Wednesday, October 27, 2010
automatic writing 2
How do I do this without implicating myself, revealing too much? Much of what i know of theory is that everything is about me, and in my dreams, therefore, you are I. I want to tell you, I feel I should, warn you about a dream I just woke up from. From what I can remember, there was a dark alley, and we were being pursued by a menacing figure. Figuring out the chronology, forcing my own logic onto the dream scenes is wrong, I suppose. Suppose, however, I tell it this way: we hid in the bushes, and then watched a musical. Music, almost, that I still hear humming in my pillows. Low, slow, now bouncing against bare motel walls, now entwined with this unexpected Virginia rain. Rain fell on us as we squeezed into the impossible space between the ground and the thick thorny plants. Plant, skin, breath, pebble, knee, forearm, shoulder, stone, bone, neck, thorn, chest, nape, branch, elbow, collateral ligament, that soft inside edge. Edging closer, heavy steps approaching, and then it's the musical, again, a bare stage, you and I, or, fine, I and I, singing, pressed together, don't ask me how.
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