecstasy

buckskin gravity,

yeti has its halo

the pain track has been selected.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.21

The Arab Attempts to Interact

The Arab attempts to interact

with the English lady based on

this poem, swan woman’s

tresses Santa tins

machinery kettle of

textiles feeling sorry

for the saucermen here

in Raccoonworld into

the fogbank.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.20

The Last, Easily

The last, easily upgradeable

not flushed cancellation

service—I never had the

pizza light on my car

no longer recognizable

as a penny, the boat,

however, has Precious

taters from the

matron say it again.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch. 7, p.19

Elf Range After

Elf range after

my thumb heals up

something smells

like blueberries a

hundred years before

me—intermeshed

fingers of hairs

inhuman highway duplicate

subset—nibble off the boat.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.18

Yam Rhapsody

Yam rhapsody

trying to gauge how bad

I’d feel if I hadn’t

taken any ibuprofen—

firearm unique, but for

how long?  The singular

metrics of his plight fatten,

there’s still time to get high.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.17

Irregular Dirt

Irregular dirt on the masthead

of the divine a smell

of toothpaste accompanies

his retreat iron compact

my father’s chewing tobacco

slowly steeping in the toilet bowl

an unregulated twist

antiquity freaks.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch. 7, p.16

Taidelai Tai Tidy Day

Taidelai tai (dai) tidy day

medicated abtolerance

the Pringles man has

really let himself go

it is the guesswork

that makes us human

a one-man revival

the last

emperor.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch. 7, p.15

Sharply-Held Banana

Sharply-held banana

inventor of the transcending

anchor hinge sympathy for

Kong the High One

commands fart-inducing

bioplexes scattering pennies

like chum

to catch Kerouac’s America.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.14

All the Different Kinds of Giraffes

All the different kinds of giraffes

a single number as

an absolute abstract

news agitation

faceless comrades in the

background of the video

hostage to sediment, I

anticipated his remarks

in the south spaghetti

night.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.13

Hence the Italian Title

Hence the Italian title

twenty diapers disappear

collective directive

fated alive now that

grandmother’s peak

has ended too early

these interdeflexible

gloves can only be good

at the pet store.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.12

Mooselight Combo

Mooselight combo

nothing unusual about

these curtains and then we

can set that bit up

I am festive, but not

firm, believer in hats

that anticlimactic popping

sound and finally he’s gone

the two faces subjective

on the weenocourt

I used to feel jealous of

people who could do the

Donald Duck voice.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.11

When the Shadows Touch

When the shadows touch

reflections in the shiny black surface

green and pallet to match

fantasy browsing this

is no soupbasket flyover

she smeared me with Tootsie Roll-

scented lip gloss and

I became angry.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.10

A Wave of Believable New Cyclones

A wave of believable new cyclones

large regenerated nightcrust

warthog went to school with envy

take advantage of the opportunity

to read to a dog

vomit of the gods

all the different kinds of carrots.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.9

The Absent Dandruff Scene

The absent dandruff scene

flash indeterminate luggage

across the sky a special

abacus is used to

concoct extemporaneous

lectures by the graphic

foodler black kitchenware

for timeless unease

a bovine rectal establishment.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.8

Important Pieces of Paper

Important pieces of paper

opiates by mail

we’re hiding equipment

inside a truck one day

his thumb fell off

at the Thirsty Arrow

and there was much debate

over whether children

should be allowed pacifiers.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.7

Should Teeth Be Luminous?

Should teeth be luminous?

The unauthorized dissemination

of hopeful information

all that milk spasm

the corn is ready and it’s

maximum dread

the crippled Jawa holding

her forearms out like

dead, flammable ears

they celebrate the old

joker out of context.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.6

Bloody Cigarettes

Bloody cigarettes

farmer’s lapse

bloody farmer’s epic

is girl going bathing and

drop Jimmy

what will we do with the money?

Subtitulada Spock’s

interminable egress

redress the regression.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.5

Poor Camisole

Poor camisole the

mnemonic taste of

lakewater in a cup

jet purpose a year

away from the grape

watercolors of Rod McKuen

men working in tree

the dream about the

local TV station where

volunteers dress as animals

and act out spontaneous plays.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.4

Interior Pockets

Interior pockets

imposing your will

on the dream divided

panties delegation but

no dump is forthcoming

or impending even

cake and Sprite initiatory

surface actor.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.3

I Was Distracted

I was distracted by my irregular heartbeat

and small town hypocrisy

triangular robot head

my intended

sweatpants no longer

play the piano

stormordered pigscout

figuring out the

netroskeleton.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.2

Famous Arithmetic

Famous arithmetic

smeared by follow unction

koala Monday photo-genesis

at fault idly

gentler interplanetary combo

encrusted with cubes

slurkis im digibalazal

new fabricators

open the toad.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.7, p.1

What is This Ten-Day Natural Secret?

What is this ten-day natural secret?

Let me introduce you to my friend the scholar

my fickle voice receiver hobosis of the blind

loyalty to the foam dot,

scissors uniquely suited to his

empty hands.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack, Chapter Seven title page

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.22

Countdown to Eel Feed

            Desperate to prove that he could handle the job, Winston entered the aquarial chamber alone.

            “These eels need dessert,” he decided, smiling as he recalled the age-old mnemonic device for distinguishing the spelling of “dessert” from “desert.”

            “Mmm, strawberry shortcake sounds good,” one of the eels remarked, propping its little head up on the side of the tank.

            “I was thinking of something more along the lines of graham crackers and peanut butter,” Winston replied.  His hands worked quickly; Mr. Erection might show up at any moment.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.21

Prioritous Diversions in Bag Form

            “As expected, I met Mr. Fleetmartin one more time before I left the country for good.  He had heard I was going to Germany, but knew nothing of my plans to purchase an old warehouse there.”  Nodwick paused, took a bite of his pansyloaf, and glanced towards the tiny bandstand in the corner where a fairly adept Peter Brötzmann imitator kept pace with the analogous rotor.

            “You sound a lot like me,” I interjected, continuing, “Although, of course I’ve never met Mr. Fleetmartin,” as Nodwick took up the narrative once again.

            “He told me plainly that he thought I was a fool.”

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.20

The Door Had Been Repainted So Many Times that the Lady Was Extremely Attractive

            The door in question led to Professor Amperscamp’s submarine.  In the early years the door had been green, but by the time of the Johnson administration the color had been changed to blue to reflect the contemporary emphasis the people’s advocate placed on anecdote, sanity, and calcium.  No one recalled exactly when the door became a bold coral pink, but when the prince’s brother-in-law was hustled through it to escape under the waves, McKenzie had just time enough to note the incongruity between that color and the hunted man’s masculine scarf, patterned as it was with charging Napoleonic era soldiers and brave colonials facing down foreign beasts.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.19

Teal Speed Glauben Sie Das?

            Arapahoo sat in the chair provided by the department store and watched his wife try on one dress after another.

            “What color is that?” he asked, wishing he had a magazine.

            “This?  This is teal.”

            Arapahoo raised his eyebrows.

            “So that’s teal.  Hmm.”  He nodded thoughtfully, rubbing his chin and imagining the magazine he would read.

            On the way home Arapahoo pedaled the bike while his wife stood in the basket, her tiny hands clutching a radish.  All of these elements were reflected in the graphic design of the magazine, while the text was exemplary of absurdist contrast, consisting mainly of first-person narratives of grizzly bear attacks.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.18

The John Bonham Prosecutorial Spaghetti

            Many years ago there was an Italian restaurant called Horse Lingerie’s that held a trivia night every Thursday.  Pankhurst Mann, a college student, lived in an apartment over the restaurant.  He could hear the questions being asked downstairs if he crawled behind his sofa and put his ear against the air vent.  One Thursday the thought occurred to him that it was redundant to say “air vent.”

            “After all,” he explained to his goldfish the next morning, “What other kind of vent is there?  Are there ‘poison gas vents?’” he chuckled.

            “Actually,” the goldfish replied, “On my planet we did have poison gas vents in many of the larger hotels.”

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.17

Lincoln Panties and Chef’s Bandanna

            My bowel movements were becoming rarer and more difficult.  Increasingly strenuous, pincer-like forces were needed to squeeze out even the most meager results.  After weeks of this torture, I finally consulted the German ambassador, Heimrad Sturm.  Calling upon him at his home in lovely Montreal, I found him painting a watercolor of the new Dodge Clumberall. 

            “Look at that,” I chuckled, pointing at the sloppy rendering of the steering wheel.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.16

Our Emblem Shall Be the Gorilla’s Outer Eye

            When first Indiffera and I decided to start our own club, I naturally thought that the greatest obstacle we would encounter would be my antisocial, near-misanthropic attitudes.  In practice, however, it proved to be the creation of the official uniform that caused us the most problems.  Looking back on it now, it seems silly that we even bothered with uniforms, given the amount of nudity that the club’s activities required.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.15

The Ergonomic Bomb

            Fun, in the form of legitimate grounds for appeal, was emblazoned on each bag of peaches that the temple produced.  Randy Abbott, the temple’s spokesman, chose one bag at random during the month of August (the same month Ian Fleming died) and placed within it a miniature copy of Hump and Stubble, a novel about sweaters and people who pontificate with their eyes closed.

            “I’ve always identified with the character of Egros, the distance between two classified ads.”

            While Moogh and Murphy gaped in confusion at Wort’s words, Preston burst into laughter.  He got the reference.  He had read about the book.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.14

Shampoo Vending Bakery

            The turrets of Moreverso Cigarette Machine were the scene of the Seven Hats’ nude frolic.  The participants and their guests, the Pens of Clickable Ease, chanted “cricket-based economy!” as they slid on bedroom slippers around a giant loaf of bread baked especially for this ceremony.

            “And that brings up a good point,” Master Suffering complained to his class.  “Where is the automobile in all of this?”  He held up his personally annotated copy of Strassman’s Wreckage of Model Sandwiches (one day to be published in its own right and subsequently established as the definitive edition for use in universities).

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.13

Stolen From Harbinger Control

            Panicking boat dwellers planted the corn variety known as Box Office Boner under the direction of Lord Dustmaker’s plenipotentiary, Chad Weezil.  An interesting fact about Chad: his mother had so desired that he enter the priesthood that she made him a little priest’s outfit, complete with a collar, when he was a child.  Of course, it became a play costume and, with the addition of an old rubber mask his uncle had ordered out of a comic book, transformed Chad into a stalker figure during his games and fun with the other neighborhood boys.

            “The day he rips the crotch in that suit is the day you’ve lost him forever,” muttered Chad’s father as he drank his whiskey one little sip at a time.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.12

The Tanks Have Been Cleared For the Stroboscopic Kneebrace

            “What kind of tanks are we talking about?” Mrs. Barasco, a pianistically trained classicist, required clarification as she installed a brass cap on Guilt Boy’s stomach.

            “Calm yourself,” the sage Murphren urged from his seat by the coat rack, from whence he oversaw the installation.  “These aren’t the motorized armored guns that the army uses to knock down old ladies’ houses.”

            Guilt Boy nervously nibbled on a bag of greasy Indian snacks.  Flickering forms filled his mind like fishes filing into a fungal folder, for Finland farts forever.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.11

I Would Describe My Bachelor’s Boyhood as Cheetahmurphic

            I was asked by the egg tractor eyelash what justification I had in using the term “cheetahmurphic.”   Of course, I've been confronted in this way before.  My handmade chapbooks and limited runs of illustrated pseudo-religious tracts have reached many more persons in the city than you would think.  Naturally, some of these people are too conservative to accept such work.  My usual response is to produce yet more of the same.  In this instance, however, I merely gathered a handful of oversized buttons and sewed them on Shawn Levy’s Porsche.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.10

Promulgate the Abstraction as an Interesting City Relief

            Masterson’s first job as a temp was passing out flyers on Akai Street.  He had a cold, it was raining, and he felt as miserable as he ever had in his life, perhaps worse.    

            “I’ve reached rock bottom,” he thought, pushing one of his flyers into the chest of a passerby.

            “At least in the darkest days of my childhood I didn’t have an adult’s wider awareness of just what a rotten position I’m in.”

            “Masterson?” a voice horrified him.  Who had recognized him?  “What are these you’re passing out?”

            It was OK.  It was just Mr. Bad Teeth, a neighbor whose life was not much better than his own.

            Masterson glanced at the bundle of papers.

            “I have no idea,” he admitted.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.9

Dire Image in its Own Resealable Slice

            “How’ll we know the subject?” one of the chunkier men asked.

            “Look for a particular silvery hue of whiteness to the man’s shoes,” French Comanche replied, looking at each man in turn.  He wore a fedora cocked at an angle more appropriate to jumping a long row of transfer trucks before a crowd of folks in Las Vegas.

            “A particular silver hue of whiteness?” Carl, the only one among them with any sense, questioned.

            “That’s what’s written on the card,” Comanche explained, holding up the grimy paper object from which he took his orders.

            Disgusted by the entire operation, Carl later warned me with a card of his own.

.

Nine Figs in the Flapjack ch.6, p.8

My Humanoid Franchise

            Once there had been public acknowledgement of the umbrocracy’s dominance over the earth funding became more easily available and I was able to establish my lumpy spacecraft factory.  This lumpy design was in keeping with my idea that biological forms were more conducive to human habitation in the long term, as would be the case in interstellar travel.  In addition, this kind of lumpy-looking ship was easier to produce than the angular ones favored by the hidebound military-industrial mindset that had dominated space exploration in the early days.

            However, that wasn’t my only business venture.  Through my contacts in South Carolina I was able to purchase a robotic companion store.  This dovetailed with the production of interstellar craft, as one always needs company on such long trips.

.