0fu (![[info]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} 0fu) wrote,@ 2004-12-13 16:13:00 |
|
ch 8-18 Automat Opia
Prolog:
they come for us, too many little fingers.
So what happens next?
the quick among the memories of washing masses,
thrown into an inperceptable limbo, upturned, wrent,
the last relentant graps stop seeking edges-
those who can, flee.
neglected wares, recklessly abandoned,
sense of pursuit through deserted streets
where there is little left to do
afterthoughts, quickly coalesce, get out of hand.
Let’s please just pause for station identification...
efforts onto the void, the sounds of concussion,
monolyths, images of a possible scenario
A ragged breath for those who listen for it.
signs of wear, as prey falters and is overcome.
8.) statues of the dissidents.
the substance of this street-
ingrained infintesimal graffiti.
spun.
set in sync, just enough
to belay small hopes that things could simmer down.
a crowd once watched, aghast,
as someone was swept up in it,
turned suddenly hack-kneed and askew.
i watched him shudder, after;
his insides granted a strange visibility
the want to help set against the fear
of touching who did not quite seem to exist.
so, in effect, (to whit) my plan is for siesta.
a tranquil tavern scene- in walking distance, yes...
eastern cliches of interesting times,
does *anyone* know what that was?
& so it came to pass
that babbles became coffee-break banter.
case and point:
there, just now,
that fence that was just there, right there,
and now not.
apparently, they can do that,
a factory option for fence non-existence.
i catch myself in a 'come on, now!?' gesture.
...about a fence, that isn't there... great.
bit of a spectacle, hm?
moving on.
like a light switch, that.
most pretended to not notice.
an ever moving crowd sprinkled evenly
with the smirks of the thoroughly insane.
maybe it IS best just not to expect it,
evolve to an instinctual creature.
ever onward, all that,
a flyer, hung once however tenuously
from the fence in question,
flutters meaningfully in my path,
this is so a setup.
but who am i to disregard a fortuitus nudge,
stoop down, scoop up, tattered flyer in my hand
a slight strange warmth,
stuffed unceremoneously in jacket pocket.
a brisk turn at the corner.
is that, perchance, neon?
an instinctual gesture.
thoughts of what she wants of me,
define me,
watch it become mine.
I can’t help but be maliable sometimes.
But sell thy wares elsewhere, kitten.
As there is weathermen and aphids here.
(
5/3/2001
I hiked the mountain to the temple.
The sound of aphids,
hella loud among the ruined walls
And then not, like they were never there,
I stood on the outjut rock and lost my soul,
Came back singing some strange song.
(
she comes here washed in another life,
tactile and obvious.
It is to be a puzzle then?
i would be remiss not to bring issue with it,
picked up pencil
nicks a mark on Food Pavilion receipt.
)
)
11.) ever get the feeling you were being watched?
She caught me slipping,
came back in an ackward stumble,
the want to ask what I’ve missed,
her expectant look,
an inward chortle at my coming-to procedure,
should I tell her ‘I can build it?’
“What?”
‘..an antennae, THE antennae,
an antennae like none other’
I feel my persona slip into madcap scientist,
like prewarmed sheets in the thick of winter shit,
like i was built for it
“you can build: an antennae?”
a pause for a bit, let it sink in, yes.
‘that I can do, remarkably easy, actually, to build it’
I believe she’s seen someone she knows,
my arm is grabbed,
affectionate, insistent
& I am led to the back room.
idle hands gesture her punctuation
and her intended path to the perepherial people,
that swirl around us in our progress.
“I can’t believe you ate that sushi”
I admit it was a definite low point.
she leads me by a table of,.. people?
That don’t seem to exist,
They can’t possibly be just place filler.
A gentle tug at my elbow and I remember my place
I think I was galking.
“its best not to stare, you don’t know who lives there.”
empty eyes with an inside undefined,
who do you work for?
she stops and gives me 1000 watts of goose eye
"can i ask what your antennae does?"
I say the first thing that comes in my head.
‘you’re requesting classified information,
here are my demands,
buy me a drink, a tom Collins,
lets sit a bit, at a confortable table and have
episodes of witty banter,
pay my bar tab.
take me home,
bondage scenarios optional.
tea time as an interlude.
then in the tub, afterwards,
I’ll paint upon you an expert soap-sud mustache
and tell you what my antennae does.’
I remember much more about fair Rowan, now.
‘hey, there’s a friend of mine, lets go sit with her.’
I continue to find it interesting, how some among our
species continue to have good luck,
13.) A fortuitous string of concurrent events.
I guess if I happened to be in such a place
I wouldn’t question it ether.
‘this is acceptable, who am I meeting?”
“my friend, Yvonne, the one waving the glass around.”
(“Notice she doesn’t spill?”)
“The other folk- I could give you a good guess..,
But there exists two seats
and chances of a pleasant recline ,
would we not be remiss to pass up such a
fortuitous coincidence? Yvonne will like you ”
shes laying it on thick, a bit
‘you say that like she’s not supposed to.’
I gesture foreward
what does your friend do?’ “yvonne?”
‘yes, your friend Yvonne.’
Her friend’s nae is Yvonne.
“for what?” ‘..what?’
”what does my friend Yvonne do?” ‘exactly my question’.
“do for what?”
‘’for fun’
“she obsesses over icons in human culture."
‘then I will tell her of my shiny red button.’
“she’d like that.
what do you want to do?”
‘for what?’
“about your daydreams of antennaes?”
‘I want to push the button.’
our approach is over.
“Hey Yvonne, this guy just had some weird vision
about building an antennae..”
14.) the inevitable, served cold.
some time has passed
I know what she’s going to say next, unfortunate but true.
I count the instances in the pause before the inevitable.
i do this as fast as I can.
‘what if I told you I have heard that one before?’
I’ve heard her say this, (before,) .
other undisclosed spots, 3 times, I think of it, her saying this,
at just such a moment in conversation.
and now a part of me has all but the obvious answers,
hense this episode will, indeed, be a novelty,
“stop me oh oh oh stop me, stop me
if you think that you’ve heard this one before”
my morrisey is impeccable.
visions of strange elements, peripherial people, unknown & friendly,
some strange artiface that no one speaks of.
My hand extends like it wants to lay on a heathen,
A slight elvis wiggle.
( for some reason I hear the thumbing of a deck of cards.)
‘are you for real?’
these words, I’ve come up with,
I’ve way too much practice
for just this.
my methods, my means(?)
the cadence of my words might have one believing (, temporarily),
that I was wearing a coyboy hat?
A part of me aghast that I supped from the stutter
It seemed that I could pause forever, perusing options
as nothing else was happening.
9) see an enemy
a slathering ,
one must have advanced defenses to survive.
Lost in a tundra, a pause with no answer,
the urge from others to think of one,
But apparently its best to stretch this out as long as possible,
Pull up short just in time, buggs bunny manuvere,
Luckily, just then, this fence
just folded in on itself,
which caused a few among us to flip out, (just) a bit.
“did you just see that?” ‘shhhh’, shut the fuck up hand flutter gestures.
“no, really, that guy,””saw it to0.”
Its obvious he feels tactless and obvious,
standing amidst the flow of traffic,
and so will probablay have nothing much to say for the rest of the story.
10.) ‘mister, please stop talking, you sound pathetically insane’
she said this to him, and he is so trodden as to mime
some demeaning guffaw ritual, right then he just did that,
like watching someones gravestone.
Shut him the fuck up though.
the quick and the dead. I think, standard retreat tactics.
Images perk like praire dogs and scatter.
This lad spins like a dead stars, sucking intent away
from that which is necessary to not fuck me in the head. ,
a strange predicament that can’t end well, I think.
But curiosity gets the better(a tendency for this, I’m noticing),
I admit being compelled to follow,
Lets watch this strange episode unfold.
Social camoflage, in approximate earshot.
She’s hot, actually, all stacked up upon herself,
Like multiple versions of this all end with her exactly here.
Follow boy with tag-along action. She’s herding him.
Subtle gestures, bene-geserite tricks. Pulled off to the instant
of when appropriate. A part of me wonders what time clock she’s on.
She looks back at me, knows I’m watching, doesn’t care.
She’s caught up in the inevitable. They’ve arrived at a backroom table.
18.)curiosity and kittens
“well look here, I haven’t seen you in a while”
I have but to utter 2 more sentences,
I pick a name from a hat,
‘rowan, long time, please sit’
two chairs have been, as per expectation,
fortuitously cleared. One down
“can my friend join?”
‘absolutely’ pattern completed, signing off
apparently my permission for this lad to sit
is crucial, I said my lines with authority.
now sit back and watch the show.
EPILOG:
THE INSIDES OF OLD MACHINES, THE FEAR OF THEM
MONKEY-URGE TO PRAY TO UNKNOWN GODS,
TO KEEP THEM FUNCTIONING.
JUST ANOTHER BREATH.
METROPOLICE,
BELLOWS THAT NEED CONSTANT CARE.
& WE’RE HELD OVER FOR AN INFINITE ENGAGEMENT.
THEY MEANT TO MAKE A COG OF ME.
ESCAPE HATCH, JUST ENOUGH ON MY BACK
TO FLAIL INTO THE VOID, AND LAND, SOMEWHERE.
VISIONS OF TREE FROGS, SUCKERS EXTENDED.
I’VE ONLY JUST ACLIMATED,
I FEEL THEM COME FOR ME AGAIN,
A TASTY MORSEL THEY JUST CAN’T LET SLIP PAST
I GUESS.
EMERGENCY PROCEDURES, I’M GOOD AT THIS NOW.
EVERYTHING INTO A SNICKER-SNAK BAG STRAPPED MY BACK
NO CLINKS NO CLANKS, STREAMLINED AND INNOCUOUS.
TANKER BOOTS WITH THE HEELS CUT OFF SO I DON’T THUD.
ALL CLOTHES IN SHADES OF GREY.
THE REQUISITE FLOPPY HAT.
SHE DOESN’T WAKE UP.
THAT’S HOW I KNOW:
THERE ARE NO BEAUTIFUL AND ACKWARD BUMBLINGS,
JUST EFFICIENCY, IT NEEDS TO HAPPEN.
THE UNDENIALABLE KNOWLEDGE THAT SOMETHING IS TO BE SETTLED.
DOWN THE STAIRS, 2 AT A TIME, SLIGHT CROUCH, NO NOISE
STRAFING PATTERN. I’M USED TO BEING HUNTED.
ALL POSSIBLE EXITS BECOME BEACONS, AND THE SCENARIOS
BEGIN TO STACK, A KITTEN PAW DANCE OF WHAT ABOUT TO HAPPEN.
I COULD JUST BE TRIPPING, WAKING UP TO
A HECTIC EXIT PROCEDURE AT FOUR IN THE MORNING.
BUT I WAS TOO FAR IN TO IT BY THE TIME THAT I AWOKE,
TO NOT HELP BUT CONTINUE.
EXIT 1 ACUIRED, AND I’M A NOW GIRL,
ALIVE ONTO CITY STREETS,
EVERYTHING BLISSFULLY ABANDONED
AND EVERYONES IN PLAY.
MY CADENCE KEEPS THE STREET LIGHT POSTS
AND OTHER URBAN FLAK
BETWEEN ME AND THE INEVITABLE PASSER-BY.
AND WHEN ALL IS QUIET, AND THERES NO ONE AROUND, I RUN.
LIGHT STACATO STEPS ON THE BALLS OF MY FEETS.
MY TORSO BARELY BOUNCES.
I HEAR THE SHOE SCUFFS OF SOMEONE AROUND THE BUILDING CORNER
LUMBERING, NON THREAT,
A QUICK LOPING ARC IN THE MIDDLE OF THE INTERSECTION,
AND SPRINT, AS MY FEET HIT THE SIDEWALK ON THE OTHER SIDE.
2 BLOCKS DOWN, I BEGIN TO RELAX.
I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM,
VAGUE IMAGES OF A CONFORTABLE TAXI RIDE,
DID I NOT ONCE LOOK OUT THE WINDOW?
TRAFFIC HAS PICKED UP. I SLOW, FIGHT MY LUNGS NEED FOR AIR,
AND FEEL MY SKIN BEGIN TO COOL.
(‘NEVER LET THEM SEE THAT YOU’VE BEEN RUNNING!’)
dukes all night café, teamsters huddled in booths, eggs and coffee.
Mmm coffee. A random human sampling, a payphone, and a sense of location.
I sit, recline, caffeine laden with cream and sugar, and wait for sunrise.
‘
Prolog:
they come for us, too many little fingers.
So what happens next?
the quick among the memories of washing masses,
thrown into an inperceptable limbo, upturned, wrent,
the last relentant graps stop seeking edges-
those who can, flee.
neglected wares, recklessly abandoned,
sense of pursuit through deserted streets
where there is little left to do
afterthoughts, quickly coalesce, get out of hand.
Let’s please just pause for station identification...
efforts onto the void, the sounds of concussion,
monolyths, images of a possible scenario
A ragged breath for those who listen for it.
signs of wear, as prey falters and is overcome.
8.) statues of the dissidents.
the substance of this street-
ingrained infintesimal graffiti.
spun.
set in sync, just enough
to belay small hopes that things could simmer down.
a crowd once watched, aghast,
as someone was swept up in it,
turned suddenly hack-kneed and askew.
i watched him shudder, after;
his insides granted a strange visibility
the want to help set against the fear
of touching who did not quite seem to exist.
so, in effect, (to whit) my plan is for siesta.
a tranquil tavern scene- in walking distance, yes...
eastern cliches of interesting times,
does *anyone* know what that was?
& so it came to pass
that babbles became coffee-break banter.
case and point:
there, just now,
that fence that was just there, right there,
and now not.
apparently, they can do that,
a factory option for fence non-existence.
i catch myself in a 'come on, now!?' gesture.
...about a fence, that isn't there... great.
bit of a spectacle, hm?
moving on.
like a light switch, that.
most pretended to not notice.
an ever moving crowd sprinkled evenly
with the smirks of the thoroughly insane.
maybe it IS best just not to expect it,
evolve to an instinctual creature.
ever onward, all that,
a flyer, hung once however tenuously
from the fence in question,
flutters meaningfully in my path,
this is so a setup.
but who am i to disregard a fortuitus nudge,
stoop down, scoop up, tattered flyer in my hand
a slight strange warmth,
stuffed unceremoneously in jacket pocket.
a brisk turn at the corner.
is that, perchance, neon?
an instinctual gesture.
thoughts of what she wants of me,
define me,
watch it become mine.
I can’t help but be maliable sometimes.
But sell thy wares elsewhere, kitten.
As there is weathermen and aphids here.
(
5/3/2001
I hiked the mountain to the temple.
The sound of aphids,
hella loud among the ruined walls
And then not, like they were never there,
I stood on the outjut rock and lost my soul,
Came back singing some strange song.
(
she comes here washed in another life,
tactile and obvious.
It is to be a puzzle then?
i would be remiss not to bring issue with it,
picked up pencil
nicks a mark on Food Pavilion receipt.
)
)
11.) ever get the feeling you were being watched?
She caught me slipping,
came back in an ackward stumble,
the want to ask what I’ve missed,
her expectant look,
an inward chortle at my coming-to procedure,
should I tell her ‘I can build it?’
“What?”
‘..an antennae, THE antennae,
an antennae like none other’
I feel my persona slip into madcap scientist,
like prewarmed sheets in the thick of winter shit,
like i was built for it
“you can build: an antennae?”
a pause for a bit, let it sink in, yes.
‘that I can do, remarkably easy, actually, to build it’
I believe she’s seen someone she knows,
my arm is grabbed,
affectionate, insistent
& I am led to the back room.
idle hands gesture her punctuation
and her intended path to the perepherial people,
that swirl around us in our progress.
“I can’t believe you ate that sushi”
I admit it was a definite low point.
she leads me by a table of,.. people?
That don’t seem to exist,
They can’t possibly be just place filler.
A gentle tug at my elbow and I remember my place
I think I was galking.
“its best not to stare, you don’t know who lives there.”
empty eyes with an inside undefined,
who do you work for?
she stops and gives me 1000 watts of goose eye
"can i ask what your antennae does?"
I say the first thing that comes in my head.
‘you’re requesting classified information,
here are my demands,
buy me a drink, a tom Collins,
lets sit a bit, at a confortable table and have
episodes of witty banter,
pay my bar tab.
take me home,
bondage scenarios optional.
tea time as an interlude.
then in the tub, afterwards,
I’ll paint upon you an expert soap-sud mustache
and tell you what my antennae does.’
I remember much more about fair Rowan, now.
‘hey, there’s a friend of mine, lets go sit with her.’
I continue to find it interesting, how some among our
species continue to have good luck,
13.) A fortuitous string of concurrent events.
I guess if I happened to be in such a place
I wouldn’t question it ether.
‘this is acceptable, who am I meeting?”
“my friend, Yvonne, the one waving the glass around.”
(“Notice she doesn’t spill?”)
“The other folk- I could give you a good guess..,
But there exists two seats
and chances of a pleasant recline ,
would we not be remiss to pass up such a
fortuitous coincidence? Yvonne will like you ”
shes laying it on thick, a bit
‘you say that like she’s not supposed to.’
I gesture foreward
what does your friend do?’ “yvonne?”
‘yes, your friend Yvonne.’
Her friend’s nae is Yvonne.
“for what?” ‘..what?’
”what does my friend Yvonne do?” ‘exactly my question’.
“do for what?”
‘’for fun’
“she obsesses over icons in human culture."
‘then I will tell her of my shiny red button.’
“she’d like that.
what do you want to do?”
‘for what?’
“about your daydreams of antennaes?”
‘I want to push the button.’
our approach is over.
“Hey Yvonne, this guy just had some weird vision
about building an antennae..”
14.) the inevitable, served cold.
some time has passed
I know what she’s going to say next, unfortunate but true.
I count the instances in the pause before the inevitable.
i do this as fast as I can.
‘what if I told you I have heard that one before?’
I’ve heard her say this, (before,) .
other undisclosed spots, 3 times, I think of it, her saying this,
at just such a moment in conversation.
and now a part of me has all but the obvious answers,
hense this episode will, indeed, be a novelty,
“stop me oh oh oh stop me, stop me
if you think that you’ve heard this one before”
my morrisey is impeccable.
visions of strange elements, peripherial people, unknown & friendly,
some strange artiface that no one speaks of.
My hand extends like it wants to lay on a heathen,
A slight elvis wiggle.
( for some reason I hear the thumbing of a deck of cards.)
‘are you for real?’
these words, I’ve come up with,
I’ve way too much practice
for just this.
my methods, my means(?)
the cadence of my words might have one believing (, temporarily),
that I was wearing a coyboy hat?
A part of me aghast that I supped from the stutter
It seemed that I could pause forever, perusing options
as nothing else was happening.
9) see an enemy
a slathering ,
one must have advanced defenses to survive.
Lost in a tundra, a pause with no answer,
the urge from others to think of one,
But apparently its best to stretch this out as long as possible,
Pull up short just in time, buggs bunny manuvere,
Luckily, just then, this fence
just folded in on itself,
which caused a few among us to flip out, (just) a bit.
“did you just see that?” ‘shhhh’, shut the fuck up hand flutter gestures.
“no, really, that guy,”
Its obvious he feels tactless and obvious,
standing amidst the flow of traffic,
and so will probablay have nothing much to say for the rest of the story.
10.) ‘mister, please stop talking, you sound pathetically insane’
she said this to him, and he is so trodden as to mime
some demeaning guffaw ritual, right then he just did that,
like watching someones gravestone.
Shut him the fuck up though.
the quick and the dead. I think, standard retreat tactics.
Images perk like praire dogs and scatter.
This lad spins like a dead stars, sucking intent away
from that which is necessary to not fuck me in the head. ,
a strange predicament that can’t end well, I think.
But curiosity gets the better(a tendency for this, I’m noticing),
I admit being compelled to follow,
Lets watch this strange episode unfold.
Social camoflage, in approximate earshot.
She’s hot, actually, all stacked up upon herself,
Like multiple versions of this all end with her exactly here.
Follow boy with tag-along action. She’s herding him.
Subtle gestures, bene-geserite tricks. Pulled off to the instant
of when appropriate. A part of me wonders what time clock she’s on.
She looks back at me, knows I’m watching, doesn’t care.
She’s caught up in the inevitable. They’ve arrived at a backroom table.
18.)curiosity and kittens
“well look here, I haven’t seen you in a while”
I have but to utter 2 more sentences,
I pick a name from a hat,
‘rowan, long time, please sit’
two chairs have been, as per expectation,
fortuitously cleared. One down
“can my friend join?”
‘absolutely’ pattern completed, signing off
apparently my permission for this lad to sit
is crucial, I said my lines with authority.
now sit back and watch the show.
EPILOG:
THE INSIDES OF OLD MACHINES, THE FEAR OF THEM
MONKEY-URGE TO PRAY TO UNKNOWN GODS,
TO KEEP THEM FUNCTIONING.
JUST ANOTHER BREATH.
METROPOLICE,
BELLOWS THAT NEED CONSTANT CARE.
& WE’RE HELD OVER FOR AN INFINITE ENGAGEMENT.
THEY MEANT TO MAKE A COG OF ME.
ESCAPE HATCH, JUST ENOUGH ON MY BACK
TO FLAIL INTO THE VOID, AND LAND, SOMEWHERE.
VISIONS OF TREE FROGS, SUCKERS EXTENDED.
I’VE ONLY JUST ACLIMATED,
I FEEL THEM COME FOR ME AGAIN,
A TASTY MORSEL THEY JUST CAN’T LET SLIP PAST
I GUESS.
EMERGENCY PROCEDURES, I’M GOOD AT THIS NOW.
EVERYTHING INTO A SNICKER-SNAK BAG STRAPPED MY BACK
NO CLINKS NO CLANKS, STREAMLINED AND INNOCUOUS.
TANKER BOOTS WITH THE HEELS CUT OFF SO I DON’T THUD.
ALL CLOTHES IN SHADES OF GREY.
THE REQUISITE FLOPPY HAT.
SHE DOESN’T WAKE UP.
THAT’S HOW I KNOW:
THERE ARE NO BEAUTIFUL AND ACKWARD BUMBLINGS,
JUST EFFICIENCY, IT NEEDS TO HAPPEN.
THE UNDENIALABLE KNOWLEDGE THAT SOMETHING IS TO BE SETTLED.
DOWN THE STAIRS, 2 AT A TIME, SLIGHT CROUCH, NO NOISE
STRAFING PATTERN. I’M USED TO BEING HUNTED.
ALL POSSIBLE EXITS BECOME BEACONS, AND THE SCENARIOS
BEGIN TO STACK, A KITTEN PAW DANCE OF WHAT ABOUT TO HAPPEN.
I COULD JUST BE TRIPPING, WAKING UP TO
A HECTIC EXIT PROCEDURE AT FOUR IN THE MORNING.
BUT I WAS TOO FAR IN TO IT BY THE TIME THAT I AWOKE,
TO NOT HELP BUT CONTINUE.
EXIT 1 ACUIRED, AND I’M A NOW GIRL,
ALIVE ONTO CITY STREETS,
EVERYTHING BLISSFULLY ABANDONED
AND EVERYONES IN PLAY.
MY CADENCE KEEPS THE STREET LIGHT POSTS
AND OTHER URBAN FLAK
BETWEEN ME AND THE INEVITABLE PASSER-BY.
AND WHEN ALL IS QUIET, AND THERES NO ONE AROUND, I RUN.
LIGHT STACATO STEPS ON THE BALLS OF MY FEETS.
MY TORSO BARELY BOUNCES.
I HEAR THE SHOE SCUFFS OF SOMEONE AROUND THE BUILDING CORNER
LUMBERING, NON THREAT,
A QUICK LOPING ARC IN THE MIDDLE OF THE INTERSECTION,
AND SPRINT, AS MY FEET HIT THE SIDEWALK ON THE OTHER SIDE.
2 BLOCKS DOWN, I BEGIN TO RELAX.
I DON’T KNOW WHERE I AM,
VAGUE IMAGES OF A CONFORTABLE TAXI RIDE,
DID I NOT ONCE LOOK OUT THE WINDOW?
TRAFFIC HAS PICKED UP. I SLOW, FIGHT MY LUNGS NEED FOR AIR,
AND FEEL MY SKIN BEGIN TO COOL.
(‘NEVER LET THEM SEE THAT YOU’VE BEEN RUNNING!’)
dukes all night café, teamsters huddled in booths, eggs and coffee.
Mmm coffee. A random human sampling, a payphone, and a sense of location.
I sit, recline, caffeine laden with cream and sugar, and wait for sunrise.
‘
