The Library of Fault

Jeff Crouch

Mistah Kurtz— he dead.

in that buzzing

larva yet, a soup of maggot


in that buzzing itch I quit
swatting fly

with buzzing, buzzing on belly
open eye


in all the flies


Mom won't let me look at porn sites

In history class, there was talk of Egyptian things, of the Book of the Dead, of the otherworld, of Egyptian contacts, of Egyptian flashlights, of Egyptian batteries, of spontaneous combustion (not something Egyptian), and of something akin to the transmigration of the soul.


a fundraiser for the Key Club

On PBS, there was I Claudius and Monty Python. There was Erich von Däniken and the debunking of Erich von Däniken, also on PBS. There was masturbation, there was the memory of a Penthouse magazine circa 1978 with an article about the Iran Crisis, there was religion, and there was poetry.

But what about science?

My job at McDonald's, my acne problem <> World Hunger

The Peacock Throne

The history teacher continued to make the claim that the British did not view the loss of its American colonies as a very important event in history, not given India and, later, the French Revolution, as evidenced by the fact that, she claimed, they did not send their best armies to the American colonies.

inadvertent cherry
until there's only incomplete
Grant Wood
divorce or marriage
Rembrandt Peale paints
uniformed good

Coca-Cola, soda pop

The truth of American TV: Gilligan's Island, and Robin had watched far too much TV.

This is true; I know it is.
until there's no end
no channel to change
the flesh taut
dilapidated, sagging

Robin had undergone a special surgery when he was 13; a monitoring device had been implanted in his leg. The reason for this surgery was simple. Robin had noticed the high percentage of likely rain if the weatherman predicted a 30% chance of rain.

hermaphroditic rain

His mother told him to tell people the scar on his leg was from a shark bite; it was a gash opened up by a cross between a German shepherd and a white husky that outweighed him by 40 pounds. Even a simple operation had to be covered by covert means.

an adult to point the way
to the garbage can
the latrine


roasting marshmallows at Camp Wisdom
apple filled with cinnamon

The methodology in the ICP was nothing new: hypnosis, drugs, . . .

When you join a cult, the cult members shave your head.

Now he laughs menacingly, and using his best impersonation of a movie character I cannot quite recognize, turns to the audience and utters, "How to trick the patient into believing in synchronicity."

"You will look at the clock at 2 PM and say to yourself, 'The onion is purple, but the sky is blue."'"

At 2 PM, someone enters the patient's room, and just as the patient is thinking, "The onion is purple, but the sky is blue," say, "The onion is purple, but the sky is blue."

mind meld

Parson Weems's Fable.

Yet the hypnosis was also worked in conjunction with something like horse whispering—though I am not sure what horse whispering is.

someone else's glee
the cake society
and she reads the recipe
like I don't care

baby bend to tie your shoelace
OK, fix your sandal strap
baby blink back

grammar is no picture

gums raw
the small piranha
with teeth like horses

ICP was the ultimate in social programming, perhaps the greatest experiment ever in subliminal messaging. The messages, however, weren't all subliminal. But the hidden-in-plain-sight disguise was, at least, equivalent to Poe—I am thinking of "The Purloined Letter"—, and its genius was the work of a German painter named Neil Broetze.


A little known fact: Neil Broetze was a war criminal who had invented a subversion of English known as dog talk where phrases like "judo" also translated to "you know." When I questioned Neil Broetze on this language, he said he had been inspired by the work of Mark Twain in Huckleberry Finn. His most famous work is a piece called Eiffel, which features the Statue of Liberty, the Emma Lazarus poem, and a runaway hotline number, which is a line to Babel Productions or was last I checked, which was a few years ago.


I am going to eat my own leg.

Robin's own father, like Frederick Douglass's own slavemaster father, had betrayed him. General Reginald Moore, or as his girlfriends called him, Dr. Kildare, or sometimes, Colonel Pole, had orchestrated his life from the beginning, and it was quite an interesting experiment.

driving lessons

Robin Moore was not unlike the experiment called Jim Morrison, but I am not going into a history of The Doors here. There should have been discovery and reconciliation, as in Caleb Williams, or discovery and rebellion with a purpose, as in Frederick Douglass's autobiography, but there was neither in Robin's life. Robin had, in one psychologist's phrase, a sleeping disorder.

the flies had taken a perch on his lip
he didn't flinch

Jeff Crouch is a writer in Grand Prairie, Texas. Google him.