r. kees

r. kees is an aging elevator mechanic who writes things.

one day there will be a big party in the sky and everyone will get drunk on blood and the angels will fuck us all and some of us will be glad and some of us will wander off into the stars leaving it all behind like the big blue and red storm that it is. i hope god won't notice me and that i will be so insufficient and inconseqential that it won't interfere with the grand schemes of ecstasy and torture and the great feasts at long tables where wine is spilled and salome is still dancing with her naked brown eyes like mirrors of blood and the swelling penis' of the saints is disturbing only a little bit. after all it is salome and john's head is cooking in the soup pot and it is all repugnant because no one has plucked the eyes and they accuse us all and i know i would kill my brother if i were ABLE to go back and do it all over again and things would go to spinning once more.

the wolf's room

this is the room where the elephants slobber stones and walk with the dead boys.
this is the room of failed messiahs.
this is the room where a stray angel planted a grape vine cutting in the garden and
its fruit rotted and crumbled: now man is like us.
this is the room of delusion and molecule and wolf-song.
this is the room of those with nails in their heads and a dangle of enmeshed
electrodes in their genitals.
this is the room where cain wanders and floats like a wisp in moan-cries.
this is the room where the eyes see creeks of
fishblood and forests of bones.
this is the room of doors opening and shutting.

...............................................

and i remember the times in the sad tulip fields, when the red ones laid down and played dead and the yellow ones moaned and somebody said they thought that flowers were suppose to be happy--but i ask why? they die like everything else. in any event the wind comes around and the water dies and goes to heaven. god knows what goes on up there, but the water comes back down.

.........................................................................

dawn

when my being closed its eyes sometime in the twilight--a coil energized and an ancient relay pulled its contacts together. the electrics ran all the old paths before making a decision to began a new day--one that has never been before. this one. and so i exist once again, moment by moment, piece of second by piece of second. time being what it is--existing only to define or to be the other side of nothing