Wire Tap(e) Wurms

The transcribed copy of a block of improv I performed recently
at The Mudd Puddle Cafe in New Paltz.

"Then, when I knew nothing more than the present moment,

I was the breath, the whisper, the gasp and the choke of light and sound.

I was infinity.

I will kill every last one of you, to get back in.
To unlearn.
To become..."

- Fatima Ros

My spastics carry the busk and its ardor in baskets knee-scraped crown wards kept vinegary tayberrys cherubs ignored as their biological genitors fledged

as destroyers forgot and mislaid they.

He was closet-ejected, skinned-out of a turtlenecked vanguard
like the soft crux crucifix of texas barbeque and the patron st. narc himself
is feisty with a hella-fine halter-topped hellion on her lucky seventh sinners diurnal on the
gonnorhea baby-back rack...

And it rains bovine herds and strays upon the strung strings of a
lazaret oratorio in F.

And the duplicity of every last feral gulliver that broke my 4th wall of ferroconcrete's gonna wage war in the oxidized ossuary that holds you and I.

Must love animals, picking scabs, and silent loaded weapons.