The writing of James J. Slattery and his pseudonym, J.S. McInroy

Walking Jesus



Calling Elvis

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words, phrases sentences and quanta of approximated meaning flow through my mind as do the waters of a tidal river such as the ancient hudson along whose shores i have goneandcome  directly to the sea flow the droplets of its 2 foot fall and directly backward up to the troy dam flow its tidal currents during the appropriate relationship between the earthen satellite of the sun and its bounden servant the moon of insidious intent  forces flow all about us  we observe their effects in the wind of blowing leaves and trilling branches the inescapable patterns of clouds and sunlight the rivers especially of estuarial nature such as my hudson sister  forgive me pal

as it is i am able to see straight ahead and to walk in my sights direction  so too am I able to think in straight lines and both observe the rules as they are presented to us all in some fashion of language or other of discourse and logic  i am able to do so much more i am no mathematician nor do I desire to be  i do however enjoying conversing with myself by number  sometimes with the outside world too

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at times daylighttime nightfalling and nightofdarkness times happysadandallthetimes i fail to accept as more than the illusional delusions of the selfidentified slaves to sight and sound and touch taste and odor around me the words i have just employed to express the inexpressible truth i have been chosen to behold  the river flows up and down i wake and sleep  the earth whirls its merry way subject to those rules we have chosen to apply to our consciousness of their elementary flux and flow  i know no equations hold no degrees of any sort  i recognize the inseparable reality of turbulence and chaos of order and disorder language and numbers awareness and denial  i refuse to bind them up freeze them in place name and thereby destroy that which i have rendered concept thereby depriving it of life  i know nothing  you know nothing  we know nothing  the known becomes the unknown by virtue of its being known

sometimes i ride the arrow backward into the i before i was i  sometimes i am wombbound and at peace with the words and numbers bounding and mixing together across the playground of my consciousness.  Sometimes i would remain the foetus wrapped in cloths of embryonic fluid poised

upon the threshold of something i have no desire to experience  a world i find a most uncomfortable

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fit  it is at that time of one more prebirth desiring to remain the unbirthed that i most likely tell the beads of my lifes refusal  i move toward the separation of sperm and ovum body and soul consciousness

desufer i evah yhw

hanavrin dereffo neeb evah i

ssenllits drawot staeb traeh ytpme ym em on  uoy on ecaps or emit on fo ytilaer eht ni kcab taolf i

i have no answer  i recognize the futility of seeking  i wind about myself beneath the pines of our neglected yard  i inhale the scent of chattering nattering extravagantly producing reproducing faltering and dying animals  i would despair were despair an available option. i pray for oblivion  cough my own spoor into the mockery

would that she could allow me to disappear into at least a temporary death wherefrom i might succeed in successfully resisting another round of the joke some so reverently call life  she never fails  bless and damn her  only once did I nearly escape her restoration

beneath my favorite severed and split up tree I lay for most of several days  pal had been called to some duty or other as often happens. I nearly made it  shes too much  the feather of her awareness brushed light into the darkening sky of my current identity  I knew I was lost  I resisted  she returned me to imperfection


she found me unconscious or so she later declared  my curse is never to be free of awareness  i felt her approach  cringed as her whispered caress stripped away my will  all she did is known to me was experienced as it would have been by one not nearly so close to expiration as was i  i am required to love her to accept her  but i shall never appreciate the power she holds over me and her willful i do believe twisted employment of it

hself ma i i am told  i need no reminders  were to be left to my own devices i would be no more  no less  drow ton  tirips ton ylno hself!!!!!



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you are flesh of my flesh body and blood of all that we are and you are also the word the spirit and the anointed one pallie whispered  we all even the least of us are all that we are and are as a condition of the reality we term life unable to escape from the conundrum  even death offers no freedom for is it not an essential condition of life  of the flesh  poor poor yoshi my more than brother and less than equal

her voice sweet as the scent of lilacs in the spring her touch as delicious as chocolate wrapped around my tongue she gathered from all around us in the wilds of our overrun suburban lawn tendrils of raspberry and commenced to wind them about my unremembered naked form  someone elses arms and black lace thighs stuttered ripe red fruit liquid and pure  someone elses hands grew heavy with abundant blossoms  anothers brow wept a song of thorns  his eyes sparkled with garbled tears and glittering pain

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9  24  1 13  16 2  20 8 5  9 23 20  23 15 18 4  12 4 7 19 . .

mi delian thgir ni


I have much to tell you but words are inadequate for the message. I am not Lazarus, but I am newly returned. Oh, hell, that’s not it at all. That’s not what I meant at all. And numbers! Numbers trail on and on so many grains of sand the eternal returning to the infinite from which theyit never came. My idiotic substitutions serve no purpose other than to confront others with their own inability to know the things I know but which I am unable to express. I shall become the mute prophet I was ever meant to be. Follow me if you dare. I walk not up Calvary’s hill but upon a more dangerous and painful way. My Pal of my once upon some now or never said it best when it comes to you.

“You ain’t nothin’ but a hound dog.”

Now, now, please don’t cry.

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