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Sometimes it bruises.
And sometimes it doesn’t.
Barbosa liked the taste of her.
Especially her ears
and the side of her neck.
And he knew she liked the taste of him,
even sweaty after the sun got through with them.
Covering her with hickies,
not from malice but excitement.
Wanting to eat her up from top to bottom.
The German beach club owner warned her,
“Be careful of that young man.”
Up to the knees
in the smell and lasting of it.
We, warriors, laughing
until someone caught a mouthful.
Then, not because we were grown,
but because love’s the Viking maker.
It becomes more desperate then play.
A life or death struggle to avenge impulses.
You will rue the day
you dove into these mud flats.
Rue the day ’til the sun exhausts us.
It’s always been like this.
You hit me when I’m happy
and most vulnerable.
I’ll make you rue the day, damn it.
You’ll have mud coming out your pores
and we’ll laugh again completely.
Open window in mid-December,
wind and light snow blowing in.
Steam radiator hissing.
Seated on her bed in a tee shirt and pajama bottoms.
Comfortable in the cold night.
In command, working the phone.
“Ok, enough. Goodbye”
“Had to shed him” she said,
matter of factly.
Jack shivered slightly,
wondering when it would be his turn in the barrel.
“Don’t worry” she said,
sensing his trepidation.
Carmine had an idea
after watching an old reel
of men who leer.
His phone was attacked by spam
and it occurred to him
that someone was orchestrating this.
There were detailed maps, somewhere.
He heard peels of laughter
coming from his neighbor’s apartment.
It was the tar rats
peeking out from the asphalt below.
Sitting on a high wire.
The ring leader, Heavy,
munching on a finch.
Just another day in paradise.
Jill, Heavy’s friend lady, was feeling
slighted because he was ignoring her.
Meanwhile his henchmen, Maurice and Bilko,
“Look at her, looking all dejected.
The boss has got to eat.”
“He eats first, everyone knows that.”
“Did you hear those parrots?”
“Yeah, what a racket.”
Another strange AI caption. I liked the idea of these four ravens being extraterrestrials.
Little concrete angel
oddly life like.
Caught sitting and
Turned to stone.
Time has chipped away
But has not diminished
his innocence or kindness.
he’s nothing more
then sand, cement and stones
molded into something
She already got the land,
and the orange crystal punch bowl
that Charlie, the mobster gave them.
And even though she kept the house
and land in the divorce,
T. was still indebted for the punch bowl.
(God only knows what payment for that debt will be.)
Instead of land, T. got:
the post office box,
and an apartment with a photography studio below.
So he photograph the land
he couldn’t have with her.
the ones that affirm life.
Is it garlic and olive oil?
Or garlic and time (thyme)?
You know what I meant.
With the knives it’s always
about the project.
Meat and vegetables or…?
How do we want to divide it?
The knife is the vehicle,the angle,
the geometry, the knowing of the key passages
that the knife just liberated.
Cooking is subversion.
Eating is the essence of life.
So, I was messing around on this app called Prisma that has some cool filters. They have recently introduced a new one with an AI program that analyzes your image and adds a caption.
Some of them are hilarious and it reveals something about how my mind wants to understand the data mind of this robot.
This was one of the funnier, more random ones. I guess wearing your hat too low around your eyes is a form of disobedience to the machine?
MR Stuik 2017
Well, I looked and ok, I’ll admit it,
I was looking for dental floss.
I admit it, my teeth are the
Be all and end all.
I will not put anything before them.
You know why?
I know people
Who have lost teeth
And others who
Give up their jaw for hardware
And you know what?
I’m putting teeth
Right up their with…