WE DRANK FROM ELEVEN JARS, OR KIND OF, LEFT UNKEPT ON A HALF BURNT TABLE.
WE SWAM AMONG SPACE INVADERS.
WE BENT ON OUR KNEES, AS IF OUR LEGS WERE ALL MADE OF FABRIC.
WE SAW THE DARK MILDLY LIT BY A TEAR DROP LIGHT BULB.
WE LENT OUR GREEN SWIRL OF HOPE TO UNKNOWN FRIENDS.
WE FLEW AWAY, DRIVEN BY A BLUE TWIST OF DOODLES,
AND THEN WE CAME BACK, AND SAT DOWN ON A TIRED CHAIR,
BECAUSE WE THOUGHT THAT THE DAY WAS GONE.
«SOMEONE TOLD ME THAT AMBER IS THE COLOR OF WHEAT IN LATE SUMMER», I SAID.
«TO ME IT'S A NAME»
«THEN I READ THAT IT'S ALSO LIKE ACACIA HONEY,
LIKE GOLDEN SUNBEAMS,
LIKE CEDAR POPSICLE STICKS,
LIKE LEMON TEA,
AND LIKE THE SLIGHTEST SLICES OF MOON (WHEN CUT BY ACCURATE HANDS
TO BE BLOWN INTO STILL SILENT BELLS)»
WE THEN HELD OUR BREATH AS A SHIVER RAN DOWN OUR SPINES:
A BLOCK OF ICE STOOD FREEZING AND STEADY
ON THE SHORE OF A SUDDEN LAPSE, SPREAD ALL OVER.
«LET'S SLINK OUT»,
OUTSIDE THE AIR WAS FRESH
AND THE TREES OVERCOME BY RAINBOW-LIKE STRIPES,
INEXPLICABLY WORN TOGETHER.
«UNEXPLAINABLE».
A HORSE MANE WAS SHAKING IN THE WIND,
AND WE FORGOT ABOUT IT ALL.
(SOMETIMES BROKEN PIECES DRAW UNEXPECTED SURPRISES
THAT SHINE FOR NO APPARENT REASON.
THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT IT)
«WE SPENT COUNTLESS HOURS LEANING ONTO THIS PALM TREE»
«SUN CITY STRIKES LIKE A DRUG»
«LIKE AN OPIOID»
AND LIKE OPIUM-CLUNG BEINGS WE SWANG ON THE AFTERNOON,
WRINGING AROUND A BIT, BUT MAINLY SWEEPING AWAY ALL KIND OF DUTIES
AND JUST LEAPING FROM HERE
(FROM THIS DESERT, WHERE BRIGHT-COLORED HOUSES
AND SPIKY SUCCULENT PLANTS GROW)
TO MANY OTHER PLACES (WHERE GEESE SLIDE ALONG RIVERS IN TIGHT GROUPS,
AND SHADOWS ARE SPLIT RIGHT IN TWO,
AND PEOPLE SINK IN THE MIDDLE OF THE STREETS,
AND CAMELS JUST STRIDE,
REGARDLESS OF ANYONE BUT THEMSELVES).
WE SWORE NOT TO SHOE ANY HORSE IF UNWILLING
NOT TO SHOOT ANYONE EVER
NOT TO SPIT INTO THE PLATE WHERE WE EAT
NOT TO STICK TO CRUMPLED SURFACES (UNLESS SLIT INTO HANGING, COLORFUL DRAPES).
«PEOPLE BUY HELIUM BALLONS»
«OR STING THEM UP AND FLING THEM ON THE FLOOR».
«MOSTLY THEY JUST BIND THEM TOGETHER,
CAST A SHADOW OVER WINNING GRAVITY AND NEVER SPEAK ABOUT THE SKY ANYMORE».
«PEOPLE ARE TOO HEAVY»
«SOMEONE FLED AWAY THOUGH, BY GETTING GOLDEN BOXES ONE
ON THE TOP OF ANOTHER»
A COULPE OF MEMORIES HIT OUR CONVERSATION:
FIVE SILVER PILLOWS AND A HOT-AIR BALLOON,
TORN BY CONSTRAINTS, INSIDE A NEON-SPOILT GALLERY
AND A CAVE (ALMOST KNELT TO CREEPING FIRE BUT LEADING NOWHERE).
«I LOST MY MIND WHEN WE MET THAT GUY.
HE WAS SELLING HIS OVERRUN IDEAS TO ANY SHIT-FED FAGGOT,
THAT DICK BRED ON MARSHMALLOW, BLEEDING FAT AND SUGAR OUT OF EVERY INCH OF HIS SHORN ZOMBIE-WHITE SKIN».
«YOU'RE BECOMING UNBEARABLE. YOU UNDERSTAND THAT, DON'T YOU?»
«I HEARD SO MANY CREEPY STORIES...»
«THEN JUST SHUT UP»
LUCKILY, A MAN THRUST OUR ATTENTION SOMEWHERE ELSE.
I BET IT HURTS TO BURST INTO NON-SENSE.
IF YOU DON'T FIT ANYWHERE, IT COSTS. IT HAS TO.
YOU, THE BROADCASTER OF YOURSELF, THE DIGGING DREAMER (THE DREAM DIGGER),
ALWAYS SPEEDING UP, YOU DWELLER OF UNTEACHABLE LEARNING,
BUILDER OF (EITHER) HIGHLY (OR HARDLY) PAID FEELINGS,
YOU FIGHTER OF COMMON SENSE, YOU SEEKER OF UNFOUND TRUTHS,
YOU'VE BEEN CAUGHT IN DANGER, BRINGING YOUR PRIDE AROUND -- UNFORGIVABLE.
HAS YOUR HEART BEEN STOLEN MEANWHILE?
YOUR SWOLLEN BRAIN HAS TAKEN ALL FOR ITSELF
AND NOW YOU'RE TREADING THE WINDING PATH OF LONELINESS,
PLAIN SIMPLE LONELINESS,
UNCHOSEN: JUST FALLEN UPON YOUR HEAD.
WHO DROVE YOU HERE? WHO WILL YOU STRIVE FOR?
WAKE UP AND GIVE US A BREAK.
WEAVE YOUR GROUND WEEPING FANTASIES SOMEWHERE ELSE,
LAY YOUR OVERCAST STINKING INTENTIONS FAR FROM HERE.
NO ONE WILL EVER BID A CENT ON THEM.
WE WON'T ABIDE TO BE BITTEN BY UNSENSITIVELY SENT MESSAGES
THAT DO NOT MEAN ANYTHING AT ALL.
OUR HIDDEN PLEASURES FINALLY AROSE AGAIN.
JUST WHEN OUR IMAGINATION WAS BEGINNING TO SHRINK
A SPRINGING BEAT OF DELIGHT WAS THROWN TO US
LIKE A RINGING BELL TO RIDE TO FORBIDDEN PLACES.
WE SET OUR MENTAL CLOCKS, QUIT POT, GET RID OF OUR OLD FEARS
PUT EVERYTHING IN ITS RIGHT PLACE, LIKE SHEDDING SNAKES,
AND DEALT WITH THE WONDER-SPILLING MACHINE WE TOO OFTEN SAWED AND MOWED
BEFORE SOWING, AND WITHOUT ANY REASONABLE REASON.
ARE SOME PLACES WITHDRAWN FROM REALITY?
AWOKEN, READY TO RISE,
WE WROTE A SINGING POEM TO SHOW YOU THE DEEP INUPSETTABLE CREATIVE MIND
OF A SLEEPING DOG.
Tools for practice:
