tij postamble in which a donut appears to jude in the atacama desert and they have a conversation with a stray phoenicoparrus andinus

jude, having experienced the apocalypse in advance within themself and not just once but as a continually recreating thing, is struck mentally ill and becomes fey exudes the whiff of death and is shunned by the segmented citizenry retreating into the atacama desert to live on whims and aphids of the wind

 

another starlittered night and our schmucks curled into the sand muttering irrational numbers and mapping the spirits of solomon onto future mutations of time while untaxonomized insects skitter across the wasteland of his genome and in the befallen dreams and visitations great winged eyed breasts galomph across liminal airs and settle on our hermits corpse and from it pull thin long sinews of dewfed meat shrieking all the while of love

 

it has been as hal blood foretold on a most senior executive floor of apotheosized institutionalizing money that as one removes oneself from the ultimate game of exoteric magic and does not adorn oneself with the common compensating sentiments and is too strange to find those little communal niches of the adapting dispossessed sometimes bobbing on the fangsome seas one enters parallel worlds of fallen hallucinations and crumbled spells

 

so jude awakens in the parched night and lo a boston cream donut rises in the north whole unbitten shinining like fresh genitalia entering its fated arc in the godless heavens and approaching its zenith pulsing like unrequited desire its centre bursts and from the egg of its pale yellow goo a stray phoenicoparrus andinus who peeping quacking chuckling descends and snuggling into jude saying says

 

if unreflective folks start businesses fall in love and visit nature on vacations and those burdened with dissettled hearts and minds preoccupy themselves with metathoughts about business love and nature disengaging from normalized society to indulge their preoccupations what then do the patapeople do

 

we ride bicycles and drink absinthe

 

but youre not riding bicycles, youre not drinking absinthe

 

in physics one rides a physical bicycle, in metaphysics one rides bicycles of thought, in pataphysics imaginary bicycles ride you even as you ride them and so with absinthe and so with everything, but what were you doing in a boston cream in the godless heavens

 

mining poaching tourism highways hydrocarbon exploration fragmentation diminished biodiversity possible extinction - i hide where i can

 

as the endangered doo

 

blood is right for blood but patas right for pata

 

blood and pata are both inmates in the same gaol and while bloods a zooid of the warden colonial animal, pata has a continual escape route blood can never access or understand

 

we escape nest and bank, tourist and home

 

we leave the clutter of the exotatic to develop routes for us and others to pilgrim through

 

we hide in donuts and forests, phonemes and disquiets, to avoid the jailors fists

 

we love kind freaks who dont fit

 

we love the round and silent sun

 

thanks for visiting phoenicoparrus andinus

 

lets snuggle a bit first

 

ok