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Marek Wojciech Lugowski
Marek Lugowski
Photo By: B. Callaghan

Location: Chicago, IL
Date of Birth: 2/15/59
Published in:

--paper anthologies:

xconnect: writers of the information age III
xconnect: writers of the information age II (on the cover)
xconnect: writers of the information age I (on the cover)

Selamat jalan, mate, A Small Garlic Press, Chicago: 1996
Utah Poems, A Small Garlic Press, Chicago and Kennewick: 1995
Comments: Co-edits Agnieszka's Dowry with Katrina Grace Craig, and poses as a contributing editor to CrossConnect


first of all,
the mentally ill were too busy to write
the what did the mentally ill do on the first day out
on the first day

the mentally ill are mentally ill by the laws of america
and no other law

the mentally ill say to america, at least this well-worn
corner of it all, o amber waves of pigshit:

shove it up your ass. your law stinks like your farms
do. you don't know what you're missing. you don't
know what you got. until it's gone.

dear governor and legislature of illinois -- how many
mentally ill before these mentally ill have disturbed
the peace and menaced the public running around
evanston, waving their biathlon firearms? none.

okay, that out of the way:

today the mentally ill woke up after 3 hours of sleep
thought about masturbating but got distracted.
honest to god and to the absence of god. it may well
have been the ringing of the church bells if not on
broadway and catalpa then deep back east. or sumthin.

eventually, the mentally ill made good on a threat
to parental unit anxiety and went about fixing its
dead battery car: went out and bought a two-wheel
grocery cart. used bicycle tools from hi skool (metric)
(10 mm and 13mm) to undo the battery cables. burnt
itself ever slightly on the shell battery (3 years old)
maintenance free battery that was dead and leaking from
one of its vents (when wrapping it for transport in
grocery bags). got it over to a nearby auto parts
store. bought a battery with the assistance of
a real nice man. got windshield wipers, new, not
refills. got license plate lights -- clear, green
and red (port and starboard, but which is which).

then the mentally ill installed the battery, started
the car. then the mentally ill installed the
port and the starboard lights and felt extra naughty.
and then the mentally ill fought a pitched battle
with the driver's side wiper and won. and then with
the passenger's, and lost, having drawn some of its
own blood. theyz always drawing blood on the mentally
ill!!! grrr. *softly* grrl....

then the mentally ill went upstairs and had some
life, some food, some conversation on the phone,
and enjoyed the life of home alone.

then then mentally ill came down, determined
to drive to work to retrieve kristie's postcard
from nashua, made frankly with the mentally ill, in nashua,
and kristie-mailed to mentally's work. the mentally ill've
a web page with postcards on them and a very good
microtech scanner too. at home.

and so the mentally ill fought battle of the broken
off plastic thingee, part two, using unctious methods
communicated by ancestors via singing lines, namely, wd-40.

and with much suffering but no blooding, it all worked.
the victims, black, of course, of course, were throughly
ragged and torqued. then discarded and replaced.

then the mentally ill had to react to the passenger's
side wiper not wiping at all. the mentally ill,
being clever if neither mentally healthy nor legally able
to own a registration for a biathlon gun in the state
of illinois, used their new adjustable wrench to
enforce compliance from a real nut -- hah hah -- and the
wiping resumed according per regulations according to spec.

then the mentally ill drove the 12-year-old car grinning
and composing this poem in their head listening to mentally
dangerous repetitive and highly counterculture electronic
and montage music on a subversive community radio station,
all the while thinking to themselves, damn, we the ill don't
think we would ev-ah wan-nah trade places with all those
mentally unill niggers out there, you, yeah you who

what so proudly they hail...

whatever yer color.
the mentally ill say -- i'm black, what's color is that?
the mentally ill say -- i'm white, what color is that?

the mentally ill are smarter than you trafficked chumps.
...mary. mary. quite contrary. have mercy on them.