Currently writing a book that explores the Psychogeography of my hometown. Going to be a mix of exploration logs and fictional stories based around specific historical events within the town as well as specific locations. Hope you enjoy.

Cold. Smoke on my breath. Feel disconnected. Welcome home, who are you? Shuffle past childhood arena. Clothesline of remembered narrative, obstacles of youthful frolics pinning me down. 1-2-3! You're out!

 

This is just something I'm working on. Not sure where I'm going with it at the moment. Let me know what you think.

HYPERBOLIC GLOSS:

These are glory days for Invisible Driving. I’ve discovered the core position, The Empty Car. While performing The Empty Car I’m in the driver’s seat with feet on pedals in the normal arrangement but all of me above waist level is bent over, resting on the passenger’s seat. I have the mirrors set so that I can still see perfectly well but to all observers the car is unoccupied. It’s incredibly funny. We’re talking radnopolis funny. Impossible for me to pull this maneuver without cracking up into a squizzling, snerchified hysterical laughter. I laugh with a nervous, giddy delight at the sheer absurdity of it. I laugh with a childish delight at the outrageousness of it. I laugh with an anxious excitement, agitated by the risk. But I laugh most uncontrollably as I imagine the reactions of the passengers in the cars who see this apparition. The ghost car.

Is left right on consumer survivor issues...?

These poems are just another example of why I don't take trips down memory lane very often.