Asemic Postcard 99 with postage


When Great Duke Archie(the Bald) of Hye~Brasilla was assassinated while on an ostrich, the Great War was inevitable. Historians debate the incident on the Grassy Knoll, but really, a Lord & Lady, um, frolicking with stirrups on a summer afternoon is just a distraction. Even if the great Duke and his guards had not been somewhat distracted by the frolicking, they would still be unable to protect themselves from the highly trained wolverines, mongooses, and Canayd’gin~eh geese.

it climbs

The heat was becoming unbearable as the temperature kept rising. They said it was a heat dome, an extreme~weather event. He stared at rippling air climbing up from the road’s skin; the light bending pebbled asphalt surface into a scorched wall. Twisting with the shimmering air, a cacophonous croaking storm bulldozes through his throat, leaving behind it, the wreckage of a whispered prayer – syllables sinking into a clogged drain.

The thing, a heart ape snake shadow, slithered in a clawed crawl upward/downward – hovering & nibbling at the edges of perception. Distance & Direction had exchanged places, leaving behind a  code-riving nausea in his bones.

Wanting to go home – trying to remember how he arrived in this place, on this uncertain day, at this undetermined time. That evil melting T , now paddling in the sky, had tethered the sun to the thin pale vapours, a doubting wildflower, smelling of languor & a sick salty sea-crust.

The way back was bolted to the pages of The Book, that insufferable book. Why had he picked it up? Why had he followed the folded direction past the edges of the page, where all removability had been drained away into the cracks of this road-wall?

His blistering vision trickled away, as it sought a horizon line. Skin & sweat swirled at the edge of consciousness, vanishing into the restless vertical vertices that were supine in a peripheral weeping blur. Now surrendering, that thing, a shadow of a shadow, climbed over him, with a cold empty caress, turning him inside out – a chewed wet glove.



Man found Dead in Public Library

 Giles Bohdan Boychuk – reporter

The ChapleWaite Daily Visage

Johaene Dexter Ward, of Portsmouth, British Columbia, was found dead in the ChapleWaite Public Library on Sunday. The air-conditioned library had been kept open for those having trouble dealing with record-breaking temperatures of the past week. The librarian, Zacharie Tallia Van Dorff, approached Ward late in the afternoon, to find the deceased man sitting in a library cubical.

Ward, a historian and folklorist, had been researching Sun Crawler legends, and had been reportedly looking for, The Whispering Sands of Iod. This book, purportedly, contains the earliest myths & legends about the Sun Crawler. Most scholars question the reality of such a book, though some think there may be a 19th century compilation of parts of The Book of Iod that was mistakenly identified as such a book.

Official medical reports indicate Mr Ward passed away due to a combination of heat, and an underlying medical condition. His remains will be returned to his family in Portsmouth for burial.

– from Coroner Notes of Dr. Francois Howard Balfour:

Mr. Ward had a history of seizures and asthma, which in combination with heat stress would account for his sudden passing at the age of 37. There are several points of uncertainty in this conclusion. Mr Ward appeared to have remained in the air-conditioned library for most of the afternoon. The only signs of exposure to the severe heat were signs of sunburn on his face, hands, arms, and upper chest. More curiously, the body showed signs of hypothermia, which could only be explained, under the conditions, as some implausible elaborate act of murder or a bizarre & twisted prank.

Dadaist Detective – The Piano Antioxidant Case

Era private eye ovulates piano antioxidant – sensation pauses similar lino, a sequel memento, pistachio soprano aims pallid dell’s dysphagia – ill mare sighs pretzel Esperanza in iambic; nil transistorized Shavuot, chill camaraderie, assorts em slowly, chiffon rave a still problem – deity cumulus nimbi.


The Isotherm hacks railed slothfully, and without patter aloud, until that Moll, bearing on the pokers of the bazooka the scurvy, broadened into strife; in the empirical respite, the wainscotting, absented and slouching, he cocked the cultivated putrefaction.


Issuance had railed sloughly, and without paucity alluvial, until that moulter, a pioneer above the bazaar polarimeter, the scutum breached into flamingos; in the emporial respite, the waistband, absolved and slouchy, foundered the rebirth of the cumshaw.


An explanation & apology.

I was looking through 66 Experiments by Charles Bernstein,   a list  of different creative writing exercises. I decided to play with several of these.


It just so happened that I had recently perused Francesco Marchetti‘s post, 2020…Inutile.  I selected the second stanza in his post, and proceeded to interpret it using Homophonic translation. At this point, I apologize to Francesco – as can be seen, the interpretation is quite absurdist, a vaguely Hardboiled Pulp Mystery prose poem.

My next step was to use online software to create a lexical translation. I used 2 different translation systems. The results were not exactly identical.


It had rained slowly and without pause almost until that moment,

beating on the poles of the beach the sea broke into strips;

in the empty restaurant the waiter, absorbed and slow,

he coded the cumulonimbus puzzle.


It had rained slowly and without pauses almost until that moment,

piping above the beach poles the sea broke into flaps;

in the empty restaurant the waiter, absorbed and slow,

fracted the rebus of the cumulonimbus.

I then decided to do a 7 up substitution for each of the translations. To make it interesting, I chose 2 different dictionaries. The first translation went through a substitution using Collins Essential Canadian English Dictionary & Thesaurus (2004). For the second translation, I used Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary, 5th ed (1948).

I included the visual compositions, because blog posts a better with some kind of visuals, and those who have no interest in this absurdist piece will at least have something to look at.  Thanks to all for your patience. More on Charles Bernstein.