13 Planet of the Arts Vol. 3 Number 4 I heard a woman while we were talking was she crying or laughs over by the dried up fountain much like the hyena pacing one end to the other with the occaisional grim outburst i could not call it laughter immmediately i did not like that zoo nothing but wall to wall cage. july 9th Kika Thorne Mipyy, great horse his teeth were as big like rocks as he felt the earth’s spine beneath him his hands were as heavy as salt as winter was woven web-like about his body for if it were anything indeed, as long as it was hard for it was the back of the great horse he was riding jan 11th 1987 ECL St. Francis The way she moved me Through the blissful luster. The diamonds were gloss. | could hear the far away sounds. much like having my ear. to the train track. The echos of your buildings. comes clear, like glass. your own animals, afraid of you, heaving their own lament St. Francis! Where are you now When | need you! Frank Gaudet | GOODNIGHT IRENE These are the days of people in vials Preserved In a kind of formeldehyde of life Forever staring out And floating Forever dead Stamped with labels To classify The individual is dead The company takes care of him These are the years of classification To exist on floppy disc planets - Puppets of movements Their outlets of boredom being killing But torture is preferred And there is no rotting stench The formaldehyde takes care of that And the band is forever playing Goodnight Irene Jerry Stochansky We Moved In Together Well, hey! Lover boy Things, things, they just ain’t What they used to be. Once upon a time it was Hot nights unending Your cum slick between Our sliding bellies. Now it’s cool coffee; Dry toast across the table, An empty corn-husk whisper - Against the cheek. The irony here Is this, who gives a cold fuck? Karen Opas Hoje] suajAny Planet ofthe Arts Vol. 3 Number 4 Theard a woman while we were talking was she crying or laughs over by the dried up fountain much like the hyena pacing one end to the other with the occaisional grim outburst i could not call it laughter immmediately i did not like that 200 oreeeen nothing but wall to wall cage. The way she moved me Through the blissful luster. july 9th The diamonds were gloss. Kika Thorne I could hear the far away sounds. much like having my ear, to the train track. The echos of your buildings. comes clear, like glass. your own animals, afraid of you, heaving their own lament St. Francis! Where are you now When I need you! Frank Gaudet GOODNIGHT IRENE These are the days of people in vials Preserved Ina kind of formeldehyde of lfe Forever staring out And floating Forever dead Stamped with labels To classify The individual is dead The company takes care of him These are the years of classification To exist on floppy disc planets Puppets of movements Their outlets of boredom being killing But torture is preferred ‘And there is no rotting stench The formaldehyde takes care of that And the band is forever playing Goodnight Irene Jerry Stochansky We Moved In Together Well, hey! Lover boy Things, things, they just ain't What they used to be. Once upon a time it was Hot nights unending Your cum slick between Our sliding bellies. Now it’s cool coffee; Dry toast across the table, An empty corn-husk whisper great horse + Against the cheek. The irony here his teeth were as big like rocks Is this, who as he felt the earth’s spine beneath him gives a cold fuck? his hands were as heavy as salt as winter was woven web-like about his body Karen Opas for if it were anything indeed, as long as it was hard for it was the back of the great horse he was ing 13 jan 11th 1987 ECL