like anyone gives any kind of an excretion about what you have to say if you don't include a picture of what you look like with your editorial poem

by Kenn "Ken" Fliegen

tomorrow is just another day where the milk bottles will sit on the front stoop of use to no one except the fattening spiders whom i have named after the sons of quarterbacks, sons inevitably doomed to failure or front-office jobs (john staubach, jerome bradshaw, phillip unitas, deavours kemp). i used to

practice
clean living
and now believe, so
the only pesticides in my apartment come in on the vegetables, each apple preserved like Lenin, and in the smokes i keep in the top drawer of my steel writing table. i prefer malburros but smoke kinsington classics ultralights because i'm a habitual bin shopper.

(and i do mean where)

the sticking places

teacher came in
shot an arrow into little bow-wow's eye (actually, it was a pencil
a first-grade fatty) he had been busying himself with eating clayballs
and said "class, take out your papers and title your papers "what to do in case of not an emergency"
i handed mine in and said you listen
to donovan, dont you?

i, too, was a first-grade fatty.


Idolator see Kenn Fliegen

The online stylings (still contains a few curlers) read Kenn Fliegen's new berry

email Mercator Pile contact Kenn Fliegen











Drachen Fliegen is a sustaining member
(and I do mean member)
of the "Naturally Fucked Up"
web alliance
In association w/ D.A.R.E. and the President's Council on Joints and Syringes