Life Becomes Red Metal
life becomes red metal driving gears through what space i was embracing like a garden at 35 below all light amplified like 60 watts in a doorless honda megabass inverting the brain through ear-drum-head-sets, plugged to plunge, who with six-string fangs bared on the waterside, water pictures of my melting face, i am the skyline of overburdened mammals-- All hail Rodentia, the statue of liberty a giant carnivorous rat: send me your dreams, your callow optimism writhing to be sedated, i can't control my inner lobbyist with what dangling carrot replacing magnetism with brand loyalty so i spiral against the car i don't have, drool through the store windows and fill the shop with the blinding white phosphor of my need then teleport home, turning wrong across the imperfection of inner space: i've examined myself so long and intensely i don't know how to leave. i will call this place home even if i've never seen it before. my name is rusted metal bicycle spear, ambidextrous light pouring molten sugar where my face could wish congealing like 4 dimensional tv stuck in maynard's pocket or the apocalyptic bouffants seldom seen unwhite, unbooted,, falls upon the ear of a canyon where car parts have returned to die, an orchestral array of buffalo horns rumbling like synthesized tubas mating with cryogenic piccolos red doorway red shoes red ink drying into fluorescent windshield twisted like bracelets on now fashionable robot-trees unfurl into travel trailers sheened with hallucinogenic security sucking the air out of itself so skin stops listening to bones and veins and goes directly to surgery: i want my flesh to be one continuous polymer, my clothes are holograms i lease like the wireless uplink i traded growth hormones for "he'd do anything to get back his stolen liver" i am meditating on my heart, visualizing it becoming solid around me; the pumping blood is stellar flux, the buddha nature, high prices eagerly paid for instant samsara: we have nothing to fear but total ignorance, sweet dreams, spontaneous combustion as the inner crystals are shattered by what lack of music resonating with the millions of cubic zircon hearts dangling between the teeth, between knee flex crunches pop into the air like deep-fried mosquitoes subliminal thunder wind goes rhizome to thread through anything, dredging the river, harvests the sky, opening the vertical blinds of old forests, low-developing cheekbone plateau so shale, so rice, so intimate with that mail order karma swooping like a hungry parachute this prairie should be mathematically sinuous; the rain is pure algebra, the grass is talking about numbers, mice breathe by chewing then metal comes out of hibernation thundering a rainbow of dust that itches so bad nature gets distracted letting man escape into the world.
Copyright © 1996 Dan Raphael
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