Dark shadows of knuckles cracked within soul of my cortex. Brain star left side now right lobe clicks inside of head and the heater rums and brings up warmth and down to the dusty concrete takes the night, as when you look in the sky you see the clouds and inspiration that awaits for the burning of the imagination to boil over with the point that is to be made. This is nothing but time and wood on feet which are blue with bleeding toe nails, which also sometimes get too-too-too long.
Lost track of something, maybe my mind, maybe the Ferris Wheel…the old metal circle in the playground…memory of when I was young and I spun so fast that I fell off and drug my brain on a screw. They said it’s coming from his brain. I said whats coming from my brain? my little friend rj said blood. Your brains are coming out of your head. So I started feeling around with my baseball chalk fingers, touching for my head and blood appeared on my hands where holes were poked by metal pokers. I looked at the green grass and the color of the rust that was on the fence, and the green-green grass, the green summer grass…
Freedom and berries that are from the south, and the south still is near the north star that rests behind your head. In your own head, not mine, in your head you can laugh about something, something is better than nothing. This is something that i don’t always agree with. Do you? Do you what? Do you see space in the stars from where the sun explodes with grief? Good grief. That is all. That is all I can say. Good grief.
And down my face I saw red blood-water blood-reflection of the green grass dripping from my forehead, streaming into my eyes. It’s coming from his brain, his brain. It’s coming from his brain rj said. And it was. The blood was coming from my brain. At first I was dizzy from the merry-go-round-round-around. Being so stunned from the bloody drain of the screw I fell into while I spun in the air I thought I was on a carnival ferris-wheel during the night. I wasn’t dreaming. They put me on a stretcher and sent me in a rocket ship that really was a helicopter, and I was laughing and asking about the green grass and the kids were screaming and the parents were holding the children who were my friends, and they were worried about how long their brains would be safe, they were worried about the night dreams. And as my brain was bleeding out of my head, brain blood out a pin hole, a merry round screw hole, twisted and slit down the scalp in the back of my head, as I was laughing at the shapes of moon dusk clouds and the tinkling of the shaking of the propellers, up I went into the rocket ship and over the city I was taken to a launch pad, but we were returning, that is what the helmet and sunglasses told me. Asking for a sticker and if my brain bled out I was given a needle. That is what I remember…
The tracers in your eyes. They blur with the past, the past that is time delayed, the past that is sensitive to other thoughts, to your thoughts, to their thoughts, to everyone people folks and their thoughts, no thoughts, all thoughts, each and everyone. This is just a thought.
I stopped my yelling and talking about the green grass. They tied me down to a board, because I was saying some weird things. I asked about the rocket ship, and if we were on the space ship. They said yes were on the space ship. I was at the hospital. I saw a dead person. It was Jesus. He was laughing but also bleeding from the head. I asked for a sticker. Wondered if my brains bled out. I was given a needle and told to count. I got to three…
Around the corner there is a drug dealer. I don’t know his name. Maybe he is a doctor. Maybe he is a death dealer of the highest order of death dealers, who knows?
Night Dreams. Next day green grass. Next day surgery. Next day hands untied. Next day love. Next day cat scan. Next day tears. Next day wheel chair. Next day cold hallways. Next day jello. Every night black and white movies…
In the day you ask for something and mediate the picture screen images and wonder where the words will come from? There was this person that I met once, but I forgot all about who it was. They’re no-longer a memory. The clock is always a memory. The clock beats and spins and says hello, who are you? who are you? I don’t know I say. Who are you? Well I’m a clock? You’re a person, and this is the planet earth. Thanks clock. Thanks so much for filling me in to the what have you of the human people what have you.
Next day cartoons. Next day sticker. Next day needles. Next day chicken noodle soup. Next day grandmother. Next day beeps. Beeps. Beeps…
Next day baby tooth fall out. Next day cards and king lion and r2d2 and dog visit. Next day surgery. Next day hair starts to grow back. Next day pills. More cold hallways. beeps…
Next day fresh air. Next day green grass. Next day back on merry go around. Next day broken ankle playing basketball. That day and once again blood on green grass. That year, I was ten.
(E)
Adventures In American Writing 