my head is so filled with silence, the round murmur trundled, worked toward absence; then a delicate hum, a distant bee swarm en route, then i am engulfed one thousand yellow and black finger tips, two thousand glass wings flapping faster than the speed of sound, and i in the center, too struck to be scared.

I like your name.

I like that.

I like that agatha likes your name.

....from,THE POCKET OXFORD DICTIONARY...MILT n. reproductive gland or sperm of male fish;spleen of mammels.(O.E)

Lol V, no wonder why, I know there is a guy named "Milt" lol

v, you are an absolute bore.

also, in interest of being fair and open, i must say i know who jack is. the secret identity. v, you should fear this, a man who is so well endowed with information about your nemesis.

Ha! This is shaping up for major strange quite nicely. I should go make some popcorn.

you know what's really good with popcorn? fudge. not a lot, but just like a 1" cube of dense, melt on your tongue fudge. it snowed yesterday and is snowing again. it took me an hour and a half to drive home last night and an hour to drive to work this a.m. i stopped for doughnuts so that the doughty souls who made it in could reward themselves.

Margret, We had a rain today, and the temp is in the 40's ,i mean hey, it is December.

Oh sorry, Margret, if you would like to sip pretzel in chocolate and let it dry, it taste so good, you can use it for your family on christmas day. taste so good.

today i drew upon my strengths, & in being drawn they were deconstructed by a cruel taxonomist: the solid ground removed, reclassified; my simple & organic truth was cast aside for newer, better things, & molten in a discarded sense was i, & peculiar in my skin, perhaps a stranger has slipped within, has joined the choir i have formed to add one more voice who cries sweetly in the frosthung air & sneaks along these dormant streets, seeking solace in our sacred vessels.

i am a demon. milt i am a demon. and per se and & i am a demon.

Oh. I am beaming at you.

chas: hey. bet that was a good sandwich. liz: no, not really, no. chas: do you like...(lasciviously) CHEESE? liz: sure. chas: i'm charles jackson. my friends call me cheese.

I'm enjoying your writing, Milt. Are you really a Milt, or are you someone else from these boards posing as a Milt?

i think i know who milt is.

i hear milt knows jack. which would imply that jack knows milton. or something.

Jack, is that a kind of haiku? If you broke your lines differently, yes. i hear milt knows jack. which would imply that jack knows milton. or something.

hm. well, either i'm wrong about who milt is, or jack is someone other than 'jack', or milt is a liar, or the real milt knows something that i don't know s/he knows. if that isn't confusing. and i don't like haiku.

You're missing out. Issa is my favorite of the haiku artists. The snow is melting and the village is flooded with children. Climb Mount Fuji, O snail, But slowly, slowly. What a strange thing! To be alive beneath cherry blossoms. The man pulling radishes pointed my way with a radish. Blossoms at night, and the faces of people moved by music. In this world, we walk on the roof of hell, gazing at flowers.