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    (when he is haunted by hearing Katrina's crazed voice)

         for crazy women artists everywhere. [audio: by Jeffrey Ethan Lee & Amy Bauer]



I think


of those

who were

truly great




I saw

the best

minds of

my generation






his side

I’m tired of ventriloquy,

my own voice misses me—

I’m down to my last

ditch ef-fing

at the inef-

fable voice

weakening until

I cannot hear it—

haunting me

even now,

she’s many years later

a surprise long after

she was young and


it’s a pain

to know I could see

and not know her now—

was she the one

sitting alone in that alley

by my door,

an exile or

a clown in army surplus

dregs in the rain

smelling drunk?

and who else left

smudges on my name

by the bell

and night deepening

her footsteps


did she walk out

of the drizzle and

into her grave

pregnant with replies?

the bus full of

fluorescent passengers slides by

striding pedestrians—

and if “life is boring”

and if “we must not say so,”

I will say so—

say so I heard

her reciting from

her cartoon books,

her crayon diaries,

her mumbles—

her side

“Listen man, Charlie Chan was

secretly white as Spock or

Chewbacca or any



Deserve what you get,

turned on the set.

Alas, that they

should bear

no colors there

in the putriful future,

the ever cruddy now.

There must be sum weight

ounces hear,

said the beggar

to Big Cheese.

Let me word-soup you

wi’ this: Lettuce

give peas a chance,

‘n all that

we are SANE

is a big Ho Hum.

There’s no way

to peas,

curds are the whey.

Lay your sleeping head

my love

humming on my

faceful of arm,

but soft

o my sorrow,

go far

from the job—

slave (I mean— save)

yourself before the

bosses finger you out.

Find a place

where it rains

warm and clear suddenly

sun shooting through

the smell of mango


Renumber me,

remire me,

doNUT forget...”