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Friday, December 11, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Electromagnetism
And then the masked lady leads me into a room. It's tiny - one chair, a black window, and intertwined cables. She seats me in the chair and puts a blindfold and what appears to be -and turns out to be- a motorcycle helmet. However, the motorcycle helmet has attachments. More wires, probes, and a decal. A sphere containing the words: "GOD=BRAIN." So I settle in. The lights go off and I hear a calm female voice singing:
"Relax. Try to relax. Relax. You're tired."
The voice continues for several minutes, and gradually, very gradually, becomes more melodic and faint.
Eventually I fall into a trance with pulsing violet light.
But then it starts. What feels like a thousand tiny pebbles shoot up my spine. My thighs spasm and I tense. I'm blind now. I feel a light radiate from my sternum. But I can hear. I hear a violet sound, and it melts. Into golden brown. An old corn husk. What's there? Stop!
But I'm paralyzed and can't see. But I know they're there. My dead aunt grins wide to show me her teeth.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
William James
Lost epiphanies create regret. Here's an anecdote...and an answer.
As expected he had a brilliant revelation and this time he wrote it down.
Hours later, he read the philosophical idea that poured from his subconscious:
"Everything has a petroleumlike smell."
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Laughing Planet
The menu called for beansprouts. Against my first instinct, I included them on my sandwich. Divine intervention happens in even a seemingly insignificant decision. The sprouts crunched with the soil-like flavor of premature life.
Later, a triangular closet with the lights off. The color of candleflame spasms. Senses off but sound.
Asian Echoes
What's your measure of the American life?
An untold multitude mark their loyalty by Service, slaves to yellow vans and unholy Sabbaths. Their toil's reward is the whisper of "Master" from tired mouths.
An unseen minority hack passion into Lumber, connecting-the-dots for their dark-room coffee-tables.
Lamenting the times spent as collective beasts.
Fetal galleries display life in weeks. Eyes and ears and mouth and nose. The jug of knife-wielding drunks is candle-lit and labeled "VERNAL".
Roads of action. Whirls of inaction.
Insignificant coincidences talk-back through dashes.
The large-intestine length. The snare to middle-condenser distance.
58"
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Mystic Chevelle
In Echo Park I played floor Tom Keslin the Third who had triple bypass surgery Thursday of every month old ladies knit Macrame Owl pellets with mouse bones breaking silence with over compressed hand claps trailing waves trolling Lake Webster for Carp to shoot with a shot gun spear borrowed from Walter P Funk Allstars with a flashlight shining on Tatum's Snoring at the Country Hearth Inn as my subconscious screams like an empty lion and Chin repeatedly rolls like the pleats of Kevin's Cape.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
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