Morrison Bridge

suicide relief
line sign call:

1-800-888-5867
(1-800-888-jump)

why would you make your
logo a

leaf? leaves fall. far. could
have been worse.

(maybe a rock?) at
least the call

is toll (bridge!?!) free. charg-
es vary.

Crane: A Haiku

A construction crane
strained greatly to reach the stars
with a frost bit finger

weight/wait

I.

every
day

they
get much

heavier

II.

what a
great

philo
so

phy de
stroy

every
thing

to make
it

better

III.

breathe push
shrug

it up
-Wait--

to make
it

start burn
ing

Sonnet I

The night smelled of dirt and of a wet rain
And the moon hung low heavy with yellow.
Everything was coated with speechless silence
But if you listened closely you could hear:

A soft voice of leafy surf and curb shores.
The breeze nudged the lofty street lights and swam
in the odd night sea with the ghost bikes
that moved like ephemeral jellyfish.

Oh, the bikes were real: iron and rubber
but the riders were so otherworldly.
Souls draped in white robes of burning ether
blessed or Damned by a god or Satan

to pedal for all time (eternity).
Ethereal spokes turning on night's waters.

Fucking space suits

Do you know why in the old sci-fi movies, men from the future (or space aliens) always wear the same outfits? At first I just thought it was a uniform or something you know. Like an intergalactic janitor’s uniform with the name tag that reads, “hi my name is Zrtyi II.” But then it hit me, it’s not a uniform, it’s just that people from the future (or space aliens from an advance civilization) all dress the same. Doesn’t matter if you’re a pilot, janitor, cook, or homeless guy (although I wonder if poor peoples jumpsuits are a little less shiny) everybody wears the same clothes.

I can hear the little wheels turning in your head but no that is not a good thing. A futurian uptopia based on full equality is hell. Sure, sure sounds fucking great doesn’t it, equality for all? But did you also ever notice how in the old movies their were always two people from the future (or aliens from outer space) and they were always the same sex. (They were usually male. Doesn't that make you love our patriarchal society, we would and do project our penises into outer space, just take a look at any space shuttle. Nothing like flying to the moon in a giant cock and balls) Well it’s not that they're necessarily both male, they always 'look' male. Well that will happen in a futuristic utopia; everybody looks and dresses the same. Men start looking like women and vice versa until everything from clothes to people are either uni- or a- sexual. Why do you think in the movies aliens are always traveling millions of light years to anal probe humans? It’s because to them there is essentially no difference between masturbation and sex; everybody is so much alike. it’s like fucking yourself no matter what you're doing. (And that is bound to get boring after awhile, hence the anal probing.)

I mean you have to ask yourself why do men from the future or aliens visit the past or travel to Earth. Could it be because they're in trouble? I mean if everyone looks like one another propagating the species is bound to become a problem. Seriously though if everybody looks, acts, talks, if everyone is the same then whatever time period or galaxy you’re from you’re still fucked. Not only would sex become a chore, but that civilization would be extremely vulnerable to new diseases or any new threat for that matter. It’s unlikely that a completely 'same' society or species could adapt fast enough to survive. Men from the future and space aliens come to past/Earth for only two reasons: to ask for help and offer a warning.

But I hear what you’re saying. Sometimes men from the future or space aliens come to Earth just to wreck as much havoc as they can. I mean sometimes they treat Earth like a rock star treats a hotel room; they just start destroying shit. But I already told you they only come for two reasons. So the question is why when they get here do they start blowing crap up. The answer is simple; they’re pissed. They travel millions of light years to get to some backwater little bitch of a planet in search of help and to offer important advice only to find that Earth is barreling down the same nearly irreversible path as they are. I’d be pissed too. At the point I’d topple a couple of buildings just for the hell of it.

I mean take a look around. T.V. and the internet are only speeding things up. The gap between the rich and poor, the smart and dumb, between the have’s and have-nots is ever widening. Power is being and will continue to be consolidated until only a handful of people have power. People are becoming less human and more like cattle everyday. God we all talk about the same things, we all shop at the same stores. We all work the same dead end jobs to provide for our children until they’re old enough to get a dead end job of their own. Fuck. Cloning, commercials, sheep, government, religion. It’s all the same.

So here's the real question: How many individuals are left in the world? How long until society smoothers every last individual? How many days, months, years until the death of democracy is met with thunderous applause? How much longer until personal soveriengty, freedom, free will is sacrificed for security, safeness, equality? Answer: Not long.

And what then? Well then we get in our time machines (or spaceships) zip up our shiny new jumpsuits, fuck our friend bobby (or is it bobbi?) and pray to God we can find an answer in some backwater dive.

toast: a tribute

no matter how cheap
the bread, butter, or
jam (or how dull
the knife) there is
always that good pleasant
scrapping sound. mmmm, toast!

-for meredith b/c she loves toast.

ketchup and mustard

usually i hate working
on paint crew but not to-
day because of curbs. it was
so boring but the yellow
and the red paint reminded
me of ketchup and mustard
and of hot dogs and the way
summer tastes

wheel chair

i saw a man on the
corner of the park. he
looked hurt and lost but at
the same time
he was kicking his legs
to roll down the sidewalk.
i couldn't help but feel
as though he and i were
the same; we both thought that
we couldn't walk. we both felt
trapped in wheelchairs of our
own making.

broken-wing

beak:
broken-
wing
feathers

oh!
to touch
soft.
too scared.

no,
not hands.
ah,
the hose!

swing.
kilt, dead?
dull
nothing.

to
adults:
"bird
no tweet"

tall
raining
cold
laughter

Son Burn

The Father
--belted--
on his S*n
left Him
RED

Pen & Paper

Wet with ink from previous words
My fingers drown in black

Struggling to stay afloat
my hand slides across the parchment
the ink bleeds and smears
it relentlessly spills from my pen

Words run together
they blend and create something original
yet evince just the same

The pen is hard to grasp
the meaning is obscured
but the purpose that drips out is clear

Mistakes are shadowed
discontent is buried
the restraits are lifted
and expression is set free

If I don't notice soon
it may consume me
but I do not worry

When the end comes
and the ink recedes
the stains wipe clean

The black washes from my skin
the ink forms on the paper
I can see its final form
but it runs deeper

I am detatched for now
safe to touch
but that feeling lingers
like silence after a gun shot
it is palpable

So I wait
I know it's coming
I can see it

The next flood approaches

James Dean, Flapper, Elvis, Closet Door, Untitled I, Untitled II

It brings me great pleasure to present some drawings and paintings from my talented younger sister Amylyn Dollowitch.

daymare

the feline
with nine legs
stalks the paths
of soft skin
under eye
and streetlights

oh, the thirst!
when one wakes
the cautious
stay in bed
smile, forget
and find sleep.