Preface

This collection describes my development over the past two years, tracing a shift from conventional meditations (“EVENT”) to radical experiments (“SOUND”) to idiosyncratic narratives (“TWINK”). I hesitate to call this development “progress,” insofar as that implies the newer ones are better. But I do see it as a progress of the Hegelian sort, with a thesis (“EVENT”), antithesis (“SOUND”...

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tongue curling with concentration twink forces a final errant note from the keys sunday evening self
instruction silence in the hallway massaging its brow searching his thick book for a thrilling little ditty twink hears a familiar throat clear at the door i’m sorry twink states stretching his fingers the maestro is no longer taking requests

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whine all you want ramsey shouts over her shoulder we’re going to the goddam top dawn nearly trail
gnarly breath bursting from mouths in clouds crunching his way up the final few feet twink wheezes shivers and beholds the great sight soak it up warns ramsey poised for descent we have a lake to reach by noon

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nose completely picked twink figures it’s time for another nap balmy day gentle breezes barking and bubbles adrift in the park counting pelicans one by one as they glide over waves in his mind twink notices a tiny tongue
bathing the tips of his toes it’s your birthday twink reminds himself you can wiggle them a bit

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shoveling salsa onto a well salted chip twink taunts his hunger with an unrequired pause windless day wisdomless wandering sunlight angling though the windows like blades munching slowly with maximum noise twink reads the back of a frail teen’s shirt well fuck you too twink thinks with a smile while wondering what it says on the front

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as rubber gloved ramsey scrubs his plate twink lets it out another notch mellow sunset fireflies
flickering cathedral bells tinkling gaily in the distance opening the paper with an authoritative snap twink crosses his legs sighs and puffs his pipe the only thing missing from this dream twink dreams is some coffee and a slice of pie

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crisp breath sucked momentously through his nose twink begins the semiannual jog wine colored morning waves gently peeling wind yawning to life in the west heaving his soaking body down the shoe smacked path twink notices a plucky terrier trotting effortlessly at his side i twink wheezes have nothing twink wheezes to say twink wheezes to you

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a wave awash at his ankles twink stops so the sandcrabs can tickle his soles late summer early afternoon messages littered all over the sky stepping gingerly from one footprint to the next twink smiles and recites his
favorite of the day marry me kevin the plane’s banner had read or i’m going to texas with tom

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passing a pair of headphoned joggers twink winks and holds his breath sprinklers hissing papers landing darkness grudgingly giving way sleepless boozy i am the black cat to the black cat twink hoists an orange traffic cone to his lips there is something i am supposed to shout twink shouts and i don’t think this is it

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sucking chocolate sauce from his fingers twink steps unwittingly into a city bus’s path grapefruit sun sherbert sky clouds sliding by in scoops of vanilla yanked to the sidewalk by the scruff of his shirt twink feels the soul shark go blowing past now that says the stranger releasing twink’s collar is what they call a lesson

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gazing westward through a pioneer squint twink guides the sinking sun with a finger beach emptying sand cooling surfers bobbing in the surfless sea having pressed the final bit down with his palm twink dusts his hands rises and takes a few bows it’s beer time announces twink heading east the moon can take care of itself

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daddy needs a new pair of flipflops twink scans his wrinkled program for a winner dog track dollar beers kids squealing in an inflatable dragon sneaking a whiff of his felt tipped pen twink circles his pick nods and heads to the window in the ninth twink tells a bespectacled walrus twenty on spanish dan to win

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squeezed between a blonde and a trio of bears twink orders two rums from the devil webs stretching lights strobing blood streaking down vampire chins worming through the throng with a dagger in his teeth twink returns at last to his wench smile says ramsey pulling a pen from her cleavage it’s time to reblacken that tooth

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peering into his always empty fridge twink hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmms and departs for a sandwich pockets jingling stomach growling drips gathering into drops on his brow arriving at the dark but should be open deli twink finds the word sorry taped to the door friend twink scrawls on the note in reply you do what you got to do

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still swelling with reacquired vim twink stays till the end of the credits mind blazing eyes shining chest flooding with the heart’s hottest stuff humming his rendition of the film’s stirring score twink pushes a door squints
and rejoins the noise much love in this flock twink silently states and much strangeness that need not be explained

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determined to determine his destiny’s course twink searches his couch for a quarter hollow morning howling spirits the cupboards overflowing with overfamiliar food slapping the flipped coin onto the back of his hand twink shuts his eyes gulps and takes a deep breath heads i keep doing what i’m doing twink proclaims tails and i flip again

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exiting the serpent house with a shudder twink heads the simian way lions sleeping tigers sleeping
bears chugging gallons of honey in dreams bypassing a heap ofsnoozing gorillas twink beholds a
one armed gibbon go go gadgeting on his gym now you twink declares poking his finger against the glass are most certainly earning your food

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