In honor of my two month anniversary of Reddit broadcasting I decided to do a 24 hour marathon. I began at 3:30 PM. I'm writing these words approx 30 minutes into the ordeal. Let us see where the public access caterpillar takes us.
The first poem was written about an hour into the broadcast, and revised over the next couple of hours. I was going to continue it but u/Deer-Antler, a regular RPAN legend, recommended I leave it as is. It marks the appearance of a new character in this blog: the Backward Mask: caped book detective, silent sometimes like the letter 'E'.
Walrus Magick Bullet Theory
What television dares to tune into
the lakeluster hearts of men? The Backward
Mask knows. Stairway to Babylon, only
Manson and Brian Beach Bum foresaw
what the '60's did to the backyard zoo
community.
It's only human to whip up a golden
anchorperson while the messiah's on smoke
break. Did Chapman get Paul & Lennon?
MKUltra-fame choreographed decades apart?
I'm just asking questions. Continuity? You're thinking of
philosophy.
I don't fuck with that.
A little later I got adolescent nostalgic and wrote the following ditty.
Little Domestic Slice
Splatter brained, listening to KRS-One and
missing South Africa. Poetry and citizens
engaging in preemptive strikes outside
711's near the south Loop.
This other private dick I know we
have our own assumptions to disprove.
What makes the bus late midweekday?
Starving mouths are inquiring.
Plug
My best pal from High School is a gonzo
journalist in NYC. Better than this dump,
Club Silencio for chumps: israelthepoet.
blogspot.com. Shout out J in New York.
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