Swans’ necks & hurdy-gurdies. A morbid
fear of the concept of the alphabet “in itself”; it is doubtful the patient has
even a vague understanding of the prognosis. Beneath your feet a secret railway
runs, carrying messages from the 19th to the 22nd
centuries. Terrible wounds inflicted, though necessarily so.
Dark rain falls, darker than the darkness
from which & through which it is falling. A child, in a skimpy dress, plays
hopscotch, simultaneously playing at being a child in a skimpy dress, playing
hopscotch. A morbid fear of the pragmatics of an alphabet “outside itself”; the
patient’s wounds appear to have been self-inflicted, though the patient also appears
to be approximately 170 years old.
Recording of a hurdy-gurdy, approximately
1920. Young trees, further developed than saplings, dominate the photograph,
unnaturally bright they form a backdrop that erases any pictorial foreground.
An old man, perhaps the hurdy-gurdy player of the approximately 1920 recording,
reclines against the most vigorously developed of the trees. A beautiful young
woman, perhaps his granddaughter, laughingly eats berries from a straw basket.
The recording is traced by significant pre-echo, trapping its human elements in
a Paradise of eternal pre-occurrence.
Your wounds, necessarily are
self-inflicted. The self that has inflicted them is long gone. You sit on your
bed & stare along a staircase at an open door, at a room with an unshaded
light bulb burning. Along the corridor you sit on your bed & stare at
yourself in your room, the door open, an unshaded light bulb ablaze. You crawl,
naked, into the street, imitating the sound of a hurdy-gurdy’s pre-echo circa
1920. If no one pays you any attention that’s because they’re not there.
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