CONTENTS (IV.) Coming back to linear patterns// Horsey ride with ridiculous girl// waking background Safe blue Step into chords Hole punch (X.)Paper dream Hole punch/ER SEEDS IN A BASKET COTTON CLOTH CLOUDS ::TIME LAPSE VIDEO WOVEN BASKET BARN (V.) DEATH ON MANDELBROT CORNER, CLOWN TEETH APARTMENTS, THE TEACUP INFINITY MAIL BOX FACE KID FINDS::TEETH::TILT::LOCATIONS :
( IV.)
I SEE LASER HANDS IN FRONT OF WHAT USED TO BE ME. THEY ARE SIFTING THROUGH DOLLAR BILLS AND THE WEIGHT ON MY MIDDLE BACK FORCING ME TO FLEX. SUDDENLY, SOUND IS HEARD, IT FILTERS THROUGH COCOONS INTO MY EARS, A STAMPEDE RUMBLES MILES AWAY, AND I SPIT. SCREECHING DRAWS DIRECTIONAL TO A FURRY, PINK BEAR LEGGING. SILVER CHAPS BENT AROUND MY SIDE, SHARP PAIN CLIMBS MY NECK. I SPIT AGAIN. CLUTCHING BIG WADS OF DOLLAR BILLS, FLUNG BACKWARDS AND PULLED INTO AN UPRIGHT POSITION WHILE SHOWN ROPE, LONG KNOTTED, ONCE IN SILVER, ONCE IN BLACK, THREADED TWICE.
TRY TO STAND, FOLLOWED BY CACKLING WOODS. STICKER BUSH OF HANDS. SHE TURNS ME TO FACE HER, DEEP, BENEATH THE FUR OF THIS BRIGHT PINK BEAR SUIT SHE'S GOT ON. NOTHING MOVES, A FLICKER OF SILVER GLOSS LIPSTICK SHE WEARS OVER HER IMPERFECT, WHITE TEETH; A CLEFT OF SEDUCING SILVER LIPS.
BLACK AND SILVER ROPE TIED AROUND PARTS OF HER, INSIDE OF MY PINK BEAR SUIT. WITH MICROSCOPIC TOOLS, I MIGHT SEE A PACK OF CIRCUITRY,A CEILING OF WIRES, A FLOOR OF CONFUSING VISIONS SPRAYED THROUGH TABLE CLOTH, DOILY; I MAY SEE RED GLASS WITHIN A WALL, RED STAINED GLASS. FLIGHT PLANS. :: ___________________
HER MAKE UP IS DONE NICE TONIGHT, A MERE RED LINE OVER TWO WHITE DOLL EYES. FILTERS ARE IMPORTANT, BLANKETS AND PAINT (…) NON AFFILIATES, JOINT MARKETING, SCHIZOPHRENIA. SHE'S GOT ME BY THE MIND JUST FOUND IN A CARD – I GIVE HER GINKGO FROM MY SKIN - MEDICATIONS WHILE SHE JUMPS BACK ONTO MY WAIST FOR INSTANCE AND KICKS MY RIBS DESCRIBED ABOVE. “EVERYTHING IS WRONG, EVERYTHING IS WRONG. BUT I LOVE YOU. BUT I LOVE YOU.” A COUNTRY SONG SPINS ON A VICTROLA. A ROPE ATTACHED TO MY COCK, WITH YOUR LIFE, YOU NEED, JUST GO FOR IT. AND THE LITTLE ONE (YOUR OPT OUT CHOICE) COVERED IN THE BEAR COSTUME KICKS ABA MACHINE DOWN THE MATTRESS, THE CHAPS – THE COUNTEY SONG SPINS. MY LIFE MUZZLE BECOME TOO DRY OVER MY SHOULDERS, SINCE I CAN'T MOVE, TOO MOIST, AND FLAVOR GROWN THIGHS ORGANIZED BY REGION RELISH AROUND THE BACK OF MY HEAD SHATTER. HIGH QUALITY, HEAVY WEIGHT STOCK PAPER DOTS ARE CUT BRILLIANT FROM THE FIFTH DIMENSION SHEETS, LANDING EDGES ON A POSTCARD PHOTO OF ACID CASTLES, UNTIL COMPLETELY COVERED IN MACHINES
\\\ [THE WINTER EATS RED DOTS FROM THE INSTALLATION GUIDE, CUT INTO HILLS BEHIND THE GRAZING BEASTS. [THE SKY IS CUT OUT UNTIL THEY TAKE ANYONE, INCLUDING THEY CIRCLES. THEY CUT AWAY THE ROCKS.] MEDICINE WOMAN. HOLE PUNCHED, PAPER DOTS GUIDE AND PUNCH AND STILETTO HOLES AND ANGEL HAIR CENTURY. CUT. “SMACK!” I HIT MY CHIN ACROSS THE DREAM OF A MONKEY BAR, MY NECK PUSHES MY EYES INTO THE SKY. IT'S GREEN BEFORE LIGHT OF COUNTLESS, FUZZY EDGES.
______________________________________________
(X.)
PINK, RABBIT-SHAPED COLLAPSIBLE BALLOON FLOATS ABOVE GROUND., A CLOUD PASSIVELY PINK , ALSO TOY HAMMER BALLOONS IN THE BREEZE, KID STARS FLIMSY IN THE COLLAPSIBLE GUST OF WIND. WORRY DOLLARS ARE RELAXED IN THE CELLS AND THUNDER PEELS OUT FROM BEHIND A SHATTERED PILE OF OPTICAL ILLUSIONS - DIAGONAL FEED LINES OF HELIUM HORIZONTALLY SHADOW CREATED GLASS. A LAVENDER FLOAT OF SYMBOLS IN A LEAF OF HEATED PUPIL, THE BOILED WATER PASSING CHAMOMILE TEA FLOWERS THE LEAVES UNFOLD IN THE GLARE OF SUNLIGHT, AS I WATCH THROUGH THE TEACUPS, I SEE LEAF, PATHWAYS IN THE LEAF LEAD ME OUT IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS.
IF THAT APARTMENT COMPLEX OF TEETH BECAME A ROW OF INFINITE CELLULAR TEACUPS THEY WILL NEVER KNOW.THEY’LL TEACH EACH OTHER! I HEAR THIS LOOPING SOMEWHERE IN THE LANDSCAPE, FEELS INFINITE,VAST IN A CAKE SUIT– GHASTLY DESSERT, THE MIDDLE OF THE DESSERT HAS INGESTED ME, INTO AN OLD, ELECTRONICS WAREHOUSE, TURNED ME INSTALLATION ART OUT OF PINK CAKE FROSTING, THEN THEY DRESS ME UP IN TEA CUPS AND DOILY'S, WHERE LAVENDER LINES THE SURFACE OF THE DENSE, ORANGE EARTH. I BECOME INFINITE,IN VAST LOVE, THE MOST PURE INSTALLATION OF INFINITE LOVE.
THE LAST BLISTER OF THOUGHT CALLING HOME, VIA CELL SOCKS AND SHOES. I SIT IN A CELL OF LAB EQUIPMENT, ON CHAINS, HANGING BY MY BROKEN ROOTS, DRYING UP. A PEACEFUL SMILE; LARGE AND GENTLE AS A CLOTH SUN,PASSING OVER THE STRAWBERRY DESSERT FLOOR. A SMILE LINGERS,FUSES, CURLS WITH ME, A THREADING OF VINEYARD BY SOME KIND OF STRONG GRASP. A PART OF ME FALLS,DRIFTS IN A FEATHER, TO THE FLOOR OF THE BARN, INTO THE HAY. ________
( V. ) “BUNNY SUIT! WHERE ARE YOU GOING? DAMN IT!”
I TURN. I TURN INTO GRASS. I TURN. I LOOK FROM INSIDE, I TURN. I TURN INTO MAIL. I AM SHOUTING AT MY PINK SHORTCAKE SUIT RUNNING INTO EATABLE FOG. BEHIND THE NOW, SITTING DOWN TO SET HIS HAT WHERE I WAS STANDING ARE GIANT ARMFULS OF EATABLE FOG BETWEEN THE UNIVERSE UNDERNEATH.
TIME/LAUGH IF ONLY IT COULD MOVE/FACE. I WATCH AS THE PINK SUIT PULLS WAX HAIR OUT OF THE COSTUME, AND THEN YELLOW STREAKS PASS MY EYES, RUNNING, RUNNERS. FIGURE EIGHTS ON A RUN THROUGH THE YELLOW WOODS. I AM MAIL.
“MOM!" ON THE TOES OF 5HE PINK WUIT, A DREAM OF A VHS BOY, A VIDEO TAPE YELLING. (SUBTITLES READ HE IS GOING IN THE BARN, HE’LL BE BACK IN AN HOUR FOR DINNER AND MOM READS OKAY.) THE YOUNG VHS TAPE PLAYS THE BUNNY SUIT RUNNING PAST ME. I AM MAIL IN A MAIL BOX. THE SUIT IS STITCHING ALONG THE DIRT ROAD TO THE WOOD SHED, WARPED SKY GETS TANGLED INTO THE SUITS PINK WAKE.
(I FEEL THE MAIL BOX OPEN
THE RUSTED HINGE
SLAMS CLOSED.
I AM THE STACK OF LETTERS IN HIS BUNNY MITS. PINK BUNNY SHORTCAKE POURS ALL OVER THE BEND IN THE ROAD. I SEE THE SUIT FROM INSIDE OF HIS HANDS. THE MITS LIFT A BARBED WIRE FENCE, LIFT ME, AND THE SUIT CLIMBS THROUGH THE OPENING, CATCHING PINK FUZZ ON BARBED WIRE.
DRIPPING FROSTING OFF THE SHOULDER-BLADES OF THE SUIT TO MY ENVELOPE TONGUE, I TASTE A LITTLE PIECE.
HAY STRETCHED IN YEARS OF DOLLAR, FIVE-DOLLAR, TWENTY FIVE DOLLAR, AND FIFTY DOLLAR TREES.
THERE, BUNNY CROSSES THE GIANT BLEACHED SUN, A PINK BLUR, JUMPING THROUGH FORGET-ME NOTES, A SMOTHERED BLUR OF PINK PAINTINGS ACROSS THE HANDWRITTEN LETTERS OF THOSE FORGOTTEN. THE SUIT, AND EVERY SINGLE WILLOW TREE IS BECOMING A FRACTAL; A RIGHT ANGLE VIEW FROM THE MAIL TOSSED INTO THE BRANCHES CONNECTS ME: SINGING, WALTZING, DEEP PINK, FRACTAL. THE FARM EDGE IS ENTERING PROPERTY FANGS, SITTING MOIST ON HIS MOTHERS HOUSE, IN MY BUNNY SUIT.
REMOTE, I AM WAITING AT THE STAGE OF A MANDELBROT, ZOOMED ALWAYS TO THE SAME POSITION, IN THE WARPED PINK OF THE BUNNY, AND THE WILLOW BRANCHES LIKE MARBLED PAPERWORK.
HIDDEN IN REPEATED SHAPES OF FIBER, HANGING NEAR THE NOTCHES OF A FEW HUNDRED LADDERS, ALL DIFFERENT TYPES OF LADDERS SUBMERGED IN HAY BALE AFTER HAY BALE, A RUSTED EDGE OF BARBED WIRE POKES THROUGH, AND THE GUST OF THE BUNNY SUIT SPIRALING WILLOW SENDS ME, AND ALL THE MAIL INTO THE LOFT.
AS THE BUNNY PRESSES UP THE LADDER, LETTERS FALL THROUGH THE RUNGS, SOME OF MY MIND. I AM FRUSTRATED WITH THIS SUIT. THIS BUNNY JUST WON'T HEAR THE MUSIC.
I'M HISTORYS HIDIN' SPOT, HIS PLAY HOUSE; AND THE LONG SHADOWS TRAIL, TRACK, SEEK, HUNT, PURSUE, REACHING FOR THE PINK NECK, ALL FUZZY, AND CAUGHT WITH STICKS, AND HAY, DIRTYIN' UP THE DAMN SUIT!
::
WHISPERS ARE BUILT UP OUT OF A DISTINCT GRIM I HAD PLANNED FOR, THE SHAKING HAY FROM THE RUNGS WHILE THE BUNNY ASCENDS, I SEE THE EARS ALL MARBLED PAPER IN A WILLOW OF THE MANDELBROT CORNER. THESE ARE SOME INDENTATIONS ON THE STAGE, THESE ARE ALL VERY INEVITABLY REPEATED SHAPES I SEE LYING ON THE FLOOR NEXT TO ME.
THERE, I SIT IN THE MANDELBROT: A PILE OF SCYTHES, CODES, A WOOD SAW, BLOOD, A SET OF STEAK KNIVES. MY HEAD ACHES. EYES ENTER MY HIDDEN PLACE, THROUGH THE PILE OF SCYTHES, LAYERS OF MUTATION, BLOOD. HAY STICKS TO THE KNIVES IN LITTLE CLUMPS. KNIVES LUNGING, VAULTED FROM THE MANDELBROT, IN THE SHORTCAKE LOOK ON THE BUNNY MASK. I SMELL THE SUIT AS TOOLS FOLLOW TO THE DUST OF THE WOOD FLOORING STRAWBERRIES FLYING TO THE WILLOW, AND BACK. FOR A MOMENT, THERE IS A COAT OF PAINT . WHITE WARPED TO RED, MARBLED PAPERWORK BARN IN YELLOW BLANKETS. THE PINK SUIT AND I START WRESTLING A VHS VIDEO, YOUNG BOY LAUGHING AT THE SCREEN., INCLUDING BLACK FINGERS THAT CROSS THE BACKGROUND.
WHITE AND MARBLED RED, WHITE AND MARBLED RED, WHITE AND MARBLED RED (…) I WALK OUT OF THE VHS VIDEO, THE WAX MELTS THE SCREEN, ( THE TV GOES OUT) AND PUT ON THE SIDEWALK NEXT TO A FEDORA HAT. I ENTER SOME ANIMAL THROUGH THE BACK OF HIS HEAD, ABSORBING MY MEMORY INTO THEIRS.
PAINTED CLOCKS SURROUND ME, ARMFULS OF 8×4 CANVASES WRAP A ROOM ( LIKE BLANKETS,) MOVING THE OLD DAYS BACK, UNTIL THE OLD DAYS ARE CUT OUTS AND CLIPPINGS FROM THE NEWSPAPER, AND THE NEWSPAPER COVERS THE WALL OF THE ROOM LIKE WALLPAPERS . I'M LIKE A KID HANGING POSTERS ALL OVER MY ROOM. AND I'VE GOT MY CUTE BUNNY SUIT ON, AND HE SAID HE LIKES WHAT I'VE DONE HERES.
FAST COMPUTERIZED TANGLES MAKES IT LIKE THE SUIT STANDS BEHIND ME AGAIN. THE BUNNY KEEPS CHANGING COLORS. THE SUIT. SWITCHING, WHITE AND RED, , WHITE AND RED, SWITCHING WHITE AND RED, SWITCHING, THE SUIT KEEPS SWITCHING, WHITE AND RED! WHITE AND RED! SWITCHING WHITE AND RED SWITCHING WHITE AND RED WHITE AND RED
I PUT THE SUIT BACK ON. “WHAT ARE YOU?" I CRY MINIATURE FOG, I CHOKE ON WORDS.
A LIFT UNBUCKLES BY THE POSTERED UP WALL, TWELVE HANDS PULL PIECES OF MY EXAMINING ROOM CLOSER. IN THE EXAMINING ROOM, I CAN GET TO MY TOOLS, AND WITH THESE TOOLS I CAN GET TO THE NITTY GRITTY. THE FINGERS OF A MORE GENTLE HAND GATHER WHITE FOG ACROSS THE WALLPAPER AND DOWN, INTO A GLASS JAR. THESE WHITE FOGS ARE THE LEFT OVER PAINTS FROM A VARIETY OF PAST EVENTS IN MY SUIT, A GENEROUS HISTORICALLY BASED DATA, CREATED FOR THE PURPOSES OF MEDIATING A COSTUME, AND ITS OWNER.
MY NAKED STAFF ENTER, PREPARING A CLOSURE IN THE WALLS, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE PROBLEM. ALL THE OTHER AREAS HAVE HEALED EXCEPT FOR ONE PLACE WHERE THE WALL SEEMS THICK., I UNDRESS, THINKING THIS MAY BE THE ISSUE, AND STAGGER THROUGH THE SUDDENLY THICK ROOM. SIFTING SAND OUT OF THE PARTICLES IN THE AIR, THE AIR IS TOO THICK AND ALL OF US ON STAFF TAKE OUT OUR SCUBA GEAR AS IT DAWNS ON ME – THIS IS LEXINGTON – HER WRITING ON A FELT. SHE HAD CRIED ALL OF THAT SNOW.
WHITE LIGHTS IN THE SCUBA GEAR COURSE THROUGH THE NIGHTMARE, ALL OF THE SAND GROWS TO THE SIZE OF SNOW BALLS, AND THE STAFF TAKES DOWN THE MASKS. "THIS IS A THREE COURSE MEAL OF COTTON, GIRLS!" OLD, WHITE PAINT, COTTON, SNOW, AND SCRAPS OF PAPER APPLY TO OUR LEGS. LITTLE MARRIENETTE PUPPETS SIGN AT THE DOTTED LINES OF THE APPLICATIONS. "COTTON EXPOSURE FOR THE ANALYSIS CREW." THE PUPPETS SAY.
AN APARTMENT COMPLEX THAT THE STAFF AND I BUILD FROM A COLLECTION OF SHARK TEETH LOADS ON A CORNER COMPUTER AND WE SELECT THE COLOR MINT FOR THE PAINT, AND INTO THE OFFICE, LARGER IN IMAGE, THE APARTMENT COMPLEX IS FILLED WITH LOVE, AND STARS IN THE FORM OF WATER. BOATS IN THE DISTANCE ARE FOR THE STAFF TO LOUNGE ON.
A COTTONWOOD OFFICE BUILDING IS THE SHIP I CHOOSE. I'VE PUT ON A NEW SUIT MADE OF WINDOWS I FOUND IN THE TOWN CENTER. I MADE IT LOOK LIKE A SMILE ON ME, AND MY NAKED STAFF WALK THROUGH THE OFFICE, TRYING ON PARTS OF THE ROOM: CHAIRS, TABLES, ITS DOING ITS JOB. FINALLY A SENSE OF CALM IS BEFORE ME, OLYMPIA WATCHES AS I EAT. SHE IS DRESSED IN A WAITRESSES OUTFIT SHE HAND STITCHED THE FIRST YEAR WE WERE HERE. I GOBBLE DOWN A HANDFUL OF VEGETABLES DIPPED IN MUSHROOM TEA. I AM CAREFUL AND SWIFT. STILL, SITTING REAL STILL. THE LIGHTS ARE DIM, THE WAY I LIKE THEM. EVERYTHING IS CALMING DOWN. AT LEAST I’M HERE, INSIDE, SITTING IN MY HOUSE I'VE BEEN WORKING ON . SITTING IN AN EFFORT.
THE LUNAR ECLIPSE WE ALL WORKED ON IS BEING VIEWED THROUGH A WATERFALL. CANTEENS OF MY FAVORITE TEA ARE BEING PASSED FROM SUB STATION TO SUBSTATION, ON A LONG ROBOTIC ARM THAT THE CIRCUIT BOARD PROGRAMS SMOOTHER, SO THAT TIME CAN FALL ASLEEP IN ITS HANDSOME ROWS, LAID BACK IN A COMPLEX STAR BUBBLE BATH OF OCEANIC BLISS.
CLOWN FISH SWIM IN THE GAPS OF THE SHARK TOOTH APARTMENTS -AT LEAST THIRTEEN HUNDRED YEARS OF MARRIAGE. AND SHE’S WATCHING ME HAND A FULL POUND OF KALE INTO MY SHOVEL; INTO MY MOUTH, INTO MY STOMACH. HER EYES WATCH MY STOMACH TWITCH AS I INGEST THE MUSHROOMS. OLYMPIA MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A GOOD MANAGER, SHE IS ALWAYS SO VERY CAREFUL, AND DELICATE WITH HER GLANCES.
THE WAX, THAT HAD MELTED OFF THE TELEVISION SET EARLIER, IS BEING SCRAPED UP AND USED FOR A BIG FIRE THE RABBITS WORK HARD TO START. THEY HAVE DECIDED TO STAY WITH THOSE OCCUPYING SCHOOL BOYS TOWN: TOWN CENTER. THEY BRUSH EACH OTHERS HAIR, AND THE NURSES WANDER TO A HAIR OF THE MAN SCREAMING AT THE WALLS. HIS BREATH SEEMS TO RUIN THE WALLPAPER, AND THEY ARE TRYING TO HAND HIM SOME TEA. SWOLLEN IN HIS HAIR ARE THE FROZEN MEMORIES HE INSISTS ON HOLDING. HE COWERS TO THE BACK OF MY MIND, AND FOLDS UP, IN CASE OF AN ISSUE. THE NURSES WANDER AROUND THE HOUSES, HANDING OUT TEA.
THE TEACUP OF INFINITY GENERATES IN MY FRAME OF REFERENCE AS I DRIFT IN THE STEAM OF THE TEA. FROZEN IN A LIE OF GLASS FOR A MOMENT, FINAL CLARITY EMERGES. “COMPLEX: THESE CLOWN FISH, SWIMMING IN THE CAVITY OF THE APARTMENTS.” I SAY. OLYMPIA IS A HALF FILTERED GENERATION – ONE OF MY REFERENCES IS THIS: CRYSTAL CUBE ROTATION DEVICE STIRRING THE CREAM TEACUP IN EATABLE LAVENDER.
OLYMPIA. CAN YOU HEAR ME?
CRYSTAL CUBE ROTATION DEVICE STIRS THE CREAM TEACUP IN EATABLE TEA. TEA. THIS CLEAR GLASS BOX, ALL THE CUPS, ROW AFTER ROW AND THEN ME ON THE CORNER, PERCHED IN A MANDELBROT, A FRACTAL, SURROUNDED BY THEM, LAVENDER SUBMERGED, HORIZON LINES OF AN EIGHT SIDED SCOPE DRIFTING OVER, LEFT, RIGHT, SLOW, TEACUP TIPPED ONTO ONE-DOLLAR IDEA WITHIN AMBIGUOUS ABSORPTION. VISUAL LAVENDER POURS OVER MY SKIN, SOAKS THE CLOTH OF THE PINK SUIT, TURNS IT, TURNS MY SKIN TO RICE PAPER AND MELTS AWAY INTO ONE OF THE CUPS.
OLYMPIA. I'M SCARED. OLYMPIA.
MY VISION IS IN LIQUID. FLOATING UNDER THE BUBBLING WATERS OF THE FLOWING TEA. A KALEIDOSCOPE MY FATHER BROUGHT ME BACK COMES INTO MY HAND. I REGISTER THE PURE JOY OF IT. THE LIGHTS ENTERING ALL OF THE DARKEST ROOMS WE BUILT FOR TOWN CENTER ADJUST IN MY NODULES.
OLYMPIA, WHY. WHY DID WE HELP THEM BUILD IT?
EYES NOTICE A FOREST IN THE DISTANCE, TREE LINES SWISHING IN A SERIES OF MOVEMENTS OVER UPSIDE DOWN , WET TEA MACHINE.THE LIQUID WARMS PARTS OF MY GENERATED BODY TO, THEN REFURBISH A PAIR OF ARMS, LEGS AND A HUMAN HEART FOR ME. THE BLOOD STARTS PUMPING THROUGH GLASS VALVES INSIDE OF THE TEA MACHINE. MY EYES FINALLY FLOAT UP TO THE TOP OF ONE TEACUP AND LOOK AROUND IN THE INTRICATE GLASS TUBE RUNNING THIS WAY AND THAT, PUMPING STEADY WITH BLOOD.
SOCIALLY, I FEEL COLD, AND DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SPEAK WITH OLYMPIA ANYLONGER. I AM RECOVERED IN TEA AND AM FEELING SLEEPY. THE SLEEP THAT I FEEL IS ALL NEW. THE SLEEP COMES RINSING OVER ME IN A KIND OF MACHINE BATH, AND ALL OF THE TALLEST GLASS WALLS MELT INTO A CHINA CUP.
THIS FEELING IS NOT NEW, I HAVE BEEN A HEROIC PILOT ON THIS CRAFT FOR OVER TWO MONTHS, AND HAVE WATCHED ALL OF THE BEST FILMS ON THIS EXPERIANCE, DRUG RELATED OR NOT. SO, WHEN AN EYE ROLLS THROUGH PIECES OF SLICED GREEN ONION, AND THEN EYES PILE WITH THE GRACIOUS NOTCH OF A CONCRETE HOLE, I CAN FIND REST IN PEACE, KNOWING WELL THIS IS ONLY THE MUSHROOMS.
IT MUST BE EMBARRASSING FOR OLYMPIA, THAT CRAZED LOOK ON MY FACE POKING OUT OF THE WINDOW FRAMES I MADE AS MY COSTUME, BUT I THINK I AM SAFE IN HER COMPANY. SHE IS THE GRACIOUS TYPE, PROBABLY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, AND I DON'T THINK SHE WILL JUDGE ME TOO HARSHLY FOR THAT INCREDIBLY BUSY LOOK IN MY EYES.
A PLATE OF VALENTINE'S DAY CANDY IS PLACED BEFORE ME. I PICK ONE OUT AND THANK OLYMPIA. A WHITE ONE: ALWAYS FOREVER
A PINK ONE: YOU BET A WHITE ONE: DANCE WITH ME A GREEN ONE: MARRY ME TODAY I THINK OF SOMEONE ELSE,
AN ORANGE ONE: GET REAL
I THINK OF THEM AGAIN, SOMEONE WHO ISN'T OLYMPIA. A MASHED UP MISTAKE YELLOW ONE: DREAM TEAM
A PINK ONE THAT THE MACHINE CHEWED UP MAKING IT, LIKE A MOUSE CHEWED IT. LOVE OF MY LIFE I CHEW THE DREAM TEAM ONE AND SEE A GREEN ONE THAT SAYS MISS YOU. I PUT THAT ONE IN MY MOUTH AND SUCKER ON IT. OLYMPIA LEAVES ME SOME WATER WITH A LEMON IN IT, AND WANDERS AWAY, TO GET THE LATEST NEWS ABOUT MY EXPERIENCE. SHE COMES BACK AND HANDS ME A PRINT OUT WHICH I BEGIN READING, SUCKLING DOWN THE CANDY'S SLOWLY.
ISAAC HERING / PRINT OUT OF COLLECTED DATA FOR PSILOCYBIN MUSHROOMS/ STAFF COPY DATED: 2015, TIME 7:55P.M. _____________________ LIQUID WATER THAT MAKES UP THE BULK OF A SOUP, LIQUID IRIS, RETINAL BLOOD VESSELS, MACAULAY, LENS IN THE SOUP; THE WARM BROTH. (---------THE SAME TIME . -----) THE EYES ARE A PLACE TO COME CLOSER AND JOURNEY THE FOREST IN SOME KIND OF VISUALIZED MAP. THE GLASS CELL BEFORE THE MINT TEACUP IN THE FOREGROUND IS THEN LEAKED OUT THROUGH DIAMOND FILTERS – THE MACHINE TILTS— IT TILT 7 TIMES, THE GLASS CELL FILTERS OUT OF AN OUTDOOR POOL AND — : IN THE CRACKED PAVEMENT, THE LIQUID, YOUR EYES, MY EYES, YOUR EYES, MY EYES, YOUR EYES, MY EYES, YOUR EYES, MY EYES – I AM POURED LIKE PAVEMENT INTO ONE WHOLE ROW OF TEACUPS, OVER-FLOWING, VISUALLY THIS IS A GREAT TIME . THE LEFT HAND GRABS FROM SOMEWHERE IN THE BODY. THE EYES LINK UP, BACK TO THE BODY, AND YOU ARE BACK - FROM A WHOLE ROW OF LOCATIONS: PEERING A CEILING IN THE OFFICE. ____________________ REFERENCE TERMS FOR ISAAC HERING FRACTAL: A FRACTAL IS A NATURAL PHENOMENON OR A MATHEMATICAL SET THAT EXHIBITS A REPEATING PATTERN THAT DISPLAYS AT EVERY SCALE. IF THE REPLICATION IS EXACTLY THE SAME AT EVERY SCALE, IT IS CALLED A SELF-SIMILAR PATTERN. EN.WIKIPEDIA.ORG/WIKI/FRACTAL A FRACTAL IS A NEVER-ENDING PATTERN. FRACTALS ARE INFINITELY COMPLEX PATTERNS THAT ARE SELF-SIMILAR ACROSS DIFFERENT SCALES. THEY ARE CREATED BY REPEATING A SIMPLE PROCESS OVER AND OVER IN AN ONGOING FEEDBACK LOOP. FRACTALFOUNDATION.ORG/RESOURCES/WHAT-ARE-FRACTALS
( IV.)
I SEE LASER HANDS IN FRONT OF WHAT USED TO BE ME. THEY ARE SIFTING THROUGH DOLLAR BILLS AND THE WEIGHT ON MY MIDDLE BACK FORCING ME TO FLEX. SUDDENLY, SOUND IS HEARD, IT FILTERS THROUGH COCOONS INTO MY EARS, A STAMPEDE RUMBLES MILES AWAY, AND I SPIT. SCREECHING DRAWS DIRECTIONAL TO A FURRY, PINK BEAR LEGGING. SILVER CHAPS BENT AROUND MY SIDE, SHARP PAIN CLIMBS MY NECK. I SPIT AGAIN. CLUTCHING BIG WADS OF DOLLAR BILLS, FLUNG BACKWARDS AND PULLED INTO AN UPRIGHT POSITION WHILE SHOWN ROPE, LONG KNOTTED, ONCE IN SILVER, ONCE IN BLACK, THREADED TWICE.
TRY TO STAND, FOLLOWED BY CACKLING WOODS. STICKER BUSH OF HANDS. SHE TURNS ME TO FACE HER, DEEP, BENEATH THE FUR OF THIS BRIGHT PINK BEAR SUIT SHE'S GOT ON. NOTHING MOVES, A FLICKER OF SILVER GLOSS LIPSTICK SHE WEARS OVER HER IMPERFECT, WHITE TEETH; A CLEFT OF SEDUCING SILVER LIPS.
BLACK AND SILVER ROPE TIED AROUND PARTS OF HER, INSIDE OF MY PINK BEAR SUIT. WITH MICROSCOPIC TOOLS, I MIGHT SEE A PACK OF CIRCUITRY,A CEILING OF WIRES, A FLOOR OF CONFUSING VISIONS SPRAYED THROUGH TABLE CLOTH, DOILY; I MAY SEE RED GLASS WITHIN A WALL, RED STAINED GLASS. FLIGHT PLANS. :: ___________________
HER MAKE UP IS DONE NICE TONIGHT, A MERE RED LINE OVER TWO WHITE DOLL EYES. FILTERS ARE IMPORTANT, BLANKETS AND PAINT (…) NON AFFILIATES, JOINT MARKETING, SCHIZOPHRENIA. SHE'S GOT ME BY THE MIND JUST FOUND IN A CARD – I GIVE HER GINKGO FROM MY SKIN - MEDICATIONS WHILE SHE JUMPS BACK ONTO MY WAIST FOR INSTANCE AND KICKS MY RIBS DESCRIBED ABOVE. “EVERYTHING IS WRONG, EVERYTHING IS WRONG. BUT I LOVE YOU. BUT I LOVE YOU.” A COUNTRY SONG SPINS ON A VICTROLA. A ROPE ATTACHED TO MY COCK, WITH YOUR LIFE, YOU NEED, JUST GO FOR IT. AND THE LITTLE ONE (YOUR OPT OUT CHOICE) COVERED IN THE BEAR COSTUME KICKS ABA MACHINE DOWN THE MATTRESS, THE CHAPS – THE COUNTEY SONG SPINS. MY LIFE MUZZLE BECOME TOO DRY OVER MY SHOULDERS, SINCE I CAN'T MOVE, TOO MOIST, AND FLAVOR GROWN THIGHS ORGANIZED BY REGION RELISH AROUND THE BACK OF MY HEAD SHATTER. HIGH QUALITY, HEAVY WEIGHT STOCK PAPER DOTS ARE CUT BRILLIANT FROM THE FIFTH DIMENSION SHEETS, LANDING EDGES ON A POSTCARD PHOTO OF ACID CASTLES, UNTIL COMPLETELY COVERED IN MACHINES
\\\ [THE WINTER EATS RED DOTS FROM THE INSTALLATION GUIDE, CUT INTO HILLS BEHIND THE GRAZING BEASTS. [THE SKY IS CUT OUT UNTIL THEY TAKE ANYONE, INCLUDING THEY CIRCLES. THEY CUT AWAY THE ROCKS.] MEDICINE WOMAN. HOLE PUNCHED, PAPER DOTS GUIDE AND PUNCH AND STILETTO HOLES AND ANGEL HAIR CENTURY. CUT. “SMACK!” I HIT MY CHIN ACROSS THE DREAM OF A MONKEY BAR, MY NECK PUSHES MY EYES INTO THE SKY. IT'S GREEN BEFORE LIGHT OF COUNTLESS, FUZZY EDGES.
______________________________________________
(X.)
PINK, RABBIT-SHAPED COLLAPSIBLE BALLOON FLOATS ABOVE GROUND., A CLOUD PASSIVELY PINK , ALSO TOY HAMMER BALLOONS IN THE BREEZE, KID STARS FLIMSY IN THE COLLAPSIBLE GUST OF WIND. WORRY DOLLARS ARE RELAXED IN THE CELLS AND THUNDER PEELS OUT FROM BEHIND A SHATTERED PILE OF OPTICAL ILLUSIONS - DIAGONAL FEED LINES OF HELIUM HORIZONTALLY SHADOW CREATED GLASS. A LAVENDER FLOAT OF SYMBOLS IN A LEAF OF HEATED PUPIL, THE BOILED WATER PASSING CHAMOMILE TEA FLOWERS THE LEAVES UNFOLD IN THE GLARE OF SUNLIGHT, AS I WATCH THROUGH THE TEACUPS, I SEE LEAF, PATHWAYS IN THE LEAF LEAD ME OUT IN DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS.
IF THAT APARTMENT COMPLEX OF TEETH BECAME A ROW OF INFINITE CELLULAR TEACUPS THEY WILL NEVER KNOW.THEY’LL TEACH EACH OTHER! I HEAR THIS LOOPING SOMEWHERE IN THE LANDSCAPE, FEELS INFINITE,VAST IN A CAKE SUIT– GHASTLY DESSERT, THE MIDDLE OF THE DESSERT HAS INGESTED ME, INTO AN OLD, ELECTRONICS WAREHOUSE, TURNED ME INSTALLATION ART OUT OF PINK CAKE FROSTING, THEN THEY DRESS ME UP IN TEA CUPS AND DOILY'S, WHERE LAVENDER LINES THE SURFACE OF THE DENSE, ORANGE EARTH. I BECOME INFINITE,IN VAST LOVE, THE MOST PURE INSTALLATION OF INFINITE LOVE.
THE LAST BLISTER OF THOUGHT CALLING HOME, VIA CELL SOCKS AND SHOES. I SIT IN A CELL OF LAB EQUIPMENT, ON CHAINS, HANGING BY MY BROKEN ROOTS, DRYING UP. A PEACEFUL SMILE; LARGE AND GENTLE AS A CLOTH SUN,PASSING OVER THE STRAWBERRY DESSERT FLOOR. A SMILE LINGERS,FUSES, CURLS WITH ME, A THREADING OF VINEYARD BY SOME KIND OF STRONG GRASP. A PART OF ME FALLS,DRIFTS IN A FEATHER, TO THE FLOOR OF THE BARN, INTO THE HAY. ________
( V. ) “BUNNY SUIT! WHERE ARE YOU GOING? DAMN IT!”
I TURN. I TURN INTO GRASS. I TURN. I LOOK FROM INSIDE, I TURN. I TURN INTO MAIL. I AM SHOUTING AT MY PINK SHORTCAKE SUIT RUNNING INTO EATABLE FOG. BEHIND THE NOW, SITTING DOWN TO SET HIS HAT WHERE I WAS STANDING ARE GIANT ARMFULS OF EATABLE FOG BETWEEN THE UNIVERSE UNDERNEATH.
TIME/LAUGH IF ONLY IT COULD MOVE/FACE. I WATCH AS THE PINK SUIT PULLS WAX HAIR OUT OF THE COSTUME, AND THEN YELLOW STREAKS PASS MY EYES, RUNNING, RUNNERS. FIGURE EIGHTS ON A RUN THROUGH THE YELLOW WOODS. I AM MAIL.
“MOM!" ON THE TOES OF 5HE PINK WUIT, A DREAM OF A VHS BOY, A VIDEO TAPE YELLING. (SUBTITLES READ HE IS GOING IN THE BARN, HE’LL BE BACK IN AN HOUR FOR DINNER AND MOM READS OKAY.) THE YOUNG VHS TAPE PLAYS THE BUNNY SUIT RUNNING PAST ME. I AM MAIL IN A MAIL BOX. THE SUIT IS STITCHING ALONG THE DIRT ROAD TO THE WOOD SHED, WARPED SKY GETS TANGLED INTO THE SUITS PINK WAKE.
(I FEEL THE MAIL BOX OPEN
THE RUSTED HINGE
SLAMS CLOSED.
I AM THE STACK OF LETTERS IN HIS BUNNY MITS. PINK BUNNY SHORTCAKE POURS ALL OVER THE BEND IN THE ROAD. I SEE THE SUIT FROM INSIDE OF HIS HANDS. THE MITS LIFT A BARBED WIRE FENCE, LIFT ME, AND THE SUIT CLIMBS THROUGH THE OPENING, CATCHING PINK FUZZ ON BARBED WIRE.
DRIPPING FROSTING OFF THE SHOULDER-BLADES OF THE SUIT TO MY ENVELOPE TONGUE, I TASTE A LITTLE PIECE.
HAY STRETCHED IN YEARS OF DOLLAR, FIVE-DOLLAR, TWENTY FIVE DOLLAR, AND FIFTY DOLLAR TREES.
THERE, BUNNY CROSSES THE GIANT BLEACHED SUN, A PINK BLUR, JUMPING THROUGH FORGET-ME NOTES, A SMOTHERED BLUR OF PINK PAINTINGS ACROSS THE HANDWRITTEN LETTERS OF THOSE FORGOTTEN. THE SUIT, AND EVERY SINGLE WILLOW TREE IS BECOMING A FRACTAL; A RIGHT ANGLE VIEW FROM THE MAIL TOSSED INTO THE BRANCHES CONNECTS ME: SINGING, WALTZING, DEEP PINK, FRACTAL. THE FARM EDGE IS ENTERING PROPERTY FANGS, SITTING MOIST ON HIS MOTHERS HOUSE, IN MY BUNNY SUIT.
REMOTE, I AM WAITING AT THE STAGE OF A MANDELBROT, ZOOMED ALWAYS TO THE SAME POSITION, IN THE WARPED PINK OF THE BUNNY, AND THE WILLOW BRANCHES LIKE MARBLED PAPERWORK.
HIDDEN IN REPEATED SHAPES OF FIBER, HANGING NEAR THE NOTCHES OF A FEW HUNDRED LADDERS, ALL DIFFERENT TYPES OF LADDERS SUBMERGED IN HAY BALE AFTER HAY BALE, A RUSTED EDGE OF BARBED WIRE POKES THROUGH, AND THE GUST OF THE BUNNY SUIT SPIRALING WILLOW SENDS ME, AND ALL THE MAIL INTO THE LOFT.
AS THE BUNNY PRESSES UP THE LADDER, LETTERS FALL THROUGH THE RUNGS, SOME OF MY MIND. I AM FRUSTRATED WITH THIS SUIT. THIS BUNNY JUST WON'T HEAR THE MUSIC.
I'M HISTORYS HIDIN' SPOT, HIS PLAY HOUSE; AND THE LONG SHADOWS TRAIL, TRACK, SEEK, HUNT, PURSUE, REACHING FOR THE PINK NECK, ALL FUZZY, AND CAUGHT WITH STICKS, AND HAY, DIRTYIN' UP THE DAMN SUIT!
::
WHISPERS ARE BUILT UP OUT OF A DISTINCT GRIM I HAD PLANNED FOR, THE SHAKING HAY FROM THE RUNGS WHILE THE BUNNY ASCENDS, I SEE THE EARS ALL MARBLED PAPER IN A WILLOW OF THE MANDELBROT CORNER. THESE ARE SOME INDENTATIONS ON THE STAGE, THESE ARE ALL VERY INEVITABLY REPEATED SHAPES I SEE LYING ON THE FLOOR NEXT TO ME.
THERE, I SIT IN THE MANDELBROT: A PILE OF SCYTHES, CODES, A WOOD SAW, BLOOD, A SET OF STEAK KNIVES. MY HEAD ACHES. EYES ENTER MY HIDDEN PLACE, THROUGH THE PILE OF SCYTHES, LAYERS OF MUTATION, BLOOD. HAY STICKS TO THE KNIVES IN LITTLE CLUMPS. KNIVES LUNGING, VAULTED FROM THE MANDELBROT, IN THE SHORTCAKE LOOK ON THE BUNNY MASK. I SMELL THE SUIT AS TOOLS FOLLOW TO THE DUST OF THE WOOD FLOORING STRAWBERRIES FLYING TO THE WILLOW, AND BACK. FOR A MOMENT, THERE IS A COAT OF PAINT . WHITE WARPED TO RED, MARBLED PAPERWORK BARN IN YELLOW BLANKETS. THE PINK SUIT AND I START WRESTLING A VHS VIDEO, YOUNG BOY LAUGHING AT THE SCREEN., INCLUDING BLACK FINGERS THAT CROSS THE BACKGROUND.
WHITE AND MARBLED RED, WHITE AND MARBLED RED, WHITE AND MARBLED RED (…) I WALK OUT OF THE VHS VIDEO, THE WAX MELTS THE SCREEN, ( THE TV GOES OUT) AND PUT ON THE SIDEWALK NEXT TO A FEDORA HAT. I ENTER SOME ANIMAL THROUGH THE BACK OF HIS HEAD, ABSORBING MY MEMORY INTO THEIRS.
PAINTED CLOCKS SURROUND ME, ARMFULS OF 8×4 CANVASES WRAP A ROOM ( LIKE BLANKETS,) MOVING THE OLD DAYS BACK, UNTIL THE OLD DAYS ARE CUT OUTS AND CLIPPINGS FROM THE NEWSPAPER, AND THE NEWSPAPER COVERS THE WALL OF THE ROOM LIKE WALLPAPERS . I'M LIKE A KID HANGING POSTERS ALL OVER MY ROOM. AND I'VE GOT MY CUTE BUNNY SUIT ON, AND HE SAID HE LIKES WHAT I'VE DONE HERES.
FAST COMPUTERIZED TANGLES MAKES IT LIKE THE SUIT STANDS BEHIND ME AGAIN. THE BUNNY KEEPS CHANGING COLORS. THE SUIT. SWITCHING, WHITE AND RED, , WHITE AND RED, SWITCHING WHITE AND RED, SWITCHING, THE SUIT KEEPS SWITCHING, WHITE AND RED! WHITE AND RED! SWITCHING WHITE AND RED SWITCHING WHITE AND RED WHITE AND RED
I PUT THE SUIT BACK ON. “WHAT ARE YOU?" I CRY MINIATURE FOG, I CHOKE ON WORDS.
A LIFT UNBUCKLES BY THE POSTERED UP WALL, TWELVE HANDS PULL PIECES OF MY EXAMINING ROOM CLOSER. IN THE EXAMINING ROOM, I CAN GET TO MY TOOLS, AND WITH THESE TOOLS I CAN GET TO THE NITTY GRITTY. THE FINGERS OF A MORE GENTLE HAND GATHER WHITE FOG ACROSS THE WALLPAPER AND DOWN, INTO A GLASS JAR. THESE WHITE FOGS ARE THE LEFT OVER PAINTS FROM A VARIETY OF PAST EVENTS IN MY SUIT, A GENEROUS HISTORICALLY BASED DATA, CREATED FOR THE PURPOSES OF MEDIATING A COSTUME, AND ITS OWNER.
MY NAKED STAFF ENTER, PREPARING A CLOSURE IN THE WALLS, BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE PROBLEM. ALL THE OTHER AREAS HAVE HEALED EXCEPT FOR ONE PLACE WHERE THE WALL SEEMS THICK., I UNDRESS, THINKING THIS MAY BE THE ISSUE, AND STAGGER THROUGH THE SUDDENLY THICK ROOM. SIFTING SAND OUT OF THE PARTICLES IN THE AIR, THE AIR IS TOO THICK AND ALL OF US ON STAFF TAKE OUT OUR SCUBA GEAR AS IT DAWNS ON ME – THIS IS LEXINGTON – HER WRITING ON A FELT. SHE HAD CRIED ALL OF THAT SNOW.
WHITE LIGHTS IN THE SCUBA GEAR COURSE THROUGH THE NIGHTMARE, ALL OF THE SAND GROWS TO THE SIZE OF SNOW BALLS, AND THE STAFF TAKES DOWN THE MASKS. "THIS IS A THREE COURSE MEAL OF COTTON, GIRLS!" OLD, WHITE PAINT, COTTON, SNOW, AND SCRAPS OF PAPER APPLY TO OUR LEGS. LITTLE MARRIENETTE PUPPETS SIGN AT THE DOTTED LINES OF THE APPLICATIONS. "COTTON EXPOSURE FOR THE ANALYSIS CREW." THE PUPPETS SAY.
AN APARTMENT COMPLEX THAT THE STAFF AND I BUILD FROM A COLLECTION OF SHARK TEETH LOADS ON A CORNER COMPUTER AND WE SELECT THE COLOR MINT FOR THE PAINT, AND INTO THE OFFICE, LARGER IN IMAGE, THE APARTMENT COMPLEX IS FILLED WITH LOVE, AND STARS IN THE FORM OF WATER. BOATS IN THE DISTANCE ARE FOR THE STAFF TO LOUNGE ON.
A COTTONWOOD OFFICE BUILDING IS THE SHIP I CHOOSE. I'VE PUT ON A NEW SUIT MADE OF WINDOWS I FOUND IN THE TOWN CENTER. I MADE IT LOOK LIKE A SMILE ON ME, AND MY NAKED STAFF WALK THROUGH THE OFFICE, TRYING ON PARTS OF THE ROOM: CHAIRS, TABLES, ITS DOING ITS JOB. FINALLY A SENSE OF CALM IS BEFORE ME, OLYMPIA WATCHES AS I EAT. SHE IS DRESSED IN A WAITRESSES OUTFIT SHE HAND STITCHED THE FIRST YEAR WE WERE HERE. I GOBBLE DOWN A HANDFUL OF VEGETABLES DIPPED IN MUSHROOM TEA. I AM CAREFUL AND SWIFT. STILL, SITTING REAL STILL. THE LIGHTS ARE DIM, THE WAY I LIKE THEM. EVERYTHING IS CALMING DOWN. AT LEAST I’M HERE, INSIDE, SITTING IN MY HOUSE I'VE BEEN WORKING ON . SITTING IN AN EFFORT.
THE LUNAR ECLIPSE WE ALL WORKED ON IS BEING VIEWED THROUGH A WATERFALL. CANTEENS OF MY FAVORITE TEA ARE BEING PASSED FROM SUB STATION TO SUBSTATION, ON A LONG ROBOTIC ARM THAT THE CIRCUIT BOARD PROGRAMS SMOOTHER, SO THAT TIME CAN FALL ASLEEP IN ITS HANDSOME ROWS, LAID BACK IN A COMPLEX STAR BUBBLE BATH OF OCEANIC BLISS.
CLOWN FISH SWIM IN THE GAPS OF THE SHARK TOOTH APARTMENTS -AT LEAST THIRTEEN HUNDRED YEARS OF MARRIAGE. AND SHE’S WATCHING ME HAND A FULL POUND OF KALE INTO MY SHOVEL; INTO MY MOUTH, INTO MY STOMACH. HER EYES WATCH MY STOMACH TWITCH AS I INGEST THE MUSHROOMS. OLYMPIA MAKES ME FEEL LIKE A GOOD MANAGER, SHE IS ALWAYS SO VERY CAREFUL, AND DELICATE WITH HER GLANCES.
THE WAX, THAT HAD MELTED OFF THE TELEVISION SET EARLIER, IS BEING SCRAPED UP AND USED FOR A BIG FIRE THE RABBITS WORK HARD TO START. THEY HAVE DECIDED TO STAY WITH THOSE OCCUPYING SCHOOL BOYS TOWN: TOWN CENTER. THEY BRUSH EACH OTHERS HAIR, AND THE NURSES WANDER TO A HAIR OF THE MAN SCREAMING AT THE WALLS. HIS BREATH SEEMS TO RUIN THE WALLPAPER, AND THEY ARE TRYING TO HAND HIM SOME TEA. SWOLLEN IN HIS HAIR ARE THE FROZEN MEMORIES HE INSISTS ON HOLDING. HE COWERS TO THE BACK OF MY MIND, AND FOLDS UP, IN CASE OF AN ISSUE. THE NURSES WANDER AROUND THE HOUSES, HANDING OUT TEA.
THE TEACUP OF INFINITY GENERATES IN MY FRAME OF REFERENCE AS I DRIFT IN THE STEAM OF THE TEA. FROZEN IN A LIE OF GLASS FOR A MOMENT, FINAL CLARITY EMERGES. “COMPLEX: THESE CLOWN FISH, SWIMMING IN THE CAVITY OF THE APARTMENTS.” I SAY. OLYMPIA IS A HALF FILTERED GENERATION – ONE OF MY REFERENCES IS THIS: CRYSTAL CUBE ROTATION DEVICE STIRRING THE CREAM TEACUP IN EATABLE LAVENDER.
OLYMPIA. CAN YOU HEAR ME?
CRYSTAL CUBE ROTATION DEVICE STIRS THE CREAM TEACUP IN EATABLE TEA. TEA. THIS CLEAR GLASS BOX, ALL THE CUPS, ROW AFTER ROW AND THEN ME ON THE CORNER, PERCHED IN A MANDELBROT, A FRACTAL, SURROUNDED BY THEM, LAVENDER SUBMERGED, HORIZON LINES OF AN EIGHT SIDED SCOPE DRIFTING OVER, LEFT, RIGHT, SLOW, TEACUP TIPPED ONTO ONE-DOLLAR IDEA WITHIN AMBIGUOUS ABSORPTION. VISUAL LAVENDER POURS OVER MY SKIN, SOAKS THE CLOTH OF THE PINK SUIT, TURNS IT, TURNS MY SKIN TO RICE PAPER AND MELTS AWAY INTO ONE OF THE CUPS.
OLYMPIA. I'M SCARED. OLYMPIA.
MY VISION IS IN LIQUID. FLOATING UNDER THE BUBBLING WATERS OF THE FLOWING TEA. A KALEIDOSCOPE MY FATHER BROUGHT ME BACK COMES INTO MY HAND. I REGISTER THE PURE JOY OF IT. THE LIGHTS ENTERING ALL OF THE DARKEST ROOMS WE BUILT FOR TOWN CENTER ADJUST IN MY NODULES.
OLYMPIA, WHY. WHY DID WE HELP THEM BUILD IT?
EYES NOTICE A FOREST IN THE DISTANCE, TREE LINES SWISHING IN A SERIES OF MOVEMENTS OVER UPSIDE DOWN , WET TEA MACHINE.THE LIQUID WARMS PARTS OF MY GENERATED BODY TO, THEN REFURBISH A PAIR OF ARMS, LEGS AND A HUMAN HEART FOR ME. THE BLOOD STARTS PUMPING THROUGH GLASS VALVES INSIDE OF THE TEA MACHINE. MY EYES FINALLY FLOAT UP TO THE TOP OF ONE TEACUP AND LOOK AROUND IN THE INTRICATE GLASS TUBE RUNNING THIS WAY AND THAT, PUMPING STEADY WITH BLOOD.
SOCIALLY, I FEEL COLD, AND DO NOT ATTEMPT TO SPEAK WITH OLYMPIA ANYLONGER. I AM RECOVERED IN TEA AND AM FEELING SLEEPY. THE SLEEP THAT I FEEL IS ALL NEW. THE SLEEP COMES RINSING OVER ME IN A KIND OF MACHINE BATH, AND ALL OF THE TALLEST GLASS WALLS MELT INTO A CHINA CUP.
THIS FEELING IS NOT NEW, I HAVE BEEN A HEROIC PILOT ON THIS CRAFT FOR OVER TWO MONTHS, AND HAVE WATCHED ALL OF THE BEST FILMS ON THIS EXPERIANCE, DRUG RELATED OR NOT. SO, WHEN AN EYE ROLLS THROUGH PIECES OF SLICED GREEN ONION, AND THEN EYES PILE WITH THE GRACIOUS NOTCH OF A CONCRETE HOLE, I CAN FIND REST IN PEACE, KNOWING WELL THIS IS ONLY THE MUSHROOMS.
IT MUST BE EMBARRASSING FOR OLYMPIA, THAT CRAZED LOOK ON MY FACE POKING OUT OF THE WINDOW FRAMES I MADE AS MY COSTUME, BUT I THINK I AM SAFE IN HER COMPANY. SHE IS THE GRACIOUS TYPE, PROBABLY THE LOVE OF MY LIFE, AND I DON'T THINK SHE WILL JUDGE ME TOO HARSHLY FOR THAT INCREDIBLY BUSY LOOK IN MY EYES.
A PLATE OF VALENTINE'S DAY CANDY IS PLACED BEFORE ME. I PICK ONE OUT AND THANK OLYMPIA. A WHITE ONE: ALWAYS FOREVER
A PINK ONE: YOU BET A WHITE ONE: DANCE WITH ME A GREEN ONE: MARRY ME TODAY I THINK OF SOMEONE ELSE,
AN ORANGE ONE: GET REAL
I THINK OF THEM AGAIN, SOMEONE WHO ISN'T OLYMPIA. A MASHED UP MISTAKE YELLOW ONE: DREAM TEAM
A PINK ONE THAT THE MACHINE CHEWED UP MAKING IT, LIKE A MOUSE CHEWED IT. LOVE OF MY LIFE I CHEW THE DREAM TEAM ONE AND SEE A GREEN ONE THAT SAYS MISS YOU. I PUT THAT ONE IN MY MOUTH AND SUCKER ON IT. OLYMPIA LEAVES ME SOME WATER WITH A LEMON IN IT, AND WANDERS AWAY, TO GET THE LATEST NEWS ABOUT MY EXPERIENCE. SHE COMES BACK AND HANDS ME A PRINT OUT WHICH I BEGIN READING, SUCKLING DOWN THE CANDY'S SLOWLY.
ISAAC HERING / PRINT OUT OF COLLECTED DATA FOR PSILOCYBIN MUSHROOMS/ STAFF COPY DATED: 2015, TIME 7:55P.M. _____________________ LIQUID WATER THAT MAKES UP THE BULK OF A SOUP, LIQUID IRIS, RETINAL BLOOD VESSELS, MACAULAY, LENS IN THE SOUP; THE WARM BROTH. (---------THE SAME TIME . -----) THE EYES ARE A PLACE TO COME CLOSER AND JOURNEY THE FOREST IN SOME KIND OF VISUALIZED MAP. THE GLASS CELL BEFORE THE MINT TEACUP IN THE FOREGROUND IS THEN LEAKED OUT THROUGH DIAMOND FILTERS – THE MACHINE TILTS— IT TILT 7 TIMES, THE GLASS CELL FILTERS OUT OF AN OUTDOOR POOL AND — : IN THE CRACKED PAVEMENT, THE LIQUID, YOUR EYES, MY EYES, YOUR EYES, MY EYES, YOUR EYES, MY EYES, YOUR EYES, MY EYES – I AM POURED LIKE PAVEMENT INTO ONE WHOLE ROW OF TEACUPS, OVER-FLOWING, VISUALLY THIS IS A GREAT TIME . THE LEFT HAND GRABS FROM SOMEWHERE IN THE BODY. THE EYES LINK UP, BACK TO THE BODY, AND YOU ARE BACK - FROM A WHOLE ROW OF LOCATIONS: PEERING A CEILING IN THE OFFICE. ____________________ REFERENCE TERMS FOR ISAAC HERING FRACTAL: A FRACTAL IS A NATURAL PHENOMENON OR A MATHEMATICAL SET THAT EXHIBITS A REPEATING PATTERN THAT DISPLAYS AT EVERY SCALE. IF THE REPLICATION IS EXACTLY THE SAME AT EVERY SCALE, IT IS CALLED A SELF-SIMILAR PATTERN. EN.WIKIPEDIA.ORG/WIKI/FRACTAL A FRACTAL IS A NEVER-ENDING PATTERN. FRACTALS ARE INFINITELY COMPLEX PATTERNS THAT ARE SELF-SIMILAR ACROSS DIFFERENT SCALES. THEY ARE CREATED BY REPEATING A SIMPLE PROCESS OVER AND OVER IN AN ONGOING FEEDBACK LOOP. FRACTALFOUNDATION.ORG/RESOURCES/WHAT-ARE-FRACTALS