Tuche & Automaton

Thursday, May 24, 2007


Rain gossips underneath iron. Rain tastes the bicycle, watches it rust. Rain changes into iron. Buried cars are crushed by the weight of worms. Rain picture-shifts into an iron photo of my father.

Mange-riddled wolf compiles my father using a plague-box and creates a Scotch Western. Why did the stereo-glove ignore my glowing father? How come this iron rain flooded my father? His vehicle is its own logo.

Father Rain leaps! He leaps across the conduit and smokes a strange brown deposit. He laughs, then cycles home beneath a tourist. Father Rust objects. He eats a Hostess Rung Cake and slowly bursts. Father Rain decays!

Father Rust scores beneath the trash. This is a farce, he reckons. Why can’t I reach behind the microwave? Father Iron listens, then gestures. There is dust on his hands.

Ignore this line - it’s just a parody. A laughing peanut socket.

These booklets randomly document your father’s decline, they eventually told him. Sand him down, I say! Sand him down until only iron remains. Iron and rain.


At 9:30 AM, Blogger Sharm said...

so confused !

At 4:20 PM, Blogger XMP said...

hahaha dude I love this spot! linking you up stat muthafucka :<>


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