shaggygate

 

we continue to transcribe leaks

from a dispensation of dial logs from the mad

this one at station elbasateen in the metro anfāq alqāhirah

in the yottapolis of a thousand minarets

on the continent of cave dust

to reveal however partially

great diversities

of nature still remnant in the city

and some grammars of soul devoiced

oh whonyms

communications an infinite expanse

whod live incarcerated in language zoos

of a small & stumbled civilization

the minds born free

and so should language be

i dont know what loneliness is she says as she folds another pair of underpants and places them neatly on a tall stack in her imaginary suitcase its not as if im unfamiliar with certain complexes of feelings that seem in particular moods to at least vaguely align with what others may be describing when theyre attempting to articulate however ineptly states they might sometimes find themselves in that they put for whatever reasons and however partially or contradictorily into the category they or the reified forces that have effectively consumed them and consequently they unable to distinguish them from they associate with the word lonely

i know what you mean he says and he thinks this folding she does isnt it like that time i was in weiberfastnacht and hübsch bützchen coursed the streets like an auseinanderfaltung and the dachshunds like kacchera lost in the laundromat of satyaloka and he aslants in her direction through a clade of apprehensions and plashes his meat far enough from the suitcase that he intends his invasion wont be experienced as any sort of unrequested violation

nexts a pair of phlox briefs which she dangles from a pinkie saying the apocalypses gonna come whether you read the news or not so why read or bow at an altar of stories that have as little to do with our karyoconstitution as magic underwear does with magic help me fold and she hands him an oversized garbage bag im the illegitimate child of vytautas the great and a kroppkaka dekonstruktionist hembitråde named smålånå or scåtiå or våsterbotom the genealogys opaque and i wont take yes for an answer

my pedigrees much lesser he says and muses how in the hurdles of hierarchy to broach into space the message hes just received from the highest and most eminent emanations to do kinetic glossolalia against her sphincter and bides the challenge by loosening the knot and asking if he should place these robust delicacies on one of the existing stacks or begin anew as all of the existing are despite the relative lightness of each fabric with the various inevitabilities of physics factoring into the almost truly astonishing heights shes managed to achieve looking as they may not be able to continue much longer in any vertical ascent

elevate your underpant game he said she says at reichenspergerplatz and the number sixteen to wienerplatz was so late i believed him and let me tell you elevation makes a difference and she hands him a maebari to include in the piles and circumbambulating faqīh rushing to their judiciaries mobbed and mobbing like marmosets disagreeing like forensic forensicists whether this is that or this or something else and removing her apodesmos says would you remain so distant from my pubococcygeus for youve already fondled my cacks and what separates your tungis now from my perineum

the faqīh put underpants on their heads and look like misshapen owls from the vestibules of hell and join hands in a circle around the fraught fornicators and they all that diverse and impossible congregation faqīh commuters transitpersonnel baladi and ṣa‘īdī mutasharids and mummies almutasharids and almawmisses and rihlat shaqat ealaa al'aqdames sing this hymn from the palpitating memory of motile khufu

we are one

not in any of your tales

the news it holds no unity

our rants* no commonality

we live each of us and all alone

but for this

that one true and only bond

underpants

and the subligacula what with the wind picked up and the idiobabelia against her ani externus like a dervish festival flapping around elbasateen like chiroptera and the faqīh flapping and she says i have to get to qobaa before the bomb but the buttaramas to my taste and its not a question of not paying attention to the emotions but which to pay attention to therere so many of them at the same time i can only float them like an armada that stresses the horizons and watch them rampage on their way oh my mastodetons are messy and she puts it harder on his tuggo and the faqīh go to levitation and speak vonlenska and some rare commuters too and the gruds fall off and the wind is windy and cairo dustily redeemed

*usage note

the hymn is sung as a round of nine with rants

being substituted with

dance lances cants trance wants aunts manses

in any order with a return to rants

in round nine