depth

The Paper Mull

animal acronym for our own good

birds are burning aside

clouds that are created creative billowing

taking holidays, rather than taking to the streets

essential components are the woman, here

consider yourself moving, before it digests you

when the Japanese come to negotiate, we fly the red sun, doing the same for Americans is not a given.

reading is work, for others a vise

it is someone’s job to watch the flies

statistics show, you’re a statistic and a problem

the Cariboo or

steam plant alarm may send you scurrying, after yourself

keys to doors that don’t exist are nevertheless key

read this on, in the comfort of knowing, we carry the burden

minority employees down 25% from four to three, ‘it’s a vital improvement’

neck ties seem cross-cultural, so do name tags

june 4^th, 1989 - the incident is named after the location of the movement, in Tiananmen Square. figures ranging from 200–300 (government estimate), to 2,000–3,000 (Chinese Red Cross estimate)

indefinite

a vigorous reassessment of the “scare tactic” method

the infrastructure crumbles at the mere slight of our hands

negative factors of the melt down: 120 miles wide

feel it in your lungs, ablaze

the book is, made of paper, lurking

24/7 – 365, through and through

Digester cooking temperature hits 165˚C

the Fraser is a pump line, not a river

female employees up 50% from two to three, but their pay is the same

primary clarification

the view, inspired millions when the lights go down

animal rights activists scorn the misleading names company

sunsets are prettier remembered

he was a union man, before he turned the page

shifting under the florescent lights make nervous flies

secondary biological treatment (7 days)

steam like veins pop and defect

‘the ecological impact is still unclear but we are certain that everything out there is doing fine now’

total mill employees: 333

revolutions are in part riots and smog

your alarmed action is instinctively yours

safety is the number one concern after profit, clearly

you comes first

paper looks better on a salmon, but there are none

using, without being wholly obvious, a local species in the company name will attach environmental connotation

lift the impact with your knees to avoid straining your back

practical functions are for ______

write the paperback before it writes you

the union was left to bleed out

twelve hours sitting on a raised platform, it’s your job to remove individual sheets if one fly drops

locks are not locks without

cohesion in its simplest

tallest building in the city: Digester Tower

Intuition tells us: “Recent health and medical studies have shown that PM10 and PM25 articles (either themselves or in combination with other air pollutants) may have extensive and serious human health impacts. These health effects include such things as premature death, increased hospital visits, worsening respiratory symptoms and disease,

and decreased lung function”

the animals check their books and find no protection from misusing names

bridging over the melted

letting the power back

right the paper back before it rights you

in Beijing the sun will not burn

the Japanese will be offended if a fly is spotted inside the paper

there was a time we would take to the streets

the fact is, slowly falling asleep

the Cariboo Pulp & Paper Company down …

and this, is the product of our actions

the B spot

here, it’s a stream of intake – words that are not language but sequential metaphors for things which lack – and it’s not something the trees can blow back into the nook of your lobe – but the images hang – inscribed by plight andor awe that takes us andor tiny monsters with inkjet fingers andor seeing the stereotype that kills you andor casting lines, setting traps, swinging with intention andor taking back the sense of agency andor throwing ourselves at one another until we crash like fusion fish in a bowl andor etching our names - contextualized - into history andor finding the smoothness that lets us be andor waking up and writing it down

red trees

77 jewel

i'm watching feet
from the sidewalk
pass by


spare me
for an object
your change, sir


look to the streets
for the city
you see

song for music

pop the bass

line cord slap

a rhythm pulled

spun off fingers

a measured silence

into sound mosaic

(i stood there dancing

it moved me)

such a note, a beam, waving

restless through the air

it spoke

in movement, shifting

sullen vibrations, over

cyclic pitches, a

tone

words about difference

strewn with abandon

makes us think, gesture

get angry, move mail boxes

dash out of answers

still thinking

this sound

as median

a combination of

makeshift, folk filtered

fast fusion imagery

postmodern, un-order

indie message melody

new noise, novafunk

art

(and this too moves me)

RIDE-

homefront

ok, i’ll tell you where i live but

don’t come seething: stretched cross them

blankets traded fur for smallpox:

smallbox

to live in

.

these parts partial to dollar signs

dinners wrapped in tinfoil-n-trees quick

look! last chance save tomorrow to see

some thing profound

natural, illuminate

by the sun then them moon stars:

not no, not none of them no, them fake

lights that inebriate this city

when the trees go down

.

transfixed fictions of some better

brick and chloroform

plastic handy little sub / division

revisions – public waste

where methane shadows take

cover in the cracks

the veins

the sense of agency

.

rivers run dank shit smell red

your wrist

if you cut it

.

fuck it – not where you live

.

i remember when: buffalo

on the cutbanks

moose herds on Queensway left

droppings to dodge

.

smiles at the prospect

their a dime a dozen ( them people

herds ( out to the fringe

industry

back to the metropolitan off city centre

parking lot smell of revolution

.

everybody’s got a secret

ours is a stench

.

think back, like a microwave in reverse, when

these streets were trails – stories were spoken

stink was a quality – selling out wasn’t an option

home was everywhere

.

them city / in fluoresces

them fucking reservations

.

hold out this place in your hand

offer up – then withdraw

squeeze

ink out

till the map

no longer carries names

or direction

.

both hands in the melting pot

.

the transit derails someday

heading south: past them red trees

(insufficient sub zero

(winters:

nostalgia – astringency for

the season

passing on in silence

.

picks-up some autonomy and

returns home with a belly

full:

of Pacific salmon

.

here, we are voices muffled

over-exaggerated / agitated assailant

hushed in

by big trucks

pinch-point chip-belts

beehive burners and smoke stacks

band saw teeth

gas alarms

sirens vibrate / pulsate from

the frame of this basin

tire rubber with engine brakes

fakes

gunshots and silent alarms

/ fallen woodland

agricultural wasteland

snow on its tip toes

adolescent acid rain and

abandoned street corners /

.

the voices here

a configuration of nerve endings

that blitz

tiny impulse sells

shifting – switching and

absent

.

seasonal depression stalks

like Monday morning and

all that there over

consumption

– even the blackbird leaves us

come winter…

.

setting on A

MOON BURN