Pink Heart Black Heart, excerpt – Lewis Gesner – Indonesian chapter .. from million word work in progress book in longhand ..

Excerpt from book in progress, Pink Heat Black Heart – from chapter on Indonesia Lewis Gesner

As the dictates plummet from the ornamented and wired rooftop, the flow of rain and electricity and the bursting chant proclaims the difficulty and precise spiraling of the shell, is here a reasonable guide and as much as the plastic and discharged muck at easy reach there is little especially tragic or heroic the mere null set necessity glosses much the hours and supplies from kitchen to table from meal to anticipated digestion.

The log went rolling through it which is the eon, and therein gathered jelly sand and coral on its skin, the penultimate of natural grace and majesty to be shielded by what you endure.

Have it more and never a particular time and quell waiting on air signals and dissonance.

If all more brick and terracotta and the steel gate with a useless latch greets the wanderer beside the speckles of rain as the array, make note quantity, step or increment looped, graph and chart evasion.

Sandal squashed, wear, striped bucket, puddle danglers unspecified touch cataloged color pared.

Primed to worry packed and packaged, hot stilt with its fiber tip, hesitates despite the skill approaching cobblestone and pit holes challenge function, auctioned moments to the generic placement of destination store or mosque, halted.

Itch on the stinger’s penetration practice chord is practical model, sided and accompanied, leading and to push away and more complexify that each announces or wans the direction of its spin.

Calcified nettles climate to survive rampant, to specify.

Walls of nuts and dry husk twice patient to the fore a calm blink suffice to accommodate associated emotion glitch.

Bunched in gobs voluptuous cold blossoms spent.

The striving for compact cold with flawless ending on melt street, wavers faintly a hawker.

And an early clamp of sap, the giant ferns dripping during burn off half a face equated to the malingering beast, brown as raisins and after constipation can be breathed in with the will, the fiber clutching to secure implant status to embrace overt and the premise lux wanting for a place to crease at the middle, in the morning lurking, foraging beasts.

Liken it to a row of depress able shoes on a board, a brunt is waiting.

Bought and sold for plugs inspired officers trim cut, tied smart blank stage mask signified neutral authority or emotionless punishment, slow lurk cane hats and drag the plow knee deep, foster, swim as water flooded gilled.

Coarse and dragged over limits to the coding barriers of fat, the body of the heat sink stirred to vet and giantism in a lush regard, musical tones, half-watts and a white burst makes for the plantation tires lace stuck to it prone cranial bumps inspired expressed at scurry dates, laps formal shanks currently attentive cans packed tightly, clean breeze tangle dripping oil organ flux creep forth from trust floppy.

Drift under confidence, spores purr, husk hooks expelled into temperate time and light a long part divided by have things in threes and spider belts around the goon and slamming of door and flooding bogs the roosters rose with us the strokes of matters in weedy night existent line adjusted plies better the trunk is fatally releasing and detail and cost is mottled and now the slice is a sandwich overseen sharpening – strange belching, quiet mire otherwise dreams of augmentation in clock mechanisms with slug trails you can sand wash and purify both a salute by pepper basket the essence is the most prepared part scripting of the girdled life all and only personal point of view expressed with exaggeration frosty range and skins it must be an icebox and slasher flick on VHS paddling toward at the fish farm.

Invent “spaddle” to describe one slight ancient the other robust and pregnant reach of score shaped plastic jib, helmets and dust crane roads convivial dredge “slatter” pups feast corpse ruts there patter to secure a sufficiently dense date that not bleeds through nor tears, tile, tile and crumbles, tile moss and giant fern paled cheeked too fancy parts inglorious offers equal rolling uneven wheels trunks mingle matter coagulated to pin heads fear toppled ages gods not requiring much new grinding simplex, blades are broader, breeches more penetrating.

Protective crust against surge, pearl meets ebony black forest spill set in cataloged arrays with stepper motor from crude to cut in increments the extent of pot filled dirt fiddles at the loosest establishes as a stapled multi-purpose mat holes of stations until completion, two modes in breakout busted sight rhetorical wards knuckled, spread across mass composed.

A field of stake tried pungent spore oppressed, hopeful stippling heavy from permanent steeping wide set, pagination to consider, and compression, and shrinkage, extremes acted out fails the vision test so cannot curate, much less conspire sputters a word cramps a variant, strongly fudged urged but there’s a dumping sieve sure to map, normal oscillation sucked for the bead of control pearls bud, mouths change rings as much as we touch for para the bleat and a chirp on a crank fertilization in step if you can fashion mere poles with emerald hook bristle terror silence overlays hidden gross anticipate eruption and await the ash there is a pallid hot snap outwardly adroit and prurient, sitting where the window casts wooden bars but you can saw, shutters, but a level split to pieces mortal wrestle plucked from four graves to greatness a stately worm fattening and dividing or a voice gone bad.

Tomb to temple prayer to rap prongs resonate alert abrupt appeal and shavings in fraction form over jealous love resounding penetrator sprig flavored obstruction principle circled the camp and violators were towed renounce and watch the spiral out reward and chambering slack grow taut.

We had crop cakes after storms and the burn off utter mow and thistle moist shift wave collaborative whittle slow class ruts over woods eliminated holes throughout by fermentation gas pockets, sour bulge.

The banister is gummy as the stickers have all peeled apart the years provide though for some image heightened grip opened up on food receptors instantly vagrant congratulations, beef spread, clam snapping shut insults worlds receiving notes from space, even in far reaches descendent muffle suspended mid-drift supervisor of moons and metal sparkles bamboo cluster crimping exercises, diverting the course exercises and degrees of discursive investigation and riddle evasive to discomfort.

Chaste roosters and abundant disk advancing into horns abundant and sumptuous on the slate pay reversal prime lawn urges mortals flushing through a grape stem incontinent fixture it’s good to see the common display well, it seems so unlikely a still night reaching inward look for spots most worn from ogling.

Cave samples, the square within the pattern on each the vegetable within the fruit then in fear to scurry with an incisor and a pastry fish (such as veneer) have to lose the principle to gain the satellite last of grunts founds a father, and a supplemental trill over pattern, one cool breeze over humid steam release body.

Insert, rust spending edible whiteness orange slur nibble elemental stroke everyone provokes as an animal vast and traveled over grump stokes stainless steel trains mass comes mass spending smoke author speaks preservation dip in the early proportions throbbing and intransitive spider button has the native touch in proposed escort salt block latent gall over-established read, results snotty congestion a waxy free phoneme many carp gather residentially described as a capstone to efficiency and answered ringers and alarms with noncommittal greetings.

While the bleeding pen it’s not a blur but it is discreet something arrives in a vermillion sling sobbing the chicken in skinny on the bone but is from their own farm raised on tightened cereal it can’t again the field swell block the bumper of the native foreigner fossilized nostril paint, stay in the calm pared off the bowel forms the extend in the dextrose limb capable to precise deposit the strains are still and chrome carried in silks pockets para-lingually convivial in the form of station masters cement room comforts radiant meter reading, lilting voice in any language according to the population this house makes mushrooms but no steeples to be found here other were the glyphs of perpetration cans for loading sparks of wait-out nascent grey puddles fresh to spire into wealthy spectrums whirls a pool like got off early fair smacked puds the pinky nail the want for pure product stencil and spurts in drums slap a vegetable cork from clouds teamed pill compliment phony drips on a screen blackout of controlled some expert knowledge but pray to the stone unseated observers disappear lace breaker wings for waves duplication in forwarding sleep to claps of sound trills evaporation sanction pain sap, earthly stamen krill forming from infection instruction forming opinion from diuretic evacuation a question of reason poor labeled scraps the strike of glowing the mind at eleven percent.

The plugs are here to appear to compel a style of frills and grape sized dropping they don’t just signal, they entertain.

Feeds the mechanism to burp bores its way, artist production, the rugs have matted excavated banquet a clause and burst of stipple we call the various kinds of love the projects of the worm butts it’s redundant language something in the frost they call perma-roast the truck unto bait sophisticate, the grass repellant.

Cognate mire, honesty pluck, the chickens come countrified drizzle in shack of auxiliary hours, powdered blue the sheath anagram was a metal bracket how others can conclude and mysterious, oversized leaves piercing instruments of the early morning insects and approaching the lance baton special conditions deal, spelled out the names of three auditors (of dust) comprehending signs and literalisms as your own turn of fate up comes diverse accounts joining and parsing of the same the mourning shad equations of the least prepared for school emergent and a dream clad flavored to tempt tugs the cross of lace the initiates were beak martyrs, squid, fowl, secular pecks, drain monitors, eat the label first, the correction comes soon lamp lit blurred estate extravagant pine the cheating was a failure at warning, the pounce was a dyspeptic chill spelled with lice into spaces thousands of expressionless buried as gels in a cave it’s equal, to entanglement from one’s mass.

Self-conscious use of miniature with the exposure of one brain enjoyed a lifetime of candy old sarcastic gateways as a plow down numbered streets, a salvo of beets from every hole comprised, to the ear, the cough seemed tonally perfect for each one there, there was a spirit presence on each tong of the rake mystery of the peeing cadaver ran a lot along a dilated tape canal molted and in interesting tides, labels naps a hibernation, the waters also are our irrigation, no to the interest and loss of boats unmoored which spends on cities.

Manure piles left steeping, picking and checking, it can’t move, grunge thunk periodic notching, critical nutting, colossal fly saucers are real and other deviant dreams, else, nudging, slap of shoes, the blood cracked coat of defense figuring which of design are extreme dwelling the compression created as the shape flops from one face to another over a changing terrain no one expected what emerged from the tread of the tire, in the face of the supplier, red foil genius, conventional measure to quietly deferred to the bland mucilage that compiles into bulk mind and thought have nowhere to go the aggression aligned with the release of the dirty word to air.

Advanced to the degree of emptiness, the creatures of the moat are more for fashion of the day then service you can feel caution as an emotion rather than fear or addition and subtraction as a sensation harsh in the throat force one like, you pay to give up yourself the punch is what erupts from the counter sleeve the mouth being a significant part of the emitter base and concerning the haste of utterance, three miles buildup before it is slung represents a standard and that includes the walk down green footpaths past the fish farm and ivy lattice there is more chattering than bottling the improvisation begun at the choking of the song you can see a similar interior roof construction across the southeast the primate is on the stoop but you’ve never met collectively there is a moldy whole uprooted.

Progress is the rump of a beast features being determined by the field and mode, whatever you can claim through leering housing and management gardens, binding flows in many directions, likes and ifs and swellings never seen before, calm, imagination undoing or a chamber of fifths in a waltz you can feel the ages in the unearthed script or the dry skin my own image cannot be tailored salty slack, loose chickens feeding in a ash pie, foot traffic and wheel, and the stair upholstery trips you have weed sorted accidental plucks the detonator stem retreat in study, faint duty.

After the first insect wave others follow assembly of surgeries and for effect, the baked the hair, likens to the grinding voices of a mentor of which three of his mouths are occupied by whistles recipient of a backward stamp too familiar to a place forming rites and urges to scratch raw, taking deliveries all day twirling takes room to stumble and a motor that doesn’t need to be pressed to its limit.

The impulse to document, the virtue to stimulate without promise of reward, such is the unturned stone and the salamander grail in the innocent eye, the individual slices of the outer boundary wall may be praised for its desire to realize a community strength which thus comprises the wall thrust supply that seems endless for one generation.

Hyphenated words reform in combinations to make compete sentiment or to heighten into lux range superfluity winding with chalk sense depends on you for help in not expiring always better sidestepped flocks while shame compounds, make a valley and a city with arrogance, the staple or the pin mediate, confer attempts in chord form, negate the angle by division at corners, inward or away in short digress to epitomize.

Shuck your culture stamp at the door- key term -avoid angles divided as points occur common fats and fasts evolve over the sea stew or proclaim a midst to so understand extents in any of the directions as measured by magnetic instruments, or, to pardon before slobbering plush decay emergent flower traces degenerative feed you see the body lacks movement.

Lumpy falling grasping thumbs strange laugh after eating beef or just three skins super and graded as enough without comment to quality guts wrenching stones to worship, guts wrenching wood piles how stitched sacks balance the clown as it straddles the sides of the tank, models of mental structure the bowls though appearing rigid are in fact squeezed plum like in an addition space you don’t call weird what you try to normalize expressing confidence to earn fair basket rinse of strength flushes loose and sways with torque bars a grunting place to fart in or for bones sit until slack jaw drops entirety to ground level and exsanguinate, complete flaming, glowing, engulfing, orbiting panels on a plane compete as barrier for the spectrum of constitution in its divides the sounds of rumbling stone approaches and the engines quake their tones in loneliness.

Slabs and a dictionary of given names and you can eat the rest instability is just accumulation at a clot assemble at a grey composition ascribe the outline, as distorted by a lens regard under-skirted thunder as a sign of approval of a mission but I not at all firm on the nature of phenomenon but also gloat about the way it pours out appropriating comfort from believers in a plan supported by a truss display of nature as old injuries.

Embedded is a glimpse of the apparatus that does the dicing and cubing how you tumbled on the way to the bath.

Foul of the consumer stumbling past on natty, roped up dove-tail cobbled sticks, expectations are a gloss of green, extracted through the silver door conform produces gel to cream applies similarly to mood enhancement as in cheering or confounding explorers think their colors on a scale, some as pouty liars. 

Or simply, wearing shoes and cadence plus quick conclusion your hands will automatically search for a grip, separately and equally broken on return anything even the splintered edge of an imperfect plank can be your wipe so used, to travel rough for some it’s a frame for disgust our agency reports feldspar deposits and earth removal whose children climb beams and fall from trees imagine it as us just running through a pipe, something historical to catalog the just for a list of dreams or a mire be stationed porridge without capacity to parse.

Continue with the use of acronyms, heat, and oil resin or a lot of able and trained digits, note the eyes scan the room, howl and stirrup outburst case repair sub shower chopped the delivery bobbled appointment the gravity of ruts effectively attracts stages to an outer sling, a sheering tool a pin for bait, a hook to gaff a wheel on a ring to ramble on desiccated warehouse floors the portrait of a white cape the nailed together and hewn surroundings request a broad dramatization to communicate symbolically sliding outcry such tools for basic swarming are known the bell in the mine for deceitful, the heat is from the areas of the mouth that are difficult to access to find your favorite spot on, the leeches plan their escapades this is life to me, before oppressive heat, before dawn an occasion of lucidity confirms, beginner generation of disguised meat wrapped anvil in the cured skins three to an age maiden impression olden bug eyes while fish collapse twinkle native shins and choice to the infantile. 

Shingle, tile, clay, muddle, lint spaced on the jacket cilia encased proposed to the stupor mart, sells appraisal bands, phase of vegetable shells with wiggling toes in horror compensation distinguished in the unity of one’s ugly slots, the main gut of the retardant features to tire addressed reentry of the crowded strangers, why should one not conceal.

Scent of jungle giant fern and plastic burning in a heap indiscriminate to the wind simple local folk-in-measure though the western in the moment mantra expresses unnecessary worries of a bourgeois, anemic, hair dyed stencil specimen, an elsewhere truth is to imagine any navigation toward an unseen port, smell of curing returns after a brief retreat interplay between ceiling fan and kitchen blade stops upon the ground is proud of cultivated feet that wide and long seem you more.

Starkly stated uniforms and suits direct on us their holy scrutiny for some dyspeptic variant spaced between prayers warming toward gloom and brown leaves new to relax in a vacuum, is with mention super cups to scoop and ladle a stiff wooden lattice roof.

Waverly lines offer obscurity by passageway and force of filling and interpretation something that can be delicately altered but not broken hunger a selection of striking sounds from sharp crack to thuds to moist kisses in an escalating range toward a weight that forces something to suddenly give way, you may be left to repeat a series of pitches, or protect yourself with a disconcerting laugh else a cleaver, a locking matter.

An irreversible approach to bridges, heading downward on a path, and ultimatums to crossing the principle of funneling master fair mug a swamp and juice weird at a physical dimension unsupervised comes the rain squash corn and porch pigeons meet unlikely stone and cement assembly wrinkles vast and chasms on the planetary scale pictured otherwise hum too many engines we reduced by one some seductions fateful competently slippery as they finish swarms the words as the blather and the blubber of outlines. 

Ache and foment rough mutton chewed apart mounds current time has made for sitting the waxy appropriate suitable commission trying screech of brake on incline a noggin in three folds at the aquarium all or nothing to the lapdog soldier and degraded staff vermilion convolute hoards commemorated. 

Spots not stain placards of concern and status mechanical beads express the feelings when assorted portable versions you work toward wider fame as if gentlemen’s suits are hammered on with rug tacks we used the salt battery which was the charge of our caste as it strummed invasive thrusting bloody bushes powers of the loudest themes receiver outposts equipped ear horns with a vaporizer mount the cost of folding chairs with a cushioned option amid our cement and tile, inundated generic matter sap extremes of waste with your plastic bonfire remedial surety catching splinters in the dark sufficient drying to the redeemer initiate. 

Bundled carriages signs, the acculturation changed their clock again asks for psychological sidestep into the break time two to five minute cancers pink heart black heart barter for longer walks to the grave you could poo poo there compiled of ancient fork laxatives.

On the eve of crumples, the shins of dirt with multi facet listen enters into staged works of hollows you’ve got the sweat from sea sand in your walls out of self when eating cement medicine lamp light octave esoterica plug the hole marker able to mucus soggy cloth and lamentation crowning faces layered in cake offers can’t be listed, blue dashes someone urinating in a sink as a symbol of dominance ice rays across country loads from the barn that genius matters present in the filler ogle mire by decree flash buttons carry everything bogged motion brown count.

Shamed actions working factory a lot of salad brail razor onto thumbs a saddle for the steps a poem for acts of failure conventional rationale.

Transubstantiation in the Subtropics by Lewis Gesner

The Toothless Lady, or, The BBQ Witch

She walked across parking lots and tar driveways with her feet pointing outward. In a great feat of the imagination, one could speculate she had been a ballerina once, but the likelihood was she suffered from some form of hip displacement that gave her this measured, crab-like walk. Her clothes hung from her frame, and seemed to swing and sway backward and forward almost magically in a simulation of a body endowed with mass and subject to the airborne wind. On the top of her head were large white curls the likes you would see on painted iron fenced gates, and not protruding from someone’s scalp. As she made her way, a small cloud followed her closely from behind, a remnant of her drying skin she found more convenient to flake away than to shed at once. Her eyes were dark and nondescript, the kind of thing that she would plan that way. In such a village, she could walk along. She didn’t attract company, and indeed, many hid inside away from her as she passed by their habitats. One might imagine these features would be enough for one person to suffer or wield, but there was one more aspect that was incontrovertibly more impressive. And that was her mouth. 

    Some existent things are said to not be describable by human means; heaven, hell, dying -.This mouth, this orifice, this pucker from the rue of defective, corrupted creation stood alone at the pinnacle of the undefined. A flock of one thousand in lab coats with all of the instruments of examination could not draw a single conclusion. Such is the village oddity. Some referred to her as the toothless lady. That described her mouth in the most superficial, but perhaps bearable way. She had no teeth, that was true. I will attempt a vain characterization. Where teeth might have been, there were gaps and craters that seemed filled with the darkest black, and of a size that meant her teeth would have barely fit in her head. If one were to venture close to this horrible hole, one might imagine some creeping essence housed in these caves, catch the smell from their own lurid mouths, or glimpse the blinking of a lone and oozing eye at the parapet defenses of some unearthly chthonian dwelling worm. The grounds surrounding these pits were anemic and washed out as to offend pink, and attested to an overall ancientness and erosion. Old indeed, yet God had clearly not taken her for a myriad of reasons, stemming from the unpleasantness of her nearness. The outer rim of the mouth fell into the void like from a powerful suction that suggested she would be the epicenter of our earth’s final implosion at the end of time. 

    What’s more, she wandered here and there on a regular circuit each day. She seemed to search for cats to curse and children to frighten.  Passersby were subject to comment on their dress weight or other appearance that might not be in their hands. After these walks, she’d go back to her house, a cement block building with no windows which may have been used for a supply shed during the Japanese occupation. People pictured her solitary life behind those thick cold walls. A few felt sorry for her. Most thought she was a witch. That also made her feared. On the many occasions for BBQ, such as on national days and Chinese New Year, and in this village, more frequently, the toothless lady would become sociable, though not talkative. She would travel around the village, following her nose for BBQ until she found its source. The revelers would fall silent at her sight. Without hesitating, should go straight to the grill and take a rib, gobbling it down quickly and eating another, and another, the bloody juice running down her chin, and you could almost hear her bony jaws gnashing together, sans teeth. When she had eaten all of the ribs on the grill, she would wander away, on to the next BBQ. This was the way it was, year after year. If a cousin or uncle from another village asked about this horrible presence at everyone’s BBQ who seemed to invite herself and take with impunity, they were quickly shushed. It hadn’t always been like this, they were told. Once, it had been much worse. And, if they were insistent, they were told the story. 

    Maybe it was a generations ago, maybe more. None could really provide facts, but there was no lack of details. The toothless lady seemed ageless, and by all accounts, had always been old. Parents, grandparents, and great grandparents told of growing up with her cursing them. And, it was rumored that the Japanese soldiers gave her a wide berth, which was not their usual way with villagers. Most people were poor back then. It’s why of cuisine of today is so varied. No food matter of plant or animal was every wasted. The blood of pigs or chickens was gathered up and rice was soaked in it for cakes. Offal of every kind of animal was commonly eaten. Brains went in soup. Snakes and frogs went into the stew pot. With such efficient consumption of all food stuffs, it was remarkable that stray cats still abound, in most areas, with the exception of one, and that would be the vicinity around the toothless lady’s abode. It was also on some occasion that one might chance to see a scattering of little ribs around this locale along paths and roadside. It was even rumored that one year, villagers had expended all of their earnings to buy a small whole pig, to offer to their local guardian god as blot for his favor. And an unthinkable thing had happened. As the pig lay splayed in the protective shelter of the temple, someone took it. Robbing god! All eyes were on the toothless lady, it was said. Yet she walked the streets unconcerned, with a callous smile. What ill luck she would bring this village, no one could imagine. 

    So it began. At first, there were small packages outside of her doorstep, of food that some could spare, and other gifts, such as little carved statues, or bits of cloth. But it became clear what the toothless lady cared for, as villagers found their offerings dumped in local’s fishponds and thrown over stone walls. The only thing that the toothless lady kept were gifts of BBQ, specifically, ribs. As the tributes became more satisfying for her, it was observed that the weather grew milder, earning opportunities increased among villagers, and wealth began to build. Through this connection, she became more broadly known as the BBQ witch. Her status had been raised to a local, living god. Yet this is not the end of the story. With surging confidence and pride, it only took a generation for the village to feel its prosperity was from its own excellence and efforts, and that the beliefs of the past were a hindrance of their parents. The BBQ witch began to return to her oddball status as the village hermit and wanderer, and the gifts lain at her door to appease became less, and then ceased. Lessons in the realm of supernatural influence are hard earned. There was then a price to be paid. A drought came, food became more scares, and farms failed. And then there was a bad typhoon season, in which there was flooding, widespread property damage, and loss of life. Life returned to struggling, and people wondered what they had done wrong. While some attributed these events to chance and luck, there was one more blight that no one could deny was an unnatural curse on their village. It was thought to have begun during a typhoon. A young family had battened down their house as the wind and rain beat hard against door and window in the night. A young boy in his bed cried out. He said the howling storm outside of his window was calling his name in a horrible cackling voice. Inconsolable, his parents let him sleep between them that night. And in the morning, he was gone. 

    With no sign of forced entry, it could only be assumed the boy had left the house on his own. Searches followed, to no avail. Rumors spread, the parents told of how the boy heard a voice calling him the night he disappeared. After a week, a lone thin bone was paraded about the town by a black dog that was never seen again. Other disappearances followed. A child walking to school, a mere kilometer stroll, never arrived. Twins riding their bicycles together down a lane never emerge from a wooded grove. And all this while, it seemed, black smoke seeped in little puffs from beneath the BBQ witch’s front door. With sadness and surrender, the village pooled their money and roasted an oversized pig, leaving it at the BBQ witch’s door. No one saw it taken in, but it seemed to immediately vanish. Within days, the luck of the village returned. Crops seemed to leap in size overnight, and businesses had landfalls. The new-found wealth brought celebration and feasting. Traditional BBQs of national days and Chinese New Year increased to several times a week. Outdoor cooking on a grill, ribs of pig and cow were sumptuously consumed, and the BBQ witch made her rounds, inviting herself to every house patio and sidewalk with a grill and ribs. Though not greeted, she was tolerated as everyone knew the cost of shunning her. The black smoke filled the air, and the village became famously known as Black Sky Township.

    Today, our restless and troublesome children squirm themselves to quiet sleep at night under the threat of being wisked away by the hungry BBQ witch who hears the sounds of noisy children or those tardy for their beds at night. “Beware” they are warned, “or the BBQ witch will hear you, and come to steal you away. She’ll BBQ your ribs and spit out your bones in the street!”

The Mosquito Queen

A museum display, corded off with a yellow velveteen sash in a corner, poorly lit, as if a janitor’s tool closet rather than a presentation : a fifty gallon steel drum, dented on one side and painted a turquoise blue, with streaks and gashes of orange rust showing through, a cement cast cauldron that might accommodate goldfish in a back yard garden, some varied colored plastic buckets of different sizes, some cracked down their sides, a brick façade wall painted over grey, accentuating the dimness of the room’s iridescent illumination, with a high rectangular window lit through from the other side to simulate sunlight the entire scene being damp and containers filled to their brims and leaking with water, churning with brown and white speckled mosquito larva constituting a farming of them – is what you can expect to see on entering the Old House, as it had been known before, prior to historicizing the objects and events of its exhibition. Now, it was The Museum of the Mosquito Queen. As before, they tried to retain its setting and surroundings. It still perched slightly on a hill of a long and broad furrowed field at the outskirts of town. 

    Another room you’ll find is full of mature females, and a complicated gulfing of air from circulatory vents assures that they always give the impression of swarming in massive, purposeful blankets as black as the darkest storm cloud, and numbering in the millions of individuals. You risk a death from anemia or any number of viral contractions from entering in here, so the culture monger must sign multiple releases and waivers. Be warned. Now you know. 

    Outside the door and on the grounds, visitors are accompanied by a simulation of her voice, intoning, “I am the Mosquito Queen and you do what I say,” affected with various echoes and cheap movie effects, rings in cheap crackling electric spark of broken speakers across the dilapidated grasslands and meadows of the dilapidated shire. It was thought she suffered from emphysema, so, the curator made the recorded voice rough and phlegmatic. For something at the level of the fairground thrill, it was effectively chilling, and, much what it must have been like to be oppressed by her presence in those darker times. These managed terrors seemed all too authentic, and perhaps so much, that it might be worried they would conjure her dreaded spirit once again, like the  grotto where you row a canoe out into a swamp to relive the primitive horrors of early era dwellers, and find the allegators are all too real, or the cat ghost beneath the thick blanket at night during a storm, impossible to ignore, “meow, meow, meow.” 

    If anymore was from these environs or had roots here they would surely know of the Mosquito plague famed simply as Sour Gash. It takes little imagination to deduce why this name was chosen as its moniker. Once bitten by an infected mosquito, the victim would find their flesh opening up randomly in long broad wounds that would not bleed, but rather become opalescent in color and reek out a smell so bad that you could almost see its thick fumes. Hysterical madness and death followed, and not soon enough. To suffer this was inhuman. And who or what brought such horror to the land? It was that queen! 

    In nature, rarified matters form variously as forces and pressures act on them, be they mineral or vegetable. Coal forms into diamond, stalagmites form from eons of dripping, and oil distills from plant-life under pressure and long decay. Witches and gods may be more of the same, their natures exaggerated and refined in the forge of the deep earth, sky, or ocean. The teemings of the beasts and worldly pests, and itching of pleasure and discomfort serve to complement in traits that differentiate the witch or god from granite, fossil, oils or precious gems. They are imbued with a purposefulness and motive that animates them, as another force does living things. The witch or the god is dead, but, they seem not so. And that is what makes them the most frightening, this mocking disguise. 

    Whenever in a crowd, someone has ordered you. It may be silent, spoken, a command or something felt, but you were influenced as were the others to have gathered there. So witches have instructed their familiars under their control, as gods have driven followers toward the edge of cliffs. The Mosquito Queen was fashioned from the rarities of earth, as I have just described. And as such, took no nourishment as living bodies might but rather sucked a kind of feeling that was in her power to compel. The prick of pain at being stung by the mosquito stinger, amplified a million fold was what she longed for in her lifeless depravity. Infliction! And in her power, she could drive the million stinger in a swarming black fog engulfing victims in the horrible shroud of bloodsucking and viral infusions. 

     In the cold of winter, all her pets were harbored in old wartime cement pillboxes and underground in caves of mountain troops’ retreats from detection.  She would check them daily and they would greet her with a buzzy good morning as their hunger grew. Their lifecycles were suspended in her care, a spell she cast commuted their sentence of short life, and their numbers accumulated geometrically by the day. And then, when temperatures warmed, and stagnant water sat, the black clouds were released into the open spaces of the world! A farmer is engulfed as he shouldered his basket of corn, stings drained him as he folded deflated in a pile of arid parts. You are there. One mosquito is enjoined to raid a marketplace, and finds a victim leaning over bread. One sting is all it takes. It drinks the blood, and in exchange, it lets the virus slip into the host. It isn’t long, before the victim leaves the store, the body ripples into gasping purple lipped vents, the Sour Gash has struck! Afar, evil joy churns and overflows. The Mosquito Queen basks. 

    The beauty of these island havens never pales, like the old growth of the northern hemisphere, yet some other lurking makes bucolic environs insidious and amassing in dangers. You’ve seen it all before! Cute faced with a toxic quill, flights of color likened to a dabbling artist with their paints but touch of the skin that sends admirers wreathing in spasms of pain. It is so with all of earth, with its menagerie of deadlys.

The Ghost Cat  

    Everywhere a cat can squeeze its body through a crack can be their haunt. Are we then surrounded by their spirits? Maybe, and maybe some, more than others, hold a magic key for transporting from world to world. Something earned or learned of in their life. Some cats are special. 

    I the author have some personal memories of cats.

    A blanket is a second cover of darkness in the night. Any streetlight or the lamps of passing cars that filter through a window become doubly barred by a blanket pulled up over heads. The double darkness makes the lock that fits the special ghost cat’s magic key. Mystery solved! The cat comes to the bed of children, hiding from the things that move in the night. ‘Meow.” Almost silent, an echo as if through a long corridor. Approaches through an empty vacuumed expanse. “Meow.” More emphatic, plaintive, and chilling by the addition of a wobble in its pitch, perhaps the cat has intention of being frightening. “We should give it ghost cat food,” a voice reasons, from one of three disembodied speakers engulfed within the blanket, perhaps this is a parent. (sounds of opening an imaginary can, the tinkle of a little spoon, the sound of wet imaginary cat food landing in a bowl) (cat licks, tongue sounds, maybe a purr while eating) Suddenly it is completely silent again. “The cat went away!” yes, it had. Blanket thrown off, laughter. When the ghost cat comes, you must feed it ghost cat food. Then it will go away until the next night. Cats come and go. The average lifespan of a stray cat is two years. In Bandung in Indonesia, staying overnight in a house painted black inside and out, only rivaled by the former Church of Satan in Amsterdam, which had been transformed into a strip club called Bananas, cats began to howl at midnight. From a third-floor window that looked down over most rooftops, I could see scores of cats leaping from roof to roof, caterwauling in the heat, fighting, mating in droves on the terracotta. They tired by three, and by four, the call to worship began from loudspeakers mounted on the spires of mosques. In Taiwan is a village for old soldiers who have now all passed away, which has been taken over by cats. Some kindly types consider it a holy place, and come daily to feed the ever growing community of felines. 

    While studying music composition in college, it was recommended that I buy a pet to help me stay at home at night, to help further my studies by making me a homebody. It was a reasonable idea, and I purchased a white mouse. After some initial introductions of forms and concepts, the composition students were finally required to compose a piece of music for a small orchestra, to be performed in class. I had a few days to complete the assignment, but by the night before, I was still drawing a blank. I looked at the music paper on my table, and then I looked at my mouse. And then I had an idea. I found a bottle of India ink and poured some into a saucer. Then I took my mouse out of his cage, wet his feet in the ink, and let him run around on my tabletop covered with music paper. After a little jaunt, I cleaned off his feet and put him back in his cage.  The ink spots he created were unusual but surprisingly patterned, and easy to transcribe, and arrange for eight instruments. What I thought would be an all-nighter turned out to be an early night in. The composition went over very well in class. The performance left students and musicians initially silent. And then came a very deep discussion of the content, and the form. I took all of the credit. A work of some genius the teacher said. Subsequent compositions got only better as I learned how to collaborate with my partner. And I was being heralded as the next new thing. Being a young man, I still visited my family on national days. This time, I traveled with my new friend the mouse. Over dinner, my family found my new partnership amusing. Their crazy son and brother, making good at school with his foolish ways! At some time during the activities that day, the family cat managed to sneak its way into the room unnoticed, slip open the door to the mouse cage and remove the mouse. When I saw he was missing, I knew exactly what had happened. My mind flashed to ten years before, to my first pet ever. It was a pretty blue parrot, which we kept in a cage hanging from a freestanding pole to the side of the television in the living room. After only a day in our home, the parrot was missing from his cage. How had he escaped, I wondered. No amount of searching turned him up. He was gone. A week later, I was playing in our basement, where I often liked to roll on top of the potatoes in their bins, they felt so comfortable and cool. Underneath the stairs, I came across a single blue feather. So, that was my poor pet’s fate, eaten by the cat. I went there now. Sure enough, a single tiny bone and a spot of blood was all I found of my gifted mouse. I tried to simulate our compositional inventions, but there was no repeating the chemistry we had. In my mind, the family cat had destroyed the future of western music. Long gone now, but does this cat still wander the earth, cursed for his sins? Does he seek out beloved or useful pets to slaughter to satisfy his malignant hungers? Or is it simply a contempt for beauty in response to him own mundane and talentless embodiment? 

    For some months, my wife took up a practice of rescuing cats. That sometimes involved a difficult capture of a stray, or taking in a litter of abandoned kittens. At any given time, we housed twelve or more cats in our rooms. She found homes for many, but some, which arrived in poor condition, died in her care. Perhaps their spirits lingered in this only home they had ever know, or, they sent out a beacon-like signal to the cats that passed and didn’t know their way. This was a safehouse. Our children still play the “ghost cat” game of hiding in bed under a blanket and feeding a ghost cat ghost cat food. But the truth is, it is not uncommon to hear a meow around our game. If we sleep with the window open, it is not surprising to hear them in our stray infested neighborhood. Yet it is possible, and sounds to be, that the spirit of one on occasion enters our rooms and finds its way beneath the blanket to be fed by our innocent though sometimes morbidly obsessed children.

Show At The Midway: “Waking up from a Covid Nightmare into Global Climatic Collapse Nightmare”

Four ARTSPEECH members Petra Dankova, Emma F. Kohoutova, Michael Tyrrell and Milan Kohout participate in this collective show at Midway Gallery in Boston. )

“Waking up from a Covid Nightmare into Global Climatic Collapse Nightmare”
Curated by Milan Kohout.

Midway Studios Gallery15 Channel Ctr St., Boston, MA ,USA
Open from September 15 till November 15, 2021every day from 8Am till 8PM

Michael Tyrrell: “Face the Nation”
Emma F. Kohoutova: “An Issue of Domestication”
Petra Dankova: “Some Things Fall Apart”
Milan Kohout, Petra Dankova: “Yves Klein’s Family Drowning”(Real bodies size imprints on a glass)
Milan Kohout:( three pieces)
“Checking the Blood Pressure of rivers, the Veins of our Collapsing Eco-System”
“Flood of Death”


You are invited to the opening of Heard


Old State House
206 Washington St, Boston

Wednesday, September 1

Special Reception with artist 
James Ellis Coleman begins at 5:30PM

Drinks & light refreshments


Midway Show: “Bedsheet Mitigations”

“Bedsheet Mitigations”

art on discarded bedsheets
painted by
Peter Schumann
(Bread & Puppet Theater’s
founder and artistic director)

Exhibit runs
July-August 2021

Opening Reception July 15th 6pm-8pm

(Patio terrace across from Midway Artist Studio Entrance)

co-hosted by
Midway Gallery

“Dumpster-retrieved bedsheets
contain quantities of secret life,
sweet dreams and nightmares of
anonymous sleepers’ lives in
relation to their history and planet.”
(Peter Schumann, 2021)

Bedsheet Mitigations Video

(Fort Point, Boston, MA 02210) During this covid-era “pause”, the Vermont-based Bread & Puppet Theater was gifted a large pile of king-sized bedsheets, discarded by a hotel. Renowned visual and performing artist Peter Schumann, the political puppet theater’s founder and artistic director, immediately seized upon this as an opportunity. Not only to paint a scene per day, on a dumped clean slate canvas. But also to take this on as a daily exercise, of freely slapping paint around while grappling with all the issues that have made the world a sh*tty mess.

Like hanging out to dry in a mighty stiff wind, Schumann’s “Bedsheet Mitigations” series, a portion of which will be on display in Fort Point’s Midway Gallery, never really sits still for any viewer. His iconic visual approach, no matter if they are part of a performance or let to lay flat, are hardly ever created by Schumann for relaxed observation only.

The selections from Schumann’s “Bedsheet Mitigations” series, specifically chosen for this exhibit at Midway, were first revealed at Bread & Puppet’s “Insurrection – Lamentation — Resurrection Service” performances, held up in VT during their socially distant contact-traced 2020-2021 season. Combined with these “mitigation” images will be several other bedsheet pieces on display at Midway, gleaned from Schumann’s new “Crucifixion” series, which he started generating in earnest this past February-March.

Never one to mince words, Schumann’s mission statement, specifically addressing this exhibit in Fort Point, acknowledges the precarious position that the neighborhood’s dwindling artists’ community faces, in spite of the ironic fact that this particular Boston neighborhood, now dwarfed by pristine condition high-rise glass and steel, had once been declared “historic” in 2009 by the then mayor.

Peter Schumann’s Artist Mission Statement (May 2021):
1) “I am not a professional painter because professional painters either make or hope to make their living from painting. I am a cheap artist which means: if I sell I also want to ridicule the for-sale system of art.”;
2) “Bad bedsheet research. Dumpster-retrieved bedsheets contain quantities of secret life, sweet dreams and nightmares of anonymous sleepers’ lives in relation to their history and planet.”;
3) “Dirty painful reality doesn’t allow these paintings to be abstract and enjoy abstinence from that dirt and pain. This is sloganeering art, propaganda against the lousy capitalist system that feeds and tortures us.”

Basic listings info:
Peter Schumann’s “Bedsheet Mitigations” : paintings on discarded bedsheets, created by the founder of Bread & Puppet Theater. Exhibit runs July 1 through August 31. Gallery hours: open daily, 8:00 am-8:00 pm. Free and open to all, with a selection of Bread & Puppet’s celebrated “cheap art” posters available for sale on-site. Co-hosted by Midway Gallery and ARTSPEECH. Midway Gallery, 15 Channel Center St., Boston, MA 02210. Contact information:, 857-250-1356; information and updates available at and

Further background information:

Peter Schumann and the Bread & Puppet Theater:
Peter Schumann was born in 1934 in Silesia. He was a sculptor and dancer in Germany before moving to the United States in 1961. The Bread & Puppet Theater, a politically active puppet theater, was founded by Schumann in New York City in 1963. Bread & Puppet’s name is derived from the theater’s practice of sharing its sourdough rye with the audience, and from its central principle that art is as basic as bread. Bread & Puppet moved to Vermont in 1970, eventually settling in the Northeast Kingdom town of Glover in 1974, where the company, under Schumann’s artistic leadership, continues to perform outdoor circuses and pageants all summer long. Many of these shows then tour throughout the U.S. and beyond after their summer season.

Midway Gallery (“Bedsheet Mitigations” co-host):
The Midway Gallery is located on the first floor of the Midway Artist Studios, an 89 unit building comprised of live-work artist studios, located in the Fort Point section of Boston. Established in 2005 as Boston’s largest affordable live-work artist building, Midway continues to be a place for artists to live and work affordably, in spite of the real estate boom, which has swept through Fort Point, displacing hundreds of working artists. In 2014, the resident artists organized to purchase the building, making it a permanent rental and artist controlled building, run by a board of directors, elected in part by the artist residents themselves. Midway Artist Studios is the only remaining artist rental building in Fort Point. The Midway Gallery’s current co-chair and co-curator is visual and performance artist Milan Kohout, the Midway’s first resident artist, who continues to live and work in the building.

ARTSPEECH (“Bedsheet Mitigations” co-host):
ARTSPEECH, an artists’ collective dedicated to promoting freedom of artistic speech, was formed in June 2020 specifically in response to the strong differences of opinion surrounding the rights of freedom of expression within the art world. The founding and current members of ARTSPEECH can be found at The backstory that prompted its founding can be found at

Milan Kohout


A narrative meditation about the influence of the boomer generation on our world.

Written by: Sal Adim

Audio & Video by: Dan Jackson

Music by: Meavy Boy

How about if we unite against the real cause of racism, discrimination, and exploitation? Milan