Phase 5: Thinkfang
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Frank Edward Nora Thinkfang THINKFANG by Frank Edward Nora The First Edition was published in 2003 and was called Duskaway Parking . This Second Edition is being published on August 12, 2009 and was renamed Thinkfang . Published by Frank Edward Nora New Jersey, USA onsug.com • [email protected] Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/3.0/us/ INTRODUCTION (FROM THE FIRST EDITION) Duskaway Parking is composed of 1,103 little numbered poems called “Superiors”. I wrote these over the course of 11 years, from late February 1992 to late February 2003. The Superiors originally appeared in my weekly ezine, “OsoaWeek”, which I published on my website. The Superiors began as poetry, but over time began to include other themes. Some of them are brief essays. Others are like diary entries. And some are like little science fiction stories. They are full of beauty and ugliness, focus and blur, just like life. The best of them still amaze me, and the worst make me cringe and shake my head. But all of them are here, in this book, in their original form. One aspect of Superior that has confused some people is all the made-up words and names and places. These are straight from my hyperactive creative mind, and in many instances I feel they convey ideas and images and atmospheres better than any real words. And keep in mind the science fiction aspect, with all sorts of mysterious characters, locales, and powers. And also keep in mind that there are references to real, but obscure, things as well, which does tend to muddle things a bit... Duskaway Parking has its high points and its low points. There are great Superiors all throughout the book, though there may be stretches that are lacking. After years of living with the Superiors I am haunted by the beauty and strangeness of many of the phrases and passages, which often repeat over and over again in my mind. The “headers” of the Superiors change over time. Starting on January 1, 1996, I began dating the Superiors with 439. The Superior “Phases” represent new time periods in my life, where I felt a name change was in order, though they are all still “Superiors”. Starting with Duskaway 33, I began also giving the overall Superior number (in this case 833). So dive in and enjoy... the journey has begun... —Frank Edward Nora, October 14, 2003 CONTENTS Phase 1: Superior . 4 Phase 2: Parking . 178 Phase 3: Duskaway . 208 Phase 4: Hurricaner . 238 Phase 5: Thinkfang . 256 PHASE 1: SUPERIOR 4 SUPERIOR 1 Hemidawn the racer, cracks the demishock of morn coursing through the dim. And into the arch of the former is the nixter, and for never the corner is the yarster. This is the fine design of the crying. Empty in derivation, and less on the keys than in the eye, heavy fingers upon the board, lane adored in dream. Found a pond and liked it. SUPERIOR 2 To you, o master of nothing, I bequeath this feather of entity. Find it near the hollow waterwheels. Go then foolish man and seek your struggle. My gift to you is plague. My wish, fall. Neverbeginning, the simple rivertrickle dandy in its whistle. The day has come, but very long for you. SUPERIOR 3 Neither the trowel nor the dame are languid. Look, the state of night far college drive. See, the girlfriend is just barely a friend, young nightmare. In sleep I know I think. A daze is my only seen in a mall with a games are good. No pretend car! SUPERIOR 4 Ponder sorts of emotions in malls, flee my construct, and eat a cake from a shelf. For the stone, I, the solid liquid, never before decided a fate as temporary as this. In ways, I terminate this building, paint a good sign. Please groove forever, my lusty love, for the good grain, bulbous, holy, and blasting, stems twigs as I walk along, can’t compare to your form. A mathematician in a parking lot, inside the blankety-blank heat of her station wagon. Regard the silly nakedness of her yawn. If I wanna kick a door open, I’ll do it. 5 SUPERIOR 5 Anydaze will do cool focus mornings. Slender chicks nude in a vision, cute and steamy and ready, dressing. So the waterfall falls and the window down a road. Even in the evening, I corral a lot of fears and load them into a revolver and fire into the vast wheatfields of the occult, and delight in such a wonderful display of courage on the part of my dazzle. Now there near those woods special spirits patrol highways. Gone into the haze of dusk he chessed out, as a battler. Pawns are a good thing, but a nother way. Minions of mine are silly, but docile. Never unremember unlimber simmer for the tea! SUPERIOR 6 Lazy day and odd sun. Nine little pebbles remote in a vast deserted parking lot huddle together, speaking in relaxed whispers, having a little meeting. The clouds come. Thunder the darkening sky. Air the prime raindrops blossom forth in deluge collapsing onto the pavement. And the nine little pebbles have a little drink. SUPERIOR 7 Dank blended heart, pleasing all morons in matters of affairs of the bit match smoldering in saliva sanguinely. Less else is nonsense to snare. Bareful bugs in neat supple vim. College caterwaul, blaming of the vane. Stupid awards in afternoon breezes. SUPERIOR 8 Needed the tea am flimsy’s. Trash the airport meadow. This, matter thru wonder, dazed weaver’s undisaster. The drive rules, highway driving in cool weather. 6 SUPERIOR 9 Through grass-lined corridors of caramel steel, helmet of wood and carbonated milk. A sharp loud noise in the bookstore, mind blurring, my internal organs are now liquid. Melting into the arms of girl night, licking her tits. In pungent brightness she walked. I was crazy on coffee and ate candy. So many choices in mine mad matter, so simple and clear. Watching a television in a hotel room, drinking a can of soda in a hotel room. The air is chill. The lights are cool. SUPERIOR 10 Born, met with traces, gone, full of space. Cold ceramic oracle, tickle my lowers, shower my cowls. Hail to the many ways and days of the typesetter. And the fortune of our effort is the wheel we always hear, humming in the dark vapor of the basement, a cold testimony to the electric jello that is our life. And for all the majesty of mind, for where the oldest tree clings to dust, we are now, and forever never, to abandon the flavor, and indeed savor, the water we drink. SUPERIOR 11 A college hallway from before? Before me? Where exactly is this today, anyway? Wheel, see ya later. Be in delusion my friend, forget the best in everything. Time has come to do some speaking. No evening out in the end. Landscapes like to annoy you. Many folks who’re too similar are gathering around me. Pretend to be yourself, smell a pine tree, eat some M&M’s. Gloop mergers in Cleveland’s occult shops. A formula be iffy at best. I need her doorwayish way. 7 SUPERIOR 12 Might it not have been the depravity of some other sentienthood? But then, why would I preprogram avoidance of delving into the darkerside of humanity, else that the prior form and humanity are comparable in terms of the overt structure of their corruption? Power and understanding. These are diamonds, diamonds. I wield them both comfortably, as a modern crossbowman in a winter wood. With limitation, I am perpetually compelled to erase unknowing. But the matter is esoteric and not of this road. SUPERIOR 13 The coffee of your dreams is a medicated version of tan venom flavored highway gook. Try some sopping dry heavy popcorn in that damn chest of drawers. Breathe in vacuum lumber. The forecast is for rain, early at times. Suck the ammonia vent, my love. Forest crap frash delect mixim colder pennant cacophony whillip. Crows are fringe beasts of roadside perception—highway mystery birds—come and swallow this moth smear off my poor windshield, fine jackdaw! Please become very disenchanted with that cruller. SUPERIOR 14 SIZZLE—for formulas are dead, and science is stripped, and reality is mad as a flower. Corrupt as my ancestor sailed, he played childish games, equal to motion to pinball the secret. Shallow bread dunk in murky stagnant brack, the tired arithmetic splattered on hallway walls, super logic durable. SUPERIOR 15 Can the night and face and body in recently rain lawn dark and up, figure weird sign weird road, around the walkway to the corner to the wavy attack of field of doorway shimmer. This, the dream behind the dream, the real dream scarcely we ever see. 8 SUPERIOR 16 Bad banjo noise in cop car 5. None of your malarkey, Joe. Sinning regularly at gasoline-havens, wimping out at the slightest-boom. 135 unwed sweeties for smoochy. Catch a falling tar monger, Ted. Being a feather, I have no opinion. Being a diner owner, I cry always, in the rain, in the thunder nights, and lightning Dave went home too late—it wasn’t there. SUPERIOR 17 I area to deeply voice a booming call. In pleasing and blades this is the smaller enter unto me. Cautious? Can’t tackle her tickle her! Be in frenzy cap bless the sound, cool of an action.