1

Prayer of a Kind for Remembering Her Name 

Levinia you are the starburst of the carol of Christmas

You are the variance of variorum, which is I forget what.

But you are the history of my being myself

without the self of me being you. jIts purveyors should try to

make me lovely again in my own eyes

and in the eyes of the sacred love of 

No one has your ass. NO One is so 

Levinia. 

2

For Sophie

Sophie Webdell My my my

Where are you my snow goose

here in heaven without snow

but coming soon. 

I have the thing of the thing of the thing

in my eyes. This is Akkadian for 

what the heck is this, the Fourth?

What I'm saying is there nothing purer

that your tears and nothing truer than you heart

and nothing sweeter than you. You. You.

Boo. It's actually Halloween.

3

Jenny

Jenny

I have heard Germans call you yenny. 

Whoa who are you? 

HB

 apsoigyosapodig

Dear Reader,

There is this misunderstanding about honey, that it is pure and good. The fact is though that the average honey container contains only about 45 percent honey and that is the truth. The rest is just sweet atonal stuffing. 

Honey should be pure, even at the expense of making it more expensive. Its purveyors should try to love the bees, who make the honey, and should take for their example the bees themselves who love all the creatures on the planet with a model, nonmonetary intelligence. If they cannot love the bee and cannot refrain from adulterating their honey with corn syrup and saccharin or what have you, that product should be called "honey product." 

All this goes for honey at the farmers market too. Demand it. Desire it. Follow through. Ask for certifications. 

Dooby dooby doo. Alonso.

                                8813025971

A Small Palace of Truths Lying Together Remarkably Beautifully

{{{{{

Virginity is fucking and fusing with fire and divers fervor and five-petaled times the reality of fire. There is no other virginity. None. 

********

Chi is the steam of chai. Watch that steam shit around and swirl, you'll find the first's is rexactamundo the thing that were is, man. Christ is chai too. Christ is chi too. Together they good. 

0000

T is the Via of Volume times Variable Cheese. Via being the geomantic symbol of motion and instability. And the variable Cheese being whatever is angled profusely toward the unfagged Lincolnshire Posy of Time. Is there is nothing more beautiful than volume that properly constrains the motion of time?

Nogat

Look: Chartres. The rose window and the maze. The whole form of the place trusts the Lord to bring the body of Jesus home to it, and the embodiment of Time is HIM, which is fucking capital. And time moves through it in the same organized way that Christ asked us to move, when he himself asked us to people the church. Valence after valence of what is beautiful and timely touches the truth of the spirit. The windows fuel the antinomies of blah blah, which are grace and expectation--expectation because there is always something more to give, and God expects us to care. To love. To exert ourselves. The cathedral lifts and exerts herself: "Have sex with me my Lord." 

&&&&&&&&&&&&& And

The catbird king as well as the second son of all that is says Yo. 

**(*(*(*(*(*(*

 

"Let's make the world more beautiful by making us more beautiful by making the world more beautiful by making us more beautiful by making love more beautifully by making every language more instinctively itself. Lotsa good chow is good too. And friends. And turning up the volume at the dance. You might feel lost. You might feel overwhelmed by change and difference. Tough.

Okay have the bees give you some honey. Have the pitcher pitch you another curve. Have the shitscape say you is shit and sing it back. And then cry. And then try again. Sorry that's the method. Little by little things might get tougher. 

HB

*******

I'm fucking done, said HarChartes. 

Still I want to see the real fucking Big J Lord come. 

I want my Mary to be my mother

forever shit-visibly blue. And I want you.

And I want her. And I want Her.

I know this is expecting a lot, 

but catbirds do.

H.

peaoismgdmiosaeru

Here's a suggestion from a man who speaks Yoruba now. 

Why nt we miggers call niggers miggers? Let erywon use it too. Sound   pri much     same,  takes the edge off th'. All the cool of the clay of things man, swith nigger, and almost all with migger too. So whi  nt man.? Claim i'. Suggestion from a white man with black in his belly of great many things. Yoruba for 

yiah ma' . 

migger. 

HB

 poaseimgiaodsugadsgj

• We are TODAY going to end the problem of reusable shopping bag mismanagement. 
• 
  
• Today. 

Of course, today is a big day. So just stop thinking I care. 

Look, sometimes we just need a bag. Sometimes we forget our nice cloth shopping bags that say "food" 

Or "Stuff."

1. You can buy a bag from the checkout maybe.
2. BUT
3. The bags contain microplastics.  One of them, thrown away in the water, is as much a danger as 120 of the thin plastic ones. I know. My bag lady told me.

People often feel guilty about throwing das bagsies away. 

Not to mention the population problem. The bagsies sort of multiply in the broom closet.

It's embarrassing too because the broom is gone. 

Which in turn means it's inoperant in terms of conditioning Skinner's floor which is the bedroom of your son. Skinner is a good name. 

But the point of the matter is, what is going on here?

Why not make a decent hemp bag?

Cool.

Me: How much do you think a good hemp bag should cost?

Mary-in-Blue: Well, I think one could be fashioned (notice the word) for about 4 dollars. 

Me: fashioned?

Mary-in-Blue: Yes, why not? Fashion is a statement, or can be: das you care about beauty. Das you seek excellence. That nothing fazes you because I AM is with you in blue. Note please however service and courtesy are perennially stylish, as you have observed because a Pandyan king has returned to instruct you. But do do note: the wearer of any clothes is the worker and the worker is the last one to expect praise. In general, insist to yourself that what you wear always come as a frame holding an accurate and not purely avant garde picture of you. Don't try to look ahead of your time. Look like today. Look like boy. Look like girl. Look like bi. Look like trans. You be you. You be yo. You be yowsa. You be sleeping bear. 

Pollution problem solved chunk chunk

Guilt problem too chank chank

 -----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The project will also involve--to say it again--das Volk-yolk, which is to say every nation, being able to return extra bags to the stores they were purchased from.

Das bagsies Das Bagsies will then be washed and reused, or recycled, or any other imaginative thing that imaginative people will come up with. 

I recommend Tintorento though--a game I know in which nursery children jump on mattresses of shredded hemp. 

Listen darling. Trump has seen to it that hemp can legally be grown. Can we stop being idiots and start taking advantage of that simple fact? Hemp is an incredibly worthwhile plant to grow, partly because it refreshes the soil better than many of the best fertilizers. 

Or is that fact maybe an inconvenient one for fertilizer companies?

ME: what do you think might be a reasonable price for fashion statement bagsies?

MARY. I could see a 16 dollar one doing pretty well indeed.

ME: Do you think stores will make money on these bagsies. 

MARY: Oh no, I think they will generously work on this and see to it that they chink any profits into the chunkster for environmental causes. 

ME: And what might we prioritize?

MARY: Well, right now I would encourage bees. Love the bees. Hemp your bees. And if you do not know what I mean, hemp the bees knees. It's fun, I see you're wearing two belts today to prevent yourself from loving the bees too hard. Just trust me. But trust me too, you can hemp them into bumbling happiness. Check out Xerces society, which I know can't pay you're because you're my worker drone, not theirs. 

ME:  Minnesota and certain portions of Wisconsin have recognized as a pretty good writer.

MARY: yes, but just don't let the honey of fame go to your head. Remember the best way to worthwhile fame is to follow your assumptions. Ephesus works too. Would you like to talk some theology? 

ME: I think there's more room to talk about the bees.

MARY: Well of course there is, but why not talk about you? I've called you an infinite being. I've called you my favorite creature in all the universe. And you took a flashlight along to the lake and said you were not, you were not. And the flashlight remembers nothing because your hand was upon it. And the lake is alive because you said das thing. 

ME: (sighing) I'd really rather stick to the bees. 

MARY: (fading out) Wonderful then, have fun. 

ME: Well there she goes again. I mean take it with a grain of salt, but I don't know why I keep talking to myself. 

 Bioswirski works. Use it. Demand it. Stop killing bugs with something so evil as biological um wait these is da best

dast aardly good no kemicals. Except the good kind. Never use anything else

simple as that. I implore you, said that lady upstairs who is not named Mary, but just sounds and quacks and walks like a duck when she feels like it or tigers it. Figers it. Fingers it. Says, yes the times they are a changing. We must buy Bios

it wirkskis. Do not imagine it don't. It do. 

Tall Shaman say so. small Soren Shams also. 

BioSwirski. Buy, use, by by bugs, except only the buggies that hurt babies and all of us are. So use 

BioSwirski. Are we sensing a theme?

HB

 Shhhh, I have several ideas

 

The cathedral spaces of Chartres, say, even the unseen ones, are peopled with the fairies of nuance. We just can't dance. 

------------------

So here below, absolutely no kidding, is lyrics to a song, the music of which I'm inviting anyone from anywhere to write. Free. It's all yours, all public, all giveaway, all grace, all pitch hey batter batter and invitation to swing.

 Just be careful not to bother Sophie Webdell in her compositional efforts, because she may just bee as persnickety and rude as her mother, Valerie, and might bite the honey. I love them both to the nth degree of the diatonic scale of the s degree, plus. They, even at a distance, have been at the center of my redemption and survival, and I thank them all unanimously with all my Pandyan military heart, optional breakfast provided (made by dudey me) whenever she-she wishes. I cannot believe my eyes sometimes, even though I need them.

On another note, the Shades of Gray ought to return sometime. No breakfast though. We have some playing to make up for. 

On another note: F

On another note: uh Nobel please. I like the good stuff. 

But without further ado, das first-time song, tenk yu tru blue but you did not write it so toohnt sink u cin take credit card from moi poi is good we should try it with sugar and wheat...

aisdmgosdpaogiiff (not part of the song)

 

C                                    G                          A

It’s a waste to know you can't apply here,

P                           G                 F                 P is 464 of G

it’s a junk to know the night is on,

A                 F64                      G                 G7m     

when gold perception ever comes upon you...

C7               Bflat           C7               D                 A

the baby train of love can chug on through.

 

Chorus

Come on thru, come on thruuuu

7       7       7       v        9       10

I just loved the baby train of you,

7       7       7       v        9       10

7       7       7       7       7       cn

Come on thru, come on thruuuuu

po     po     po    cn      ty      cn      v

Make the thru delicious kind to me.

 

My man's Typee, the second son of Aldrin

(who was the second man to step upon the moon)

but I do swear the number 2’s my favorite

we’re talking sweater, red apples and God's hair.

 

This is the last burst of our lost communion,

therefore I call thee beauty man adieu,

but if he’ll be my baby train believer

I’ll never say a whisk of ta-ta-doo.

 

Chorus

This is the last broom of our last communion

therefore will I never say adieu.

Come on thru, come on thruuuuu,

shovel steam don't disregard the cue.

HB

 This is 'a the U.S. under Trump. with podcaster Marc Maron

test,' Obama says of

gets candid with  n y[plmjhuytyrt

He gets candid

He gets candide

igdisogdmisdg

Cognitive hiker, summarizer of footsteps

rest your feet and sla

ther your meditations

with the absolute inconsistencies 

of being interpreted by God here. 

-------------=================++++++++++++++++++

Faith Be For Thee (for Sarah May Lissadell)

Fair one be not lost from me

I am the one who loves thee free and fair

And fully and lovely and simply and cue

the birds that do not love the simple song

of the way of flesh and the right of wrong.

There is no way for the grief we bear

to be the sweet of the sweet of flair

Oh my love be not love be the very one

I love. Oh love do not love the one I love

But be the thee I love. Oh sweet but no one’s treet

Be the very love the very very love I can’t defeat.

 

Oh God be the cadence of the last and the lamb

of force and the briefest int’rest of the dead

we love and free the one we cannot see

and love the free we cannot be. And then and then

find me once in the other sea undrowned

where the one of the lamb of the be of the end

is where the love of the best is gone.

Amen Amen.

(Sissyfuss-Zephyrus certifies this as

a poem by Robert Burns, recovered

from the space-time continuum 10-13-25.

The two lovers, making love in a boat, 

turned the boat over, and she, not

knowing how to swim, drowned to death

in exstacy. He )

)

HB

Declaration #2

People have given me the bird, or said loudly that they did not want to be touched, or said "you asshole," or hugged their children closer to them and hurried away. Yesterday, three women approached me, two of whom were clearly in need of healing touch. 

I touched the two on the shoulder as I passed them on the walk. They all pretended to be afraid and ran away. That is, they tried to make me feel as if I were a crazy person and a danger to society. Which sucks. 

I am Harlan Bjornstad, and I heal people. I do, I can. However, I will no longer be doing this--not until this behavior stops. It is insulting, demeaning, asinine and, at this point, mendacious. It makes me feel as if I can't be with people and that people can't be with me. It devalues my gifts. And although I know it's just a theater-game, meant to educate me out of my timidity as I face up to the extent of my gifts. I don't care though; it's a game I want to be ended. I am done with it. Really done with it.

Please listen up:

Beginning Monday, the 13th of October, I will not be healing, and will not return to the work until I receive a written apology from the three who were involved. They were dressed as nurses. One was named Shane, another Becky, and another Danielle. Only Becky has ever been a nurse, which is to say she was a nurse for about three years, but then quit because it was hard, which it is.

The incident occurred near HealthLinc, north of the railroad tracks and on the west side of Sturdy. Down the rails to the East was a bluebird and a tall thrasher, which are rarely seen together. But they were watching me use my Pandyan stick in a martial arts display and had decided to like each other long enough to view me. The height of their perch was 56 feet. It was a maple and next to the maple was a tall grass prairie plant called dock, which was used by the pioneers as well as the native Americans to wipe themselves after you know what. 

The apology will be sent to my home.

HB

Declaration

I want to say this only once. When I do consulting, I do it for free. I do not ever, and will never, negotiate for a fee. My opinions are mine. They are not bought.  And I do the work on every occasion for the improvement of the world by means of the encouragement of meritorious design. Nobody buys me. I am a free sane man. Please no solicitations for anything or with anything. I have enough to live on already. What do I look for in my work? Well, fine craftsmanship, beauty, and the sense that the thing, if purchased, will make humans measurably happier. If these are not part of the product I am unlikely to recommend it. I know lies when I see them. I catch trademark dishonesty, and will leave a store immediately if I feel I am being messed with. I urge you not to test me on this. And please leave me be to do the work. And when I am done, let me buy anything and the real thing that I might like to purchase. 

Harlan Bjornstad (Sissyfuss-Zephyrus)

 apoisemgdsguiiutg

Schlomo Minz said "Schlo it down and then you will hear." You will not find this in any books. He was seven, and kept the motto for himself. Which is fine because it was his, and, somewhat shy and unwilling to make himself a person other people might consider egotistical he kept it close. But the book can be found in an attic. Why is it always the attic of no one's house but in the basement of no one's house but in the middle floor of something somewhere no it's lost because it died a Schlo death. But really he said it. I'll vouch for it. Duh. 

--------

All musical education is sexual education. All sexual education is musical education. There is nothing more sexual than playing an instrument except it isn't sex in the usual sense. I mean.  A violin for instance is more like  piece of furniture than anything though it does have a g string. And you can pluck it and we all don't know what the f hole means. I mean seriously. Look at the clarinet. You put it in your mouth. You play the reed until it finds a sound and wails. And the drum what is that but a pat a pat campaign to rap the sync of that sound? And an Orchestra is an orgasm building itself to beautiful proportions of statuary grace in telecommunication with one another as players, if you are one, and if you are a listener that's fine because that's you playing up there too. Anyhow, since we all need orgasms, let's all buy some instruments for our children's sexual education and love them musically into their fullest "ourselves," the "orchestra" and the "children." But of course we need to reimagine nothing other than beauty beauty beauty for all people.  

-----

So I was interested in the commentary by Hubler Ross about my not recycling. Who's Hubler Ross? My boss. A man of the cross. 

--------

Talent is not a thing that matters much. Follow-through is everything. Persistence is also everything, because in persistence persistence is love. Gravely. Then resurrectingly. Then Valiantly. Then variously. Then no one sees the thing. Then the thing is gone. Then it's bright again. Then the thing comes back. And that's fine, because we love persistently. 

Love 

Variance Fortlander is a place where all things are one. Where the place you want it to be is the place it is, and the place you want it to seem is what you really see, because what you see is the best and the best is the rest of the way of the year of the sheer joy of things the sheer joy of joy and the edge of joy is joy. 

-----

my India is getting its facts together already. I can tell.

-----------------------

Diaper Man Goes Commando

What, I said, quoting another Will, 

is the price of experience? Is it bought for all a man hath

got to do with it? Nothing. 

We used to wear rags for our diapers, 

I remember that for me. I remember 

wearing a soggy one. 

Gallop gallop I love horses. Could we have more horses, 

especially for the bounty and beauty of freedom,

and the children of them and how they frisk, criss-cross and roam?

I was eight. I wore my diaper to the beach

because my father said a dapper diaper boy 

was what I was--pooper and poopy and pissy

and sissy. He was a clever rhymer, 

plus a climber of all things relishable.

What a good man, no one every talked it truer,

nor clock ever tocked it smarter than me

that I was crumbs. Inflation of infancy 

disinflation of the tiger was what I wore, until today.

Today I declare a day of gallantry and swordsmanship

against the dork: no diapers but hooves

and all the turtles and doves and turtles of the dove

of the world will sing my god 

my god where for are thou my Romeo Pressure

Valiance is mine said the Lord of the scrum

So get out there and be a bum scrummer now go. 

HB

---------------------------------------------

Variance         (by Robert Burns, 1787) 

There is not a thing that I wish and knot

the verie thing I know that fills the scote

of the vibrancy of thy glorious face.

No human that lived has seen the glimpse

of thy gloaming, but the very lovely art

of thy face is what is what there is.

Come to me, my very love and be

What is not love but love of me

And hear the very gorgeous interest

that the very interest of God has blest.

Conjure the vest of not a thing that will

Be of the very sweet thought of thee

And hear the very beauty of thy face

💙\e¦",r（!ace. (by Robert Burns, 1789)

(Courtesy of Sissy-fuss-Zephyrus)

Faith 

There are low interest fortunes and sweet

sweet clementines that flower and flow till

the work is done, and the well is dug

and the human is found to be well

Call me stupid, but what is faith?

It is one height of love. It is the fill of peace

It is the simple homeward harmonies 

and the complement of gracious being.

Call me intellect but is it not one of the best

of the omniscient wagons of red beautiful paint

shining in the western edge of the year and 

yard? and the noon time and variation 

of the clarity of the noon time?

         (Courtesy of Sissyfuss-Zephyrus, 2025

            Because he wrote it) 

 unisntehsimguisjaoppalsugnekosujgid

I sit behind the stage of life, practicing my lines with Mary...dkgidus, I mean when you have lines like that how do you do it yourself, alone?

Beauty is visible everywhere as soon as you look for it. Beauty is nothing if it's not the thing that love creates. Beauty is trilling the sweetness of itself, if there. Isn't there the existence of old Irish? Freed pahsh fellow marzch. I am the thing you know.

I have not said it quite the way I want to say it yet. I said it a moment ago and now I do not remember, because its forgetting had to be an unfolding for something much more important. 

Beautiful things say good day. So please say hello to people on the street and in your offices. And on the phone. Beauty is what is what we find when we look at the beauty of the lilies and don't see it because it's in with all that other verbiage and foliage of verbiage. Find the lily of the field.

 And we need one another's eye beams , which are real.  Some say eye beams are not real, but such not so beamish people are not looking. And there is a holy sheaf of evidence that we want to be looked at except when we are ashamed. R

Bring back my wife. Which is to say bring back my life. Which is to say everything. Which is to say stop. Which is to say stop. Which is to say I'm not kidding. Which is to say, nothing works in this heart of mine. 

The end is the end. Karim aplicabrindo in felas mitorbis can, which is Orbis Tertian: "I am the thing that you do not know." 

Just shelve the remorse and do the work. Think about what God has said, when he said colloquially hello my friends, do you have a job for me? Lift your spirits and return the good to the good. Wonders will result. But I don't care. 

Sissyphus-Zephyrus. 

Orotundo Belundromora. Just a guess. Seems like a stretch though.

Yesterday it’s Sunday. Воскресенье. Once I wanted to help this guy who I think was maybe Czech on the train in Germany who had no German to speak of not that I did really but he had none anyway he went to bed and the conductor came in and wanted to know when the guy wanted to get up to be ready for his arrival you know his particular station. Well there was this back and forth and forth and back and Fortinbras came and found Hamlet dead and the dialogue went on without a single comprehensionary pearl.

So, I tried to think of the Russian word for “wake up” because these guys couldn’t even get THAT far, plus I had my Russian numbers still in my head and figured maybe a guy who’s Czech could maybe understand an American speaking a piss few words in Russian (it had been a couple years since I had had any Russian at all, I’m not James Bond or anything), but like I say I had the numbers, and a bit of the clockspeak. The best I could think of though for “waking up” was  Воскресенье, which technically means resurrection, although no one really knows how it’s done or any of the logarithms and roots or food groups that go with it, according to Garp.

So. I chickened out. I let the guy just wave the conductor away and then go back to sleep. And I left the compartment before he did, so I hope that he got where he wanted to be, like in somebody-friendly’s pants. So what’s the point? The point is thank you try to help, bless you. Do be doers of the word do. Because even God can’t help a guy from the upper bunk with a kazoo band if he doesn’t know how to depurple the beety beety borscht of time, said Kafka, who reads okay. And God goes away. 

Though again, say you’re the guy confused and sleepy. When you do wake up having overslept your destination, in a crush of fear and frustration, you just must rise and make do. There might still be time God willing and the creek don’t too (my choice one) to jump with one luggage and wait. Or too, walk with two luggage and date. 

Koan

 

The question mark butterfly really existed.

Today not so, they’ve all flown over the cliff

and so people no longer ask the way nowhere.

 

I learned Melanesian pidgin

back when I was a pigeon myself

Irridescent at the neck

and underappreciated

even by me

 

Now, may I be birdless beyond myself.

HB