ode to the ikefish

These fish were jammed into this fence by Hurricane Ike.

This is my ode to them;

like rumplestiltskin, wrinkled and wasted,
not one hair on the chinny-chin-chin.
a flounder in the fence,
I'm an ikefish,
oh fuck, I'm fucked,
how did it come to this?

my friend over there,
comes complete with garnish,
easy lunch for a skinny cat,
with ribs like twigs,
fragile window slats.

I didn't ask for such a fate,
fuck! I was just swimming around
like nobody's business.
just one more wash of water,
please, oh please.

self portrait

I have written before about my artist friends kari and hector rhendindi, and how we send writings (sometimes inspired by spam) back and forth. It's happening again, and this is where we are.

kari started it with a self portrait in beet root and cheese and tomato and no anchovies please and cardboard.

From: kari
To: hector
Cc: dreamroom
Sent: Wednesday, June 27, 2007 5:58 AM
Subject: self portrait

how about a self portrait , she thought.
yeah whatever
get a life , art warrior.
sure as shootin'
there was plenty to beak off about
and perameters had to be drawn
and so did i.
i used an old beet root butt that i found in the compost
and an old pizza box.
it was not too bad of a job
perhaps Andy Warhol may have liked it.
perhaps The Voop von Poop Gallery may want it
for their washroom.

From: "dreamroom"
To: "kari"
CC: "hector"

Subject: Re: self portrait
Date: Wed, 27 Jun 2007 22:33:51 -0700
----- Original Message ----->

cool like the cool blue glass shard
that I found at the new park
which is an old dump
It was near sunrise
or maybe sunset
so I gathered my strength
and cut myself

I dipped a blackberry leaf
into my blood
and painted a twig
I used the twig
to paint a tree
with which
I painted
the sky

but it was blue

I must be royalty

King of the Scoop-da-Poop
Doggy-wag-my-day-care

Jack the Ripper might have liked it

----- Original Message -----
From: hector
To: dreamroom
Sent: Thursday, June 28, 2007 6:52 AM
Subject: Re: self portrait

warm unlike the yellow ice smoked
in doorways of unwanted love
which is the big downtown
in the big sunlight on the big street
I felt small inside my skin

I found a quarter in my lint corner pocket
dropped it on the sidewalk
with the forgotten things
once important enough
to be carried
across any threshhold now defunct

all the people are willing to know me
if only for an exchange
of a recycled dream
once lit up inside the head
of a caterpillar looking for the painted twig
once used to paint a skyward tree.

From: "dreamroom"
To: "hector"
CC: "kari"
Subject: Re: self portrait
Date: 28 June 2007 08:37 PM

from the rocky caterpillar
a cocoon
a chrysalis
and then a moth or spider
with legs like crooked piano strings
and wings the size of Jupiter

what was that light
that burned deep
in the hint of being
of never having been known?
or was it forgotten
in the end of the dream?
out cold on the wet pavements
of uncaring places

and what of that quarter?
what will it buy?
not an elastic sweater
to hold in the weeping heart
as it sags
and goes to sleep hungry
with a feast laid out before it

and still
in the doorways
the unwanted
love only themselves
while others care not for them
with puffs of yellow smoke
and sleight of hand beneath
the ashes and sack clothes
of the wanderers
spread thin again

hector rendhindi and me

Hector with William S. Burroughs



me with a reefer

This is an e-mail exchange that went back and forth over two days between me and my friend "Hector Rendhindi".

"Hector" is a whacky artist/poet/musician whom I have been friends with ever since I came to Vancouver. He moved away to Ontario last year, and I miss his whacky ways.

There are a few of these exchanges that I will post as time goes by. There is a certain weird poeticism in our streams of conciousness.

From: "dreamroom"
To: "Hector"
Subject: I decided not to German
Date: Sat, 21 May 2005 23:45:54 -0700

in the same way that a crack in a mirror reveals the illusory nature of a reflected image. I decided not to German, and instead, walked to the nearest smoke shop. The proprietor was not in (he never was in those afternoon days of sunken sunlight that I remembered so well before they ever transpired to pass.), so I stood in the summerbreeze rain and gaped at the raw reflection that I saw. It was then that I realized that this wasn't The Edward Hopper painting - not really anyhow - this was real life! But it wasn't my own. Oh no. Not by a longshot as a rivulet of Alizarin Crimson caromed past. "On it's way to somewhere, I guess". At least that's what I thought, but, I suddenly realized that I was floating. But I was not the only one on that cool midnight blue Saturday before dawn, Uh-Uh - not by a long shot....

>-----Original Message-----
From: hector
Sent: May 22, 2005 3:15 PM
To: dreamroom
Subject: RE: I decided not to German


unlike a brick wall reminds you of another brick wall. I couldn't make up
my mind to Inuit, and instead, ran to the nearest monestary. The bumfu*ker was
there ( he always was in those late nights of rising stars that I forget so often as they keep on coming, so I layed down in the winter snow and closed my eyes so I wouldn't have to deal with anything. It was then that I had no idea that this was a Bateman sketch, really, this was phoney, and I owned it. Period!, as a chunk of dried Hookers Green remained permanent on the palette. Going nowhere fast. I wasn't thinking. I was sinking. And I was the only one that hot burnt sienna day just after dusk, oh yes it was happening........


>From: "dreamroom"
To: hector
Subject: RE: I decided not to German
Date: Sun, 22 May 2005 17:39:34 -0700



I had counted seven - I say, seven - giraffes by the time we had
arrived back from South-east Gillander. M. de Rivar was still with us, and
he spoke of a time when he was still indebted to James. As I think you must
know, James had an older sister named Frieda. She was a sordid type, and her
cohort referred to her as Frank. It was sometime after the "Little War", and
she had been more-or-less absolved of her mis-deeds, and of her infamous
gluttony (she still refused to admit to inspiring Munch's "Scream"). She had
taken to leashing herself, and parading herself around like some demented
poodle. I guess the positive thing was - James had still not returned from
his sojourn to the tropics. Anyhow, we had all been at the cathedral, and
found it to be quite fascinating. We had seen several nuns (they didn't seem to be lesbians) tending to what we had thought might be sheep, though on closer examination they turned out to be drunken Ethiopians without their parasols. Oh, but they were the envy of the Crumdites! They had glistening teeth and voices like gypsy-hog banjos. When they walked, they had a certain je ne sais qua - a swagger I suspected... But we were having none of that! Goodness no! There was much stained-glass strewn about, but it also turned out to be quite different than what we had expected. In fact, it wasn't stained-glass at all, but a strip-mall in Kentucky! Oh my, but how I laughed at their gullibility! Last Friday I had another letter from my Aunt's brother's cousin, ( you might remember her from our school days - it was her
Grandfather's son who invented the laser trousers that we wore with such glee when we arrived in Athens that day). She said to say "hello" - should I be talking to you. I think she has had a thing for you since that time in Penetanguishine. Ha! You must remember that escapade all too well? None-the-less, I should remember to send her some of the marmalade that we made from those tangerine berries. What a joke!



----- Original Message -----
From: hector
To: dreamroom
Sent: Sunday, May 22, 2005 7:11 PM
Subject: RE: I decided not to German


there was only two ducks-you said,two by the time we had returned to Northwest Squamish. M.de Rivar was never there at all. He was James lover, as was his younger brother Fredrick. Just before the big bang he had inspired Monets unknown painting titled "Corn Hole Over Them Fu*kin' Lilies",lashing themselves and galavanting ariund like some bitch freak on a hot pride day.The only negative thing was is that James returned that day from Ohio.
We hated the cathedral and passed on going there. Earlier we had seen some
nuns rug munchin each other out back so we avoided it. Heres where you passed out from your pills and we had to cancel our appointment with monsieur.You woke up screaming " I wanna lollypop" so the male nurse hauled you into the other room where he said he gave you an oral sedated.

> >
> ><<>>
>
>_________________________________________________________________

still smokin'

click on image to enlarge

This is an e-mail that I sent to my friend Rags, who had a great blues band named First Thing Smokin'. He also did an ongoing poetry thang called Skin Up with Kari, which was recorded by Danny at Dubvibe Productions. Very cool too. Someday I will get some cuts up here, or on my website.

Hola mi Amigo, mi hermano,

Como as estado? Ooops, wrong amigo - you can read Engrish...

This beautiful flyer for junk food came in the junk-mail with the Courier, and when I espied it, it reminded me of First Thing Smokin' being ripped off by the Village People - what with all the fruity lookin' "firemen" and all.

So I scanned it for your amusement, and then for my amusement, photoshopped some dogshit onto the plate. Mmm-mmm good. They sure do look happy and hungry, and how about those fries?

I wonder what happened to the Dalmatian - it's missing.

I am now looking for a Korean fast-food flier that features spotted dog and kimchi.

Stay cool mi hermano,

K