he painted me when i was a young bartender
that forms around lost desire
the dirt won’t move to let you bury yourself.
why would a man come to my house and ask to borrow my child?
—–they have machines in them which are designed to erase the mind – – – –— – –– —–she never had a mind to erase – – – –— – –– —she’s not interested in anything —— – – — –– —she liked the color blue ——— –– – – ——everything on her body is blue – – – –– —– —which can’t go (her body) – –– –– —— – – —she’ll lie down in the tub and put the stopper in. she lets the water flow up by her ankles ——- –– – – – —she’s so submissive and stubborn she just looks at you – –– —— — – – —–those few opinions —– — –– – – —and about pain —– — –– — – – –she wants to spend her life doing nothing –– —— —- – – —the thing i still love doing with my time – – – –– ——- —–being —— – – –– –reading novels — –– — – – —— —i read only the coldest most impersonal novels – – ——– –– —the novels which coolly say this happened then that happened then that happened —– —- –– – –
Found a chunk of text in an old journal. Made some elisions and came up with a spooky bit of family poetry. Had a really hard time formatting the poem on wordpress, particularly the full justification combined with having the correct line breaks. If anyone has suggestions I’d love to hear them.
mostly unhappy characters
straighten out the keyboard
straighten out the laptop
straighten out the soft gradient, lounging across the wall
the light which pierces all raw material
like a snail’s
note: new movie annihilation drags up the fifth and final installment of george bernard shaw’s metabiological pentateuch back to methuselah. shaw posits a final evolutionary step for humans in the distant future, wherein the passage from fetus through adolescence to adulthood takes only a few hours: after a single afternoon’s brief, sweet social flings we pass, singly, into the wilderness, where we obsess with our own minds, mutating strange new physical forms to reflect our evolving mental states
john carpenter’s the thing proposes an alien life form on the level of a collective intelligence of networked individual cells, which take over and annihilate individuals of other species, in this act gaining the ability to replicate their form. so your dog might be not your dog but a thing and the thing is waiting to pass on its annihilating virus so that it can, in killing you, learn your form, and take it over
and in octavia butler’s adulthood rites she imagines an advanced lifeform which can explore and rewrite its own dna migrating from planet to planet, merging with and learning from the genetics of other species, and, like a soul gaining knowledge in each successive incarnation, advances toward its own idea of perfection with each new merging
this dream of mutational self-determinism, of literal metaphysicality, is also a nightmare . . . our ultimate existential vulnerability, we’ve learned, might be in our foundation, our weaving, our threads . . . the casting-off of the hangdog corpus to better reflect our mental, perhaps our digital, potential, increases liquidity but offers obverse nightmares . . .