Noir no Noh Journey: a Forest Fragmented Reversal Pose

The Memoir of Dadaist Detective

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~Noir no Noh Journey:

a Forest Fragmented Reversal Pose~


City or house, a sole alias supports a lung beneath a simulated plastic soul. At the head of the first flight of a begrimed stairway, leading up from a broken entrance-way, on a street by the Del Sloraine Theatre, stood a door. Behind it was the office of Hazelton Dzeusas. Dzeusas was a massive meandering aggregate of equivocations. Whether he was dead or alive depended on who came through the door before the clock hit a minute past three in the morning.

Note in a dead man’s hand

>> Suitable gift apartments are classified by the court.

I hate you – slimy-gloams and thespians dance under the midnight sun.

the corner raven is watching you,

like a tongue around a thistle drum,

a strip of smoked paper,

a pencil point tracing

on an eye’s sooty surface.


First Observation after finding the note:


A surface strips a documentary remainder into the outsider’s existential standpoint (See David Lynch’s “Tuesday’s Lagoon Serenade”), facts fall in a fractal of farce – An inefficient friend lathers the gratuitous liver. The Protagonist/Victim in a Petty Noir better know a good dentist/anthropologist. A Hard-boiled Mystery mulls the mumbling mind in a numbing wine of conjecture; find the Erhu player before they do (don’t tell Jacques).


Sign above the counter at the Enticing Erhu Grill

The beautiful sea is different.

To know the reluctant battery,


spirits’ songs in lower economics.

Sleep brings toad shadows to the party.

You are not new.





He walked along MacAdams Street, the theatre goers had long left the sidewalks for home or candle lit encounters. Reaching the wider cross street, he contemplated garish billboards featuring a dissociation of sensibility – motives for murder rose on the steam of the street. Gradually there was a will, and the cigar posed back and forth.



To the left were sound stages, like grappling hooks in reality. His eyes crawled over the jagged cracks in the sidewalk beneath him – verticals following the dancing seals’ explosion. Walking over to the tattered bulletin-board, he read the notices, knowing all streets lead to the murdered and those who saw them last.





~Bulletin-board Notices~

The beloved embryo acts on its own.

Camp in front of the temple to reduce the naturalness.

Participate in liars.

The conversion can be a small part of the solution.

What a snow mountain trailer is when pearls perish.

The Lovely Lady sails tonight – spatula together.


The Erhu player was aboard The Lovely Lady. The swank steam ship was set to leave for Zahmphosise ( See Fishbane’s postcard to his cousin Flexham). As he arrived, he saw a woman running proudly on the deck towards certainty and despair, like a clock racing towards New Year’s.

A shot rang out. A knife blade kissed a heart. The brain was broken. Cellophane foamed at the mouth, like a popped champagne bottle, and he pondered –


It’s terribly shiny.

Carpenters only worship stronger veils.

Lip joy for crawling treasure bean ants;

A handful of noise breaks the heart in half.

Every speaker knew the tree of vanity –

And in doing so,

you push everything

around the spatula into the sky.



Closing observations:


The Erhu player wanted nothing to do with Jacques, after she corresponded with Fishbane. Hazelton Dzeusas was a fool, stupidly sent money to support crazed Canadian truckers, and hated the theatre goers who paid his bills. A mirror is better than a knife in a fun house. Tragic Doggerel was a death sentence. It’s a great time to sail away to Zahmphosise, or maybe El Zothique.



2 thoughts on “Noir no Noh Journey: a Forest Fragmented Reversal Pose

    1. elmediat

      Glad you enjoyed. I tried to keep the outline of a typical hard-boiled noirish detective mystery. Just enough connective tissue for the reader to fill in the implied spaces. Using over extended metaphors, similes, and imagery I wanted a surreal ambiguity of where, when, and spacey narrative.
      I used mostly my scrambled-translated Dada lines as a base, and incorporated a few bits from a recent text and pulp mystery from Black Mask Magazine ( 🙂

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