At Once a Glass Horse

sketch by Ken

So I went and kept going

until I arrived at the end of the universe.
As I arrived all things began to warp around me.
I received a key to reality and in that
instant I began to see the entire universe as part of
another construct (and a minor one at that).
Someone says "Go on, look some more". Their tone
is somber, dull and bored. I decide to get up from
my small white cube and blow my whistle. At once
a glass horse stumbles up - his back sagging and legs
spindly. I call for a taxi instead, the driver pauses,
looks at me and drives off. The horse looks so sad
that I climb on his back to reassure him of his use-
fullness. He quakes a little at first but gathers him-
self and begins to move. He moves so slowly that the
universe and surrounding construct begins to recede
like a dramatic movie-lense-old-fashioned special
effect. The universe containing contruct disappears
like a white blip on a black screen and there is
nothing, nothing at all except me and the glass horse.
A light, seemingly from nowhere, illuminates us, it's
incandescent. Who ever is running this show is not
energy conscious, I thought.

"Kickin it in the Cosmos"

"Improperly Trained Cubes" by TMITH

I just wanted to tell all you jive characters out there holding out for a job hauling hunks of hashish, ham hocks or hummus to some disputed territory, backyard or dormitory, that I’m “Kickin it in the Cosmos” (all rights reserved). Yes while you crafty corroborators are clashing in the kitchen, I’m way out-back, behind your celestial conceit, kickin’ it big time with the galactic goom-bops. I’m not waiting for the sink to drain or the trash to be disposed of, I’m living it! While your dictators are being deposed and your death dealing dirt of dire consequence is damn near dumped on your head, I am star bound, stepping only on those colorful lights beyond the solar system of your mind. Don’t look for me, I’m movin' groovin' and proven! You can’t even see me - because I’m, kickin it in the cosmos!

Thump Natural and Cosmic Dust

So, I was just kickin it when I ran into Thump Natural and Cosmic Dust, a pair of self-serving do-gooders, with no real lives of their own. They said (to me) “We seen you out here kickin it and we thought we might kick it with you.” Right then and there I knew it was trouble, cause if you are kickin it right - you can’t be seen, so I said (so sublimely) “Yours is no disgrace, if you are seen with me by those of the above.” At those words Thump and Cosmic became so agitated that the lights around us quickly vomited them back to their previous places, and I for my part coolly continued kickin it - alone, smoothly, softly and solidly. 

The Man In The Hat's "Situational Definitions"

"Violent Throbbing" - Good in the hips, bad in the head.

"Endless Beating" - Only good when it's your heart.

"Stoned " - Good (Possibly) by some natural hallucinogen, not good with

rocks thrown by "religious" people.

The Jesus Dance

Dances are identified by certain movements that take place at certain
times or musical intervals. Some dances are identified or correlate with
the type of music being played. Using these parameters you can tell the
Tango from the Funky Chicken or the Waltz from the Mambo.
     Religion is like a dance that God tells you to do. If you don't do the
dance, God will kill you. If you do the dance but get the steps wrong,
God will kill you. If you do the dance correctly, but dance to the wrong
music, God will kill you. God is kind of picky like that.
     Now when you talk to various religionists they tell you that only
they know the steps - or - that while no one "really knows" the steps
"we have the right music". Or they will tell you that while
others may "dance" their way is clumsy, ignoble and uncoordinated.
     I wonder whether god really is concerned about our left foot while
he's a million light years away turning the lights off in another galaxy.
I wonder if our a-rythymic movements cause a gap in the interstellar
spiritual construct or, are we just kidding ourselves.

My Little Robots

I created little robots that do different things, some can sing, some can dance, some jump, hump,  lie, fly, bump and grind. My robots are great theater, why at times they can even cut off each others heads! The run around all over, sqealing, stealing and sometimes healing. Then they rig up devices that destroy each other and blow themselves to bits! They create stories about me that make no sense in an effort to try and recompense. Every time they try to do better they end up putting everyone in fetters! They all do something, more or less. Someone asked me why I made them and why they do things I made them able, I tell them I like to watch my little robots, they are spectacular, they're the greatest show on earth!


Reynard's first gallery showing

This is Reynards first showing (though he still remains anonymous) I try to tell him that pinning a pop can to a wall is not "art" and it never will be, yet he continues, undaunted, unabashed and unwilling to face my reality. Why not? It's his life, (well, I guess) actually I'm jealous he got there before me. I do like the curators comments, you can kind of see them in the gallery photo next to the work, if you can't they are reprinted below:

"Coke Can Pinned To Wall"
The creation of "Coke Can... took place at the end of the first cycle of the last phase of the artist's "metal can" period. Other less substantial can work was sold "at any venue for almost any price" in the artists words, to put food on the table (and maintain the enormous studio required for such undertakings) during the lean years on the art worlds fringe. Success was at last found toward the end of the fourth period (when it was really too late). Tragically, an abrupt end was brought to his can work and he never again touched the aluminum.

The Man In The Hat's poet-tree corner
"Your cheese is my disease, your cheese is my desire
free me of your sleaze, and set my soul on fire"
Sounds more like a "poet free" corner to me! When I find TMITH'S poetry "tree house" I'm setting it on fire!

The Ambiguous Sandy Beach Evening Thought
He walks along the sandy beach looking out at the limitless ocean, barely lit by half a moon. His eyes turn upward at the vast dark sea above with tiny spots of white too numerous to comprehend - and he asks, "How can I get to end of it?" Then he looks down and smells a small, dead, fish.

Encouraging last word of the day...
Jesus loves me more than you and less than that guy over there in the funny hat, is all I'm sayin.