el día de los muertos

Composed by William Correa (Bobo), Melvin Lastie.  Recorded at Van Gelder Studio, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey. Produced by Creed Taylor. ▼ WILLIE BOBO: FRIED NECK BONES AND SOME HOME FRIES from “Uno-Dos-Tres” Verve (V6-8648) (US) 1965

a nod is as good as a wank to a blind horse

Fig. 1 (deleted) Pablo flicks his tongue like a checking pencil. Convinces himself the tooth is more or less intact. The girl in the yellow sou’wester regards him suspiciously. Pivots on a pirouette almost as the pail arcs low, kissing plastic. Conjoined skeletons and noodles raining down, loitering in shaman’s margins. I should give a

sibling whispers # 27: poop in the pipes

some seriously good writing, here.

c.c. rider

Composed by Serge.  Arranged and orchestrated by Jean-Claude Vannier.  Produced by Alain Hortu. ▼ JANE BIRKIN: KAWASAKI from “Di Doo Dah” Fontana (6325 305) (France) 1973

gimlet garden

▼ THE BRIAN JONESTOWN MASSACRE: KID’S GARDEN from “Spacegirl And Other Favorites” Candy Floss (CF009) (US) 1993

orange skies

Dr. E’weerd Yijji, allegedly, is a teacher of Asian Studies in South Carolina. Prior to this he lived in Bangladesh. Aside from studio collaborations with Mission of Burma and Volcano Suns, the good doctor has also forayed into occasional live performance with Sun City Girls. This solo release, a vinyl issue on the One Tree

infected mushroom

He possessed a hacking cough. The kind of cough which cuts one off at the middle. Empties one’s chest through the mouth and nose in gales which starve one’s brain of oxygen until the head lights up like an open refrigerator. Strings of phlegm hanging in ropes like green nets off the side of a

a good kid

Before he met with his aneurism, I came across him at the foot of our stairwell. Seventeen years old and me already feeling the strains of something more rusty than middle age. My forearms ached from setting down the garbage sacks. The skin of my knuckles lit red from the concrete. The steel of the

norfolk court

The air in the narrowsmakes tidy museum piecesof rotten fruit, spilled fluids.Oldenberg. Jackson Pollock.Shriveler’s Block. The smell is not pronouncedbut stutters, popslike yellow buttons onMickey Mouse’s pants Close to the flooremptiedflat as a foundling floor showunable to flee Even the paint on the wallreminds one of spoiled flesh traumatised, distressedHalitosis. Piss. J.K. Rawling on a