Vulnerable.
Lovely and bereft, pure-pearlescent.
Blood dribbled down our backs, limbs' prickled commingling.
Wasteful mosquitos--
gluttony, a fucking in the grass.
Granules too ignored, pearls never to form,
cupped mollusk shell of hot tissues.
Eyes locked: election of gaping gazes,
ocular sphincters in rapt relaxation
intaking.
Rebreathed dioxide-carbon, vapor.
Burgeoning and unburdened at once,
all at once,
new oxygen like purest dopamine-
chill breeze, your warmth,
in a rush: sacrum to crown smashing
foreheadmagnetisms
bloodcrust crackling, darkening,
iron.
And still:
your breath's
wet plush, ripe sweet zinc,
shiny pennies, a kiss.
Still:
low hum, formless word, still
your voice vibrating
into mine:
orange sun's cry arcing unto the night.
Friday, December 14, 2018
04.11.018
"Fuck the patriarchy" and it will reproduce; a virus, a cancer. Eat the rich and you will sicken yourself on their excesses. Leave the slewn bodies to decay in plain sight-- devoured by beings incapable of such malicious greed as to be immune: bellies of displaced endangereds filled, cellular memory obliterated, insectuous infestations to mushrooms to microbes, molecular building blocks and aetherous ghosts dissipating eternally on aspens' aspirations-- and the blood will water the land. Let it end. Let it begin.
02.10.018
Mormon sons, witnesses to Jevovah
dressed all alike, peddling by judiciously:
their calves well-muscled,
filled and fed by milk meant for calves,
driving forward chains which turn the wheels
of a world enslaved.
dressed all alike, peddling by judiciously:
their calves well-muscled,
filled and fed by milk meant for calves,
driving forward chains which turn the wheels
of a world enslaved.
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Dreamsequence 12.09.018 / Into The Void
You were in a dream of mine last night. The sequence of events is hard
to remember. I was in this big wooded park area, looking for a spot to
sit that wasn't too close to anyone else. At some point a large, white,
Victorian-style house became part of the dream, and I ran into you
there.
You were with a large group of people, there was some sort of gathering there. I think we got to discreetly brush hands with one another at some point. I had to go do or see something (we said no more than a sentence or two each during the entire thing), and I had wanted to say bye or say something more, but the group sort of coalesced around you and you went with them, to a large tour bus, which drove away (inexplicably, as it was through the woods). I wandered off from the house and the grouping of people, into what was a larger woods than it had been earlier in the dream.
There was a great depression in the earth, with a lot of the vegetation having turned brown and faded. It made me think that it had been underwater at some point, and the area had an air about it, something like a curse, but I was cavorting in it. Something magical happened when I entered it-- I was flying a magic kite or I started gliding around myself, can't remember-- and then I found some sort of entrance that led underground. I entered, it was something like a labyrinth, strange markings and fluorescent lines seeming to take me on a path through it.
When I tried to go back I found I was lost, and everything had shifted so that it wasn't the same as before. There were places where I could see through to where the other people were, but I couldn't pass through and they couldn't see me. I met other people down there, or ageless shadows of their own selves, whom had each been down there for different amounts of time, some for hundreds of years. That's all I remember.
Also, hello.
You were with a large group of people, there was some sort of gathering there. I think we got to discreetly brush hands with one another at some point. I had to go do or see something (we said no more than a sentence or two each during the entire thing), and I had wanted to say bye or say something more, but the group sort of coalesced around you and you went with them, to a large tour bus, which drove away (inexplicably, as it was through the woods). I wandered off from the house and the grouping of people, into what was a larger woods than it had been earlier in the dream.
There was a great depression in the earth, with a lot of the vegetation having turned brown and faded. It made me think that it had been underwater at some point, and the area had an air about it, something like a curse, but I was cavorting in it. Something magical happened when I entered it-- I was flying a magic kite or I started gliding around myself, can't remember-- and then I found some sort of entrance that led underground. I entered, it was something like a labyrinth, strange markings and fluorescent lines seeming to take me on a path through it.
When I tried to go back I found I was lost, and everything had shifted so that it wasn't the same as before. There were places where I could see through to where the other people were, but I couldn't pass through and they couldn't see me. I met other people down there, or ageless shadows of their own selves, whom had each been down there for different amounts of time, some for hundreds of years. That's all I remember.
Also, hello.
Sunday, September 9, 2018
09.09.018
Friday 09/09/09, Beatles Rock Band was released. I worked at Blockbuster. We were to rent out not only the game, but apparently guitar controllers and electronic drum pads as well. The game did not do as well as expected, nor do I remember if we actually carried aforementioned guitar controllers or drum pads available for rental. Probably not. My memory is terrible, and I'm probably fabricating some of this.
I saw Tim Burton's movie "9" with my father. I thought we saw it on opening night, though, again, my memory does not serve me. I remember working my first shift at Target directly afterwards, and being so hungry that I threw up popcorn kernels and probably-rancid oil-based butter substitute. I worked more than 5 hours straight without a meal break; my first meal code violation on my first shift, though this should have been and was the responsibility of my trainer, with whom I was zoning in the Grocery department; learning about how the store's shelves were "left-justified," meaning that the label for each facing of product was to the left of the product itself, and the product merchandised to the right. I learned how to read a shelf schematic, and where to look on the shelf label to determine how many facings each piece of product was to have on the shelf.
I had just had my wisdom teeth out not a few weeks before, and my parents had divorced either right after or right before. I'm pretty sure the date of their divorce (which was a date, in a way; they went out for coffee afterwards and discussed how they might again date someday, once my mom had leveled out from her "pink cloud" sobriety status) was September 5th, the date of my orientation and official hire at Target. Again, my memory does not serve me.
Today, it is nine years later. Breakfast is dread, psych meds, and cold coffee gulped straight from yesterday's pot; overheard: meditation for an excessive hour to an paid-for app which is personified by the voice of a British man. British men are experts, don't you know. British people and their centuries-long colonial occupations are so sweet, and cute, and knowledgeable, and pure. Duh. Everyone knows that, though no-one knows that.
Empty here, if you don't count the volumes of misplaced judgment, corrosive acid. I have traveled distances, yet have realized no displacement.
My memory does not serve me.
I saw Tim Burton's movie "9" with my father. I thought we saw it on opening night, though, again, my memory does not serve me. I remember working my first shift at Target directly afterwards, and being so hungry that I threw up popcorn kernels and probably-rancid oil-based butter substitute. I worked more than 5 hours straight without a meal break; my first meal code violation on my first shift, though this should have been and was the responsibility of my trainer, with whom I was zoning in the Grocery department; learning about how the store's shelves were "left-justified," meaning that the label for each facing of product was to the left of the product itself, and the product merchandised to the right. I learned how to read a shelf schematic, and where to look on the shelf label to determine how many facings each piece of product was to have on the shelf.
I had just had my wisdom teeth out not a few weeks before, and my parents had divorced either right after or right before. I'm pretty sure the date of their divorce (which was a date, in a way; they went out for coffee afterwards and discussed how they might again date someday, once my mom had leveled out from her "pink cloud" sobriety status) was September 5th, the date of my orientation and official hire at Target. Again, my memory does not serve me.
Today, it is nine years later. Breakfast is dread, psych meds, and cold coffee gulped straight from yesterday's pot; overheard: meditation for an excessive hour to an paid-for app which is personified by the voice of a British man. British men are experts, don't you know. British people and their centuries-long colonial occupations are so sweet, and cute, and knowledgeable, and pure. Duh. Everyone knows that, though no-one knows that.
Empty here, if you don't count the volumes of misplaced judgment, corrosive acid. I have traveled distances, yet have realized no displacement.
My memory does not serve me.
Tuesday, July 17, 2018
Monday, July 9, 2018
09.07.018
I can not get to the world I see in my head. There seems to be no bridge, and the floodwaters are thundering down the mountainside. The Earth shakes.
Saturday, June 23, 2018
22.06.018 Tangential Portals
He went to every place they had been together, hoping to find the crossing into that other universe. Looking for signs, patterns, repetition, hoping in his heart of hearts that that the portal, the means of crossing to the other side of the brook, would be there. For a short while, the wound between universes had appeared to be in a spot-- hovering, a slow pulsation-- a short distance above his bed. The vision soon faded, eroded by too much moonlight.
The ducks in the toxic water gave him no direction. No point of access in the mirrored surface, wreathed in the scent of warm wildflowers, nor did the drone of cicadas give way to a thin veil of static to be drawn aside. The Thai restaurant required a reservation, and so he could not get inside for some time.
When he did, he ordered his food, same as the first time, looking around the bar as he did so. Nothing. It occurred to him that the three drinks might be the key-- and though he'd transitioned into sobriety at this point, he tried anyway-- alas. All he had left was the coffee shop, which didn't seem as promising, and the back-yard tiny house rental. The loft bed. Feet on the wooden ceiling (oh, you've got the darkest eyes); but he dared not break in.
Spacetime was his prison. That old feeling of paralysis.
The ducks in the toxic water gave him no direction. No point of access in the mirrored surface, wreathed in the scent of warm wildflowers, nor did the drone of cicadas give way to a thin veil of static to be drawn aside. The Thai restaurant required a reservation, and so he could not get inside for some time.
When he did, he ordered his food, same as the first time, looking around the bar as he did so. Nothing. It occurred to him that the three drinks might be the key-- and though he'd transitioned into sobriety at this point, he tried anyway-- alas. All he had left was the coffee shop, which didn't seem as promising, and the back-yard tiny house rental. The loft bed. Feet on the wooden ceiling (oh, you've got the darkest eyes); but he dared not break in.
Spacetime was his prison. That old feeling of paralysis.
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