This is a mad-capped, in-the-tradition-of-modern-art depiction of a notice I received from my bank, Wells Fargo, telling me that my account had, imagine, been inexplicably compromised, but through the bank’s humble, heroic and unremunerated efforts, no one was able to pilfer from me the $4.27 I keep in my checking account, so that I might feel secure.
Yasushi Akashi Does Not Wear a Brassiere, Either She disappeared real quick in her braless Pink Outfit now she reappears like a helicopter and passing me by Without existential malaise no no Prozac so Young in the glory of an April cruel cruel April Morning I gasp at the nearest Mausoleum. She would be […]
“Sip coffee, my distant girlfriend, the aphrodisiac from God who made this entire profane menagerie.” Poetry by Tim Ruane
The brassiere strap She wore the old Cleopatra longing for Her stud lover brassiere strap true love visible out to The left of her sleeveless black Elizabeth Taylor so seductive blouse against her untanned in July White man’s skin longing to be pinking sheared Slowly amor, slowly amor. At a pleasant forty-five degree angle […]
Soon a manager Bulbous watermelon butt another obese American Working in Starbuck’s for $7.25 an hour The civilization shall fall like the Roman Empire’s Emperor to Al Qaeda if we stop fighting In Afghanistan and somewhere in Africa Where the vermin fornicate at night in their odd Indian chief turbans and reproduce more Of […]