the realm beyond my site (my sight) is blackness. but it is a noisy squeaking blackness. a blackness filled with firework & cicada & a thousand inner lights. An oily “Year Zero” of consciousness.
i strain, i tumble, i twist and i spin.
it is a place
where the unglow of gunshot meets the yelling of the flat shadow
& it’s all zroooom & zroooom & cuthunk
is the grey possum out there a murder-er?
—is the motorcycle a queen?
no rest in south atlanta,
cicadic mass speaks out in to me from Urdark
as a silhouette changes sheets
as a cockroach splats (for ice)
dear Dark is nature’s sensory deprivation chamber. her most treasured blank’ed out slate. yet this Dark here tonight, it’s already quite external-extraverted. it’s already quite fulllup yes quite people-ed. her insect sirens casting blue—as stray tuxedo crosses path. But its mammalian “meow” is spoken with a silent “M”. & a silent “E” and a silent “O” & a silent “W”, too.
the same tuxedo? as last night’? perhaps. my own tuxedo, he’d scratched at the door. a thing at the door, he’d said. but i’d opened that white door, and i seen the Nothing. and the goodluck bell had shimmered for me afterwards, it had vomited me out into.… in the back hall, my lover dreams quietly. are her dreams more marvelous than my halfwaking reveries? is her downgoing more firm & reptilian? is a dream-exoskeleton more bountiful than a dream-endoskeleton?
you don’t play favorites
a constant drip drip
from that previously rainy day
she’s my sole companion
her speech indecipherable
yet her words go like this:
“skeleton key for the fruit sack”
“unzip the pink fruit sack of the earth”
“we’re all avocado”
& so on
she’s pink, so pink
ah just like the rest of ‘em…
well! but the cats don’t seem to mind a little insomnia-bout on the part of their humanoid-elect. yet i’m frazzled, at least. & i’m still searching out the boundaries of that nonexistent horizon for the long-promised, coded “erector set” of Night messages. the ones that will sponge it up real fine. is she out there? am i? are we anywhere? the night withholds her bounty of Secret from me. she’s shady like that, you know. intestinal.
i close my eyes real real tight. i spin the lotto wheel i play the grand ol’ “inner game” now. i whisper into a bluewell. “fuzzy mind fuzzy mind fuzzy mind”. gotta say 3 times, punk. 3 times for a true summoning. but! under i-lid one and i-lid two? just more obsidian worm-shifters, that’s all, that’s all for me & my fresh kin. again & again & again. big deal, you say. try again? sure sure whatever yasay why not. i’m game. we all have a bit of a gambling problem, us surrealists. and how! but? when that sweet ladyluck finally shines on us—when that sweet ladyluck finally orgasms out her 3 chanceseed—what a nude Frenzy then follows! it’s positively recompressed inside us then, it’s positively electromagnetic!
paperweight glistens. a new “yellow” mood, perhaps? Dreamtime winks over at me. Dreamtime turns himself over on a wellborn carpet. up ahead. belly up! Dreamtime bares his milkywhite nipple to the wellpassing stars, Dreamtime surpasses himself & all others too within cascading pudgy plump discharge. in other words— i’m headed off to bed now, dear reader. & all y’all bed bug vampirics, y’all can even maybe bite can even “nibble about” on my astrals later, if you must. but only if you must. yes indeed. a succubus for every suburban home…
my ingrown toenail has something to say first, though. one final word on this un or urharmonious night:
“hypnos, beware! for within the gloombody of this unknown sweetened midnight—many admirable disasters, to be soonish overheard… ”
(ingrown gives a brief toepause for dramatic effect)
“…& this new gossip of slaughterhouse strangeness that lies within us—“reborn”, as it were, by that two-timing morrow…!?”
(ingrown’s purple toupee falls off mid-speech. he frowns down at it, and then continues)
“…miraculous sleepers! when a cloudborn mouse & a tunneling macaw do the final foamup together, one must take greatest care with the oldest of teas. & when a blackholeborn manatee & a webspinning mole start gaining seats in the romanian senate…”
(ingrown stops abruptly, walks offstage, drops his zipper, pisses, and then returns to his podium)
“…these wonderkin disasters, though soonish overheard, are soonish underheard, as well! and that, dear comrade, is the where & the when of it…! ”
(ingrown, looking rather confused by his own words, begins shuffling back through his copious notes. ingrown sighs & then gazes longingly at the exit)
“…in conclusion? whippoorwill! for at 3:33, one must listen well & well. must be the metempsychotic? no & no & no. one must be of the Desiring…goodbye!”