Neighborhood

My neighbor's sex noises:
passionately recreated
by my neighbor's parrot.

What am I supposed to do? Write sober? As if.

Laphroaig's iodine.
Halls's menthol-lyptus.
Not as bad as you'd think.

What whiskey that's supposed to taste like mustard tastes like when you have a cold

Ash, charcoal,

death, and jasmine

Sensory sandwich, slightly stoned

Marvin Gaye;

two hot girls;

sound of frying oysters.

Garden of Earthly Delights, detail 4

Garden of Earthly Delights, detail 3

Garden of Earthly Delights, detail 2

Garden of Earthly Delights, detail 1

Poetry Challenge

My august employer recently did some high res scans of paintings in the Prado, including Bosch's Garden of Earthly Delights. I mean super high res. Go to Google Earth, search for 'Prado Museum, Spain', and there should be a white box thing you can click on. Best of luck from there on out.

The challenge -- I'll pick a detail once a day (more or less) and post a screenshot. Poetry responses in comments.

Game on!

Are taggers making nerdy font comments?

Some bridge tagger
has carefully painted "SCRIPT"
in sans-serif caps.

Columbo

My coworker Gabe is awesome. At first glance, he can be confused for someone who is precious and sweet, but if you pay a touch more attention you realize he is a spectacularly excellent asshole.

Things he's recently discovered and done: the joy of flashlight forums, making his own lollipops, purchased a concertina, set up a real traffic light by a coworker's desk to turn red whenever he breaks the build (think bright enough to be seen by drivers thirty feet away at noon on a sunny day).

He recently got into watching Columbo. He composed the following haiku sequence, which he cautions me is just a draft:

Columbo hunts crooks.
They often killed somebody.
He always finds them.

He is so wily.
So cunning, yet bumbling.
Catches crooks off guard.

They think he's their friend.
That way they tell him secrets.
BAM! Used against them.

Columbo's car's old.
It sputters around. So slow!
It does look cool though.

Update:

He mentions his wife.
We never get to see her.
Maybe she's ugly.

His trenchcoat's classic.
Not very warm though, he says.
When does he wash it?

More RBS

JLH Blues -- The presence of absence in the home that your woman completely emptied while you were out, calloused fingers on steel strings, stale tobacco, cheap whiskey, groundhogicide in the parched garden out back.

The Idea of Order at Key West -- Caribbean sea spray, palm trees, decaying dock wood, moist summer air at twilight, distant hint of citronella.

Ambitious (At the Grocery Store)

Dude in a bike helmet and spandex,
heaving a twelve pack of Bud Light
onto the counter.

Grey morning

Friend asleep on the floor,

Tureck playing Bach partitas.

I'm on my fifth brewing of tea.