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enjoy this writing from Brian Looney in the free 6" x 9" 2017 PDF file chapbook: New Creations Out in Public (click on the front cover image or the title text to download the free PDF file)				You can also order this as a 2017 6" x 9" perfect-bound ISBN# book! Click on the book cover or this title to get New Creations Out in Public as a paperback book at any time!

False Enthusiasm

Brian Looney

Take a turn around the park, and you may see the relevant lines. The streaks and dots you would like to recreate, if only time and ability would serve the purpose. Pan your vision right and be arrested by the curve of a twig, the tussled grass, the depth of a shrub: to be capable of all when all is capable of beauty. Just wait until it gets to the end of the string.

Q: Think you got it all figured out?
A: Only on these days. These days are special. These days I’m convinced the key(the cure) is found, and nothing in the universe is truly wrong. As if the god of art or knowledge—Apollo if you wish—graced me with his clarity; now all is simple and featherlight. But tomorrow, all too often, tomorrow I will have lost the way.
Q: Let’s not peddle in no-man’s land.

Turning circles now, but months from now, progress will be clearly noted. Like a massive river which traverses the continent: veiny runoffs and tributaries denser than the offshoots of a branch, or the branches of a tree. It flows the same direction, more or less, toward the great vast What, scrawling a path across the texturous landscape, and returns unto itself where the land, at last, terminates.

There she is again, with ciggy perched and bathrobe tied. Looks like she’s been dropping off at daycare for a lifetime now, up at the clack of dawn, lost her rhythm in that bathrobe, in the butt of a cig she never quite smokes all the way down. But don’t you talk to me about a noble sacrifice, about development and child-rearing, about the future of the nation. Just answer me this: Where do you get your spirituality?

A: My point is, you know it’s good weed if you have a good orgasm.
Q: Alone, or with another person?
A: Hide the weed, the landlord’s here. Illegal is illegal. My point is, I’m a rock star, doesn’t matter whether you agree. I exist outside of time, and the only cheering I need to hear is my own, because it is the only voice that truly matters.
I hear it sitting at the kitchen table, putting pen to paper.
Q: Blasphemer.
A: Pen is to paper as lightning is to water.
Q: Don’t you maim me with analogy.
A: Don’t you pepper me with pejoratives...where was I?
Q: At the kitchen table.
A: That’s right. Sitting at the kitchen table, putting pen to paper, harmoniously adrift. Disconnect, then rush back. Disconnect, then rush back. We fall into a switchback rhythm. Sounds of heavy breathing. Your Honor, may it please the court, in the interests of justice I must ask, ‘What is the human language but a series of phonetic grunts, evolved over the centuries as a result of need, the need to go from simple to complex on the path of lexical self-expression? That is why I doubt your apparently sincere enthusiasm, your Honor, as good as it is to hear, when your average, less-than-enthusiastic appreciator may be far more moved. I am thus obliged to doubt it, because talk is, talk is _____. All I really need is a nod of the head, and maybe a sacrifice or three, to propitiate my wrath, for us to amicably coexist, may it please your Honor, the officers of the court, the ladies and gentlemen of the jury, the upright citizens in the stands, and the laws of the land.’

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