The Rag

When Jim fell of the steps
the Choir laughed
while eating from bags of chips
hidden inside their gowns

The greasy sheet music
collected by the conductor
at the end of practice
left a stain on his ungraded
term papers which he left
next to the pile of sheet music
on his Oak desk

he paged the secretary and asked
her to walk across campus
to select the cleanest white Rag from
the collection of the Head of Catering Services
in the Food Court
she paid him for the rag with her
friendliest smile and a single reflection
from the fluorescent tube lights in the ceiling
onto her Finest Tooth, just topping the rest of the
set by a tiny degree of perfection
It was visible only when she stood turned at a specific angle,
that of which she was acutely aware,
and had her lips curled upward in a certain kind of smile.
Only a selection of this Perfect Tooth showed,
but it danced so in a symphony of magnificent Fluorescence,

that the Head of Catering Services noticed with a painful awareness
-- that which reached into his thighs and down to his toes --
how meticulously planned this occasion had been.

The detachment he felt when she
thanked him so casually and
turned on her toes
to leave with his Most Prized Rag
(having been preserved among the richest of cleaning supplies)
was as unfamiliar to the noble director as it was shocking

She was back within eight minutes, the time allotted for her absence,
to deliver the boss his request.

"this is an inspiring acquisition," he said, as she stifled a toothless smile.
"this is an inspiring acquisition," he repeated, as he wiped the large potato chip grease stain
from a perfectly hand-carved corner of his desk
& tossed the Rag in the waste bin.

Excerpts From An Old Sketchbook (2007)

--

when you pay for soup
at Spanish counter
please tip barista
& guide your friends home
or to a night of dancing
please bring singers to
palaces of musicians
and transfer street lives to long swimming pools
& golf lawns &
fine white whisky table
round, unchipped w/ floral engraving

--


--
if you want to hang out with us,
take off your badge and thro
w your gun in the river
[teeth like an artist]

--


--


--

--

December 14 2007, year 4

time: 5:44 am
music: the littlest birds--be good tanyas
bus: Aerop rt Beauvais Shuttle
Location: Paris, France
vision: average, but light dim
mood: excellent/high
money on person: 182 Euros
previous music: T-Rex
sleep: no
nationality of girl in front of me: Swedish
destination #1: Beauvais
#2: Madrid
#3: granada
#4: Karma Guen
#5: Hamburg
current music: phoenix in flight- Converge
pen: fall-winter pen
sleep: Thursday night: 0 hours
1 hr nap @ 6 pm
--


--

Lith Masks (Step One)

House

March 2009

Winter Work 2009

Two Pieces of Writing

The trouble with C₆H₁₀O₅

When I walked over there to the pharmaceutical counter, they held out my bottle of Orange fix-its. When I reached for it, they re-directed their aim and poured the contents down the first-customer-in-line’s throat. The tallest pharmacist punched the red emergency button, grazing the back of his hand across the most exciting clerk’s hip bone -- which he felt effortlessly through her thin skirt -- and took three hard gulps from the fresh coffee that he had just poured. Everyone could hear the fluorescent light tubes buzzing in the back room. As the clerk stood there , annoyed that I came in just before lunch break, wiping her fogged glasses, I requested four sips from the tall man’s coffee. Before she could suggest my departure, the man with the biggest hat (whose coat was dimmer than the rest) had poured half the black contents into an orange bottle and insisted on my immediate consumption. As I emptied that down me and looked into the bottom of the bottle, raised above my face, I noticed, with subtle delight, the remnants of one white pill disappear stylishly. Those men in tights, with even bigger hats than the tallest dr., parked their horses out front & hustled inside in a short single file line. The slowest one, knocking items onto the trail he created behind him, slurred along, inquiring about a slower pace. Those men, hands on holsters, did oblige. As they finally approached this happening, they discovered no excitement (thus breaking their contract) – only people of differing heights standing around discussing Hues. One handful of remarkably potent magenta cellulose tablets in the hand of a subtle worker did catch the eyes of Smallest-and-Wheezing. Guns stayed put, as those 7 noble enforcers walked in reverse, to calm the slight equestrian panic ensuing outdoors. Smallest attempted a protest of reversal but his only mouth worked not and those heavy breaths of his produced sticky fluid. As he went for a wipe of mouth, the official in front of him in line tugged with a start and they both tripped over his leash, producing a fresh pile of items on the trail of those “men-to-the-rescue”.

“Madame!” suggested I, “help them!”--remembering the great surplus of condensed remedies of every sort back there. Her reply was not marked with words but with a steady aim of candy-coated tablets from a special bottle, into each of the mens’ many small fresh cuts, and dissolved those with a high pressure hose, connected to the laboratory faucet. Oh, how the men clambered, clamoring to their feet! They were already on their horses down the block before the toothbrush that had fallen from pocket of the youngest hit the ground. In the morning, the coroner rang me, with the confirmation that the customer had failed because of a severely blocked nasal system. I nodded and wept on the way to the bank, where I made a wire transfer to the Gold Coast of a relatively large amount of money from my yard sale the previous evening.

James Preiss, February 2009