Breaking and Unsound Barrier
between contained and uncontained eye.
But the eye has never been contained
is only an approximate
I almost precisely understood my
relation to You, the other day...
No, it wasn't to do with the fact that I was Your You
(Yours or god's) is was that
there was a hole in me that was You.
If I adjusted my periphery, which immaterially
extended like a soucer from my center,
sort of screwed it around, and I felt this in 'real life'–
I could percieve the hole, both really You and really a hole.
The moth flies up with two holes painted on its wings.
Scientists say that the holes mine eyes
I say they mine you's.
So You were flooding me all day yesterday
merchants newscasters scientists celebrities
strikers government officials.
Go on down on down in the caves
where the You-hole fills with projections from my dark core
a sort of You that's I, but...
(help me get this right, I or You)
STOP BELIEVING, says the message,
THIS MAY BE A TEMPORARY MEASURE BUT
I smell whisky it's Hardwood there's a non-You...
"You're still believing," he says.
They're going to try an extraction on me
Pull out the tooth by the roots.
A blonde pulls it out..."Look it's clearly bi-lingual":
it has two huge roots. "English and French?" I ask
I didn't want to lose that tooth
"Honey, it could be more like
I and you, male and female, Soul and Will,
blonde and brunette, mind and body
Western dualism of some nature"
"I DON'T NECESSARILY WANT TO LOSE THAT TOOTH!"
I'm screaming. She
puts it back in.
Write something down.
Wash all the laundry piles of laundry
so it can blow away.
braincase expand shores center gravity melts
hall in (haul in?)
(some interference, I hear 'zigzag' and 'quack' at the same time)
gears and monsters made out of gears
arms held up to hit: "because you're so placable!"
"I wanted a woman the come inside":
who says it, the monster?
and he child in the layer years ago...
(this is like LSD twenty-six years ago)
truth mop white (repeat)
live cylindrical not-you head to toe black
(pointing finger) light white grave charge
rainbow snake over lintel of my house
lightning the real atom bomb
is a hooker house.
"What's all that?" asks Hardwood.
"I dreamed, awake, in language...
dreams contain no belied
but whenever I dream in any way
the content turns to sexism
the deeper I go, that's still what I know,
is there a ground below it"