Keith Tuma & jUStin!katKO,

Jo Cook,

Aryan Kaganof,

and Catherine H.





Keith Tuma & jUStin!katKO


     after Bern Porter

after the acting up and backing off and the brushing up on
the calling for and calming down and the carrying off
after the clamming up and the chipping in and the coming across
after the coming up against and the counting on and the crossing out

there was nothing left to do but to tell them all to fuck off

after the doing away with and dragging on and the drawing out
the dropping in and dropping out and the dropping off
after the egging on and the facing up to and the falling about
after the fucking up and the flipping off of all those fucking head jobs

fuck them all those fuckers can fuck themselves fuck em good

after the falling back on and falling out with and the feeling up
the figuring out and filling in and the filling in for
after the finding out and the fingering of and most of the flinging
after the getting around and the getting along with and the getting away

fuck em we did it all first without those fuckers havin a clue

we renamed the nations and turned off the magnets
we subverted cell-phone towers and ransacked the cabinets
we rediscovered electricity and prepared to evaporate
we researched the best way to hotwire a Hummer

we're all fucked anyway so who's who now fuck you

we channeled Dr. Phil and harnessed his Presence
we calculated that the oil would be good for at least twenty
we refuted all chemicals with mere household science
we prayed to vitamin D and for more global warming

after the getting down and getting in and all the getting off
the getting over and getting out and the getting around
after the getting through and the giving up and the giving away
after the going down and going off and telling them what we thought

what do they know about our so-called history fuck em

we rifled through a wallet on a sidewalk in Cleveland
we went to His house and attempted to rob Him
we ripped off our clothes and unfucked in the bathroom
we zipped up and turned on to hear it all flushing

we imagined that we were in black and white movies
we talked a little more though to be like original
we snuck out the back way and trampled the flowers
we kissed and we fumbled with zippers and roach clips

fuck them and their blindness we have nightvision fuck em

we gassed up the engine and smothered more infantry
we decapitated the voodoo doll with a smuggled box cutter
we determined that they were too brittle to spit on
we retailed infinity and masked up the time-bomb

we were fucking around with those fuckers fuck em

after the hanging on and the handing over and the hanging up
the hitting up on and hitting it off and the holding out
after jacking up and the jacking off and the keeping up on
after the knocking up and the kicking out and the laying off

we sweet-talked our way into the Pentagon war room
we perpetuated the proliferation of closed-captioned television
we slit open thigh veins and got upped on the ozone
we precipitated ice-caverns and stepped on the fossils

we watched as the meter ticked to full frontal gnawing
we ate only the crispiest to hear them die crunching
we throbbed up kebob gristle and shat on the casbah
we pounded our chests after cremating more Wahabis

we had the best goddamn workout since Troy Aikman quarterback
we punished all worship with a kick to the gonads
we calculated that the real criminals were long past their prime
so we graphed off the shelf life and wasted a mountain

the fuckers know the truth of the matter so fuck em

we wanted to give but never could find the pocket change
we stood at attention while they beat out a Fugs tune
we monkeyed with monkeys popping synthetic pheromones
we plagiarized no theory save credible Egyptians

after the leaving out and the letting down and letting on
the living down and the living up to and the looking back
after the looking down on and the looking in on
after lucking out and the making off with and making it up

we were fucked up most of the time but fuck it so fuck them

we knew the seven secrets but blew out the fire
we severed the connection for lack of no toggle
we justified our blindness with the authority of seeing
we inferred from palms open the blue crackle impending

we destroyed followers flexing our photocopied potential
we honored our ancestors by dumping their ashes
we covered the corpses in day-old bologna
we projected our wills onto the windows of storefronts

we're all fucked anyway so who's who now fuck em

we planted twenty-three marigolds in the stagnant shit toilets
we declared stomach-stapling surgery always already
we expected the best stuff but prices gave plastic
we slipped through Spanish customs with an unidentified genome

we were carried away raptured like Brides of the Lamb
we roasted with thyme and drained into the kettle-corn
we thrust gleaming blades into the trunk-situated sub-woofers
we ebayed the location of the ninth arm of the octopus

we jumped forth from windows pirouetting air-hammers
we dramatized the fragments of garbaged bank documents
we were corn-hole champions on the campus of dumb asses
we recharged the batteries with the breast-milk of mannequins

fuck those briar-patch munchers yeah fuck em

after the missing out and the being mistaken and mistaken for
the nodding off and the owning up to and the panning out
after passing out and passing away and the paying back
after the picking out and picking up we more or less pulled it all off

we sawed down the billboards to make room for more parking
we scoured the libraries erasing pigmy graffiti
we asked the rich rectums to unfold their inner chambers
and sailboats and pube-wigs and the crest of the Green Knight

we mumbled and cart-wheeled thru naked unchildren
we broke our legs running and kicking out street lights
we mistook art for politics and breakfast for vodka
we sent back the book of inaction special delivery

fuck the dry boring bastards they can't touch us fuck em

we glued shut the pages of every book we could get to
but there was little time and the glue was um noxious
we downloaded a girl named Golda in office pants
we fingered our pistols and waited to draw them

we pissed off the masses by calling them multitudes
we tumbled and bumbled and then tripped and smote them
we wept embittered for the milk as it curdled
we thrust our cocks into the vaginas for monologue

those invisible fuckers can stay that way fuck em

after the pulling out and putting down and the putting in for
the putting out and the putting off and the putting on
after the putting up with and running down and the running into
after the seeing through and sending up and the sending back

we smoked Fidel's Castro and gulped Nixon's mint julep
we snaked thru our veins the hard coils of ethernet
we pluralized egos and super-collided
we kicked up the future as a dust-cloud behind us

we unfastened the seatbelts of inexperienced passengers
we mistook politics for art and continued our sneering
yes we downloaded a girl named Wanda in office pants
there were pistols at the ready waiting for us to draw them

we incited the soundtrack to explode in the alleys
we witnessed the street rending open before us
we beefed up and charged in and set it on fire
we chained ourselves to train-tracks in protest of commerce

it was one fucking time no fucking doubt about it fuck em
and we're all fucked anyway so who's who now fuck you

fuck you copyright documentation fuck you Kroger freezer aisle
fuck you pre-death tube-feeding fuck you Susan B Anthony
and fuck you troglodytes who want to roll back feminism and fucking
fuck you inevitable nuclear conflict fuck you microwave radiation
fuck you gold bugs trembling on the edge of the collapse of the dollar
and fuck the rest of the world waiting to buy the last of the euros
all of your currencies are a joke fuck you and fuck them all
fuck you political pornography fuck you bow and arrow target
fuck you mortgage insurance fuck you housing bubble sitcom
fuck you receipt for Wal-Mart groceries fuck you television function
fuck all of you righteous little twits carrying the Bible to work
and fuck the rat Pope with all his little Protestant Bushes
fuck you Karl Rove and fuck you Condoleezza Rice
both of you can fuck yourselves with a double-headed Tomahawk fuck you guys
fuck you vending machine granola fuck you color-coded parking pass
fuck you media interface fuck you bologna covered Hummer
fuck you Mac fuck you PC and fuck every one of your links
fuck you reflective surfaces fuck you atrazine saturation
fuck you Giorgio Agamben you post-communist cunt
and fuck every unsexed economist from the University of Chicago
fuck supply and fuck demand fuck greed and fuck speed
fuck you beer guzzling undergraduates too stupid to read
fuck sushi with Pepsi on a summer afternoon in Beijing
fuck you gas station condom fuck you Dr Scholls insoles
fuck you Jim Behrle Ron Silliman and the rest of the bloggers
fuck the web del sol portal for its philistine view of experimental writing
and fuck all of you who think this belated little comic screed gives
     a damn about experimental writing
fuck you Radio Shack metal detector fuck you KFC parking lot
fuck the latest terrorist cause and its poster boy on the terror charts
fuck you newly installed windows fuck you frozen ground beefalo
fuck you dog shit plastic bag fuck you bank lobby carpet
fuck you The Sopranos for being on HBO Deadwood too
fuck you Wal-Mart aisle layout fuck you girls volleyball coaches
fuck you Lance Armstrong we don't care if you've got balls
fuck you father of the girl with the short blonde hair that was pinned
     to the side and hung there
fuck us for jumping around like our asses are smoldering
fuck us for wishing ill on France and its many fine pastries
fuck us for being as queer as steers and slurping marmalade
fuck us for making this up before a light brunch with Saddam
fuck us for forgetting to edit cuz of all the shit we're processing
fuck us for polishing the wax ears of the Kennedys and the Bernsteins
fuck us for not being Villon Artaud or Porter
fuck us for a buck and a half if you're lucky
fuck us for being Bubba's liberal rejects not abject enough
fuck us for pawning our dictionaries to rent a cheap hookah
fuck us for seeking safe harbor in fricative mouthwash babble
and fuck you motherless turds for bothering to read this
fuck you fuck you fuck it fuck them fuck us fuck it all





Jo Cook

























Aryan Kaganof


The “F” Word

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Catherine H.


"goat | loot"