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Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dreams. Show all posts
Sunday, March 11, 2012
slipstream
Sunday, April 24, 2011
(head willow hoop)
I's dreamcatcher Netskull Lint-trap For Somnambulant fluff Capturer of impressions Other people's futures I's antenna a Lightning rod I's antiawake & walking
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
self-consistency and incompleteness in axiomatic theorem systems
I. Somebody New Just Died in Your Dreams Tonight
A door slams, and somebody dies
in your dreams
I was above, upstairs, in a rickety bed in the attic
Or at least in a small room on the top floor
Of an old house
Sheltered from the caprice of your acoustics
Shots fired---interpretation of evidence in the face of blindness
Unconsciousness
A clap of closing, and somebody fell
your father,
in fact,
A crime of coincidence, passionless
Shattering heart against stone-cold catacombs
Leaving you kneeling by his patricide
Entombed by the flickering of your eyes
II. The Flying Butter Effect
Our greatest piece is our dialogue
Cause and effect
A butter flies, and somebody dies
The flying butter effect is when something melts in your mind,
creating a new substance---when two or more associations---the
butter, the heat, the butterfly effect---
work upon each other in friction
It's cooking
Now you're cooking
Butter makes everything better
Sleeplessness and sleep do the same things---they melt the cavernous walls of the corridors of the mind
the butter of time
Lathering it all to mix together like in a cranium bowl
A sweet-associative molasses of confection-connections
III. Metaphormorphosis
When the pillars of caterpillars
Burst into butterflies
Demolishing the ancient architecture,
(abandoned marble and grassland)
for the laneless skyways
The flutter of wings' flap
(the shutter-speed of an eyelash)
Dream sequence
(capture photographs of mental maps)
& everything changes
IV. Post-Donation Instructions
Today, "on wheat" sounded like "ennui"
when I approached the deli counter
Dizzy from blood loss
No inspiration forthcoming
But then
(Chaos theory)
And my mind is mine again
A door slams, and somebody dies
in your dreams
I was above, upstairs, in a rickety bed in the attic
Or at least in a small room on the top floor
Of an old house
Sheltered from the caprice of your acoustics
Shots fired---interpretation of evidence in the face of blindness
Unconsciousness
A clap of closing, and somebody fell
your father,
in fact,
A crime of coincidence, passionless
Shattering heart against stone-cold catacombs
Leaving you kneeling by his patricide
Entombed by the flickering of your eyes
II. The Flying Butter Effect
Our greatest piece is our dialogue
Cause and effect
A butter flies, and somebody dies
The flying butter effect is when something melts in your mind,
creating a new substance---when two or more associations---the
butter, the heat, the butterfly effect---
work upon each other in friction
It's cooking
Now you're cooking
Butter makes everything better
Sleeplessness and sleep do the same things---they melt the cavernous walls of the corridors of the mind
the butter of time
Lathering it all to mix together like in a cranium bowl
A sweet-associative molasses of confection-connections
III. Metaphormorphosis
When the pillars of caterpillars
Burst into butterflies
Demolishing the ancient architecture,
(abandoned marble and grassland)
for the laneless skyways
The flutter of wings' flap
(the shutter-speed of an eyelash)
Dream sequence
(capture photographs of mental maps)
& everything changes
IV. Post-Donation Instructions
Today, "on wheat" sounded like "ennui"
when I approached the deli counter
Dizzy from blood loss
No inspiration forthcoming
But then
(Chaos theory)
And my mind is mine again
Monday, March 7, 2011
Gone Fishin'
Fever dream: I'm
cutting through salmon-streams of piranha-people
scoops of sardines squeezed between whale baleen
shot out of blowholes, cut up by coral
strangled by tendrils, cackling deafening electrical crackles
just a small fish in a gargantuan pond
drowning in an ocean of omnipresent stimulation
cutting through salmon-streams of piranha-people
scoops of sardines squeezed between whale baleen
shot out of blowholes, cut up by coral
strangled by tendrils, cackling deafening electrical crackles
just a small fish in a gargantuan pond
drowning in an ocean of omnipresent stimulation
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Sweet Dreams
In dreams I am Icarus, cooked by the Sun of the day; in free fall, as the last black vestiges of subjective skepticism are charred off brittle distant/nonexistent skin, pulled down by the heavy gravity of sleep, approaching an annihilating oceanic subconsciousness. And the bubble, bursting, cakes up anything ever used as material for me, and the thing that is plummeting through the meniscus of oblivion is not me; and so a wounded animal somewhere recognizes its cage, comprised of high school lockers, as meant for a someone whom its guards cannot remember and have always failed to capture; and yea, though this creature is unfairly charged, it is yet tried for this forgotten someone's wrongdoings; hunted/haunted by the faces of that someone's acquaintances, and it has neither wits nor history with which to defend itself, only a crippling chestful of guilt; and so it bounds through this funhouse of horrors for eight hours at a time in an instant, until game is called and the hounds retreat, only to call rematch the following evening
Friday, January 21, 2011
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Sleep now, or forever fall to pieces
Sleep---sense of self, sense of everything? balance, significance, memory, knowledge?
(Is sleep everything?) Without it, we die.
Dreams---a story we walk through/create in the raw process of...defragmentation, reorganization?
Oneiric: relating to dreams
Without processing, we are nothing---or too much
Time to strengthen the tree roots, to crunch the mind's detritus
To grow back the limbs that were cut off while awake
To lose ourselves & stroll through oblivion
(Is sleep everything?) Without it, we die.
Dreams---a story we walk through/create in the raw process of...defragmentation, reorganization?
Oneiric: relating to dreams
Without processing, we are nothing---or too much
Time to strengthen the tree roots, to crunch the mind's detritus
To grow back the limbs that were cut off while awake
To lose ourselves & stroll through oblivion
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