rou_______________________as in rue


the chain of alcoholism lashed the generations of Irish poor
 Irish Jewish and Chinese and the dead walking on
  they said i was Chinese when I was a kid
  i got proof theres that picture  taken at  Windsor station 1959
        photo booth   1959 it must have been the summer before he died
 i was  with my father   1959
                   i'm a kid and its  a  few months before he died
  they used to tell me
                       you look Chinese 

 and the   chain 
            it lashed holding back
                         the free and good

 there's a lot of prisons filled with hungry men
(not the rich ones with country places  to go each summer)
     (but city  bums)
   (i dont feel sorry for any of them)
              a lot of prisons

   filled with the good and the bad

      the blind and good with the good gone bad
         the world's  a mad house
                                             chock-a-block with rich and poor 

             room for more
                              do we get out ?
                                       does the body stop
                                                                                suffering  ?

  i never been good at making money 
  never good at the war
   never good
       never never

.   and i been judged pretty hard by god and the almighty buck

  i guess
 it runs

  in the blood

the blind and good mixed with the good and bad
the world a  bedlam

and the poor go banging pots pants kettle drums
to the eternity of time



and a day empty stomach


         when i was a child and lived here  (cote st paul )  and
                   went to visit my grandfather  here (the west end little burgundy) i would
often more often than not be hungry going there hoping to eat
    going for consoling
                                            ___ my father had died  2 3 years before at 29 in 59  
                                                     right in front of me right before he died
                                        in our small place on Fulford street

  and my mother and  sisters and brother /all of them younger
      at this time of my life lived in cote ste paul ville emard

     and i was mixed up and the memories are  painful (numb dumb)
                                                                          to this day

    (and the thing with them kind of memories is they're kind of censorious
             blocking your mouth as you come out)
                    (Knocking up the passage you cant see as saying)

                              (sacrificing life and death )

                       i can hardly get to the point

           i was hungry   getting there
                      and more often than not  hungry when i left
                     he never fed me/ never offered to
                    /except once / the old man
                   from ireland
                         the old man
                         from the war
                                   old man who's son had died my father
                    old man with his barking voice
                     who'd been to War world war 2

     Once he did make potatoe soup and I remember that time with gratitude
  it was the best soup I've ever tasted

    he made great soup
   and why he never made it that often

  but he was poor  _ living in one room with Harriet his second wife, whom he never married

              he was poor and never smoked before four in the afternoon
             and then
                           only when he was drinking
 he smoked cigarettes and i thin k i had tea

   but there was more time than one when he didnt have that even

    and he had no phone and i'd just show up having walked miles to see him

   at Grandpa's Grandpa's house which was  a room on Saint Antoine street

    until they got him moved ou t

     a social worker came along got him moved into the place on Guy and Notre-Dame
                  and that's where he lived with Harriet till he died and she died

                the building's still there    it was  a peaceful place
   he changed when he was there

     things changed time s changed

     yet the hunger's there
             in my stomach still

              it's there yet
                      the hunger

                     a  (permanent?)  pit in the stomach

 that's hunger for ya



and the

now dig on the other side below hep to the fictions its
working like dude that s the place. so doya bother with this?

________________ blahblahblah________________ it was an idear.


man becomes woman                   become I think its crap that line it dontnot work.

                         becomes woman

             becomes wave water wend
                             becomes that which is sky comes

                                                      comes her wave becomin'
                       the startle of a wave-instant hut-sign in degree south
                     as breast mouth  (maybe this can be salvaged)

                       the lonely man
                                                        the unbodied one

on the other hand, there's
  how Mona and Jill see it is it's a cliffhanger novel winding the forest of ten the degree south a farrago of jewels and boxing~!

                      that's how fiction determines its becoming    __ along  the forgotten noun proper predator

               _ is a character fiction before its becoming real. what metamorphoses body and design.Signing the air with crossing feathers. And the whole hobo down   ~.

.____________________ Now you gotta agree thats  better with the scratchouts.

I am soft to love. her body's gone right past. another country.
as far as length goes. but its breathing to me over the sea.
from over the ocean. that's you. thats her.

_____________________________________________________ But Mona and Franny arent related to that I personal stuff. Iknow! I know! KEEP going third person third and fourth persons.