III: MATRICES

III.I (APRIL MMIX)

Energy supplies burn. There is an accumulation of ash at the midpoint of her torso. From this core of dead elements, no longer spawning heat and pressure, a mass exceeding even that attributed to the sun (whose beauty I shall, until my dying breath, refrain from acknowledging, and whose oppression is stifling in the dusty streets and levelled fields through which I have dragged my limbs – trampled by human cattle – behind me) gathers and in so doing peaks via a collapse of synapses and neurons going supernova in the brain, the internal disruption clearly visible in the way she afterwards reaches to the bedside table and, expressing through her gestures a modicum of uncertainty perhaps, sips from a glass of water.

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Dark Sky Gets Motivational

We’ll tell you all our secrets but lie about our past. Yes, yes. The past. We make mistakes; we have regrets. But the future pushes our reluctant minds forward. Like that dirty vice you’re trying to escape. So back to the future we go today. In case you haven’t heard enough about the Berlin Wall, Commonweal has more. Warhol endures, and we take a linguistic trip backward. In the meantime, as long as we prod forward, we’ll be debating whether The Original of Laura should have been published or not. But we’ll reserve judgment until we read it. Finally, we will forever be looking forward to Tom Waits. Don’t look back. – Andrew Geer
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