Portable Mood Splicing Device

10/31/14

I had been delivered to my own house because my nervous legs were running
without you in a dark country of interior claims. If I cried a little, I didn’t remember it.
It was sad to see so many dead witches, moon-roe spilling out, the tide washing
them back and forth like that. I thought I could see a tail eyeing me and it had already
started. The terrible beauty of the unseen storms that terrorize young girls, long before
they understand rain.
I had become a continuous person. I had misunderstood an invention that solves
misunderstandings with a vibrating stick. This was in a movie without a hero where the
villain is played by each of us. Its meaty anchor was hustling slick lips beyond the arcade.
It was a perpetration, a tall cool assignation.
I knew it was time to go home and for some reason I wanted to find the fresh toast
unplugged. I wanted to find the resinous jam. So I addressed myself to the problem and
when I got home, you were out.
So I went home and I believed you wanted to hit me and then hold on tight. I felt
like some kind of smarmy saint sucking a dying beer and I remember thinking It’s a
beautiful stink with a glove on its missing finger.
I remember thinking I’m lying in the meadow waiting for leaping rabbits and
overjoyed butterflies and I remember a tubular pillow of light I sleep in when my dreams
remember me. A few of them bark.
Pay attention now. I’m not over there. I’ll chew like a little sneeze that starts to
hurt, but I’m not always the same. I have a personality.
So when I got home, I didn’t think I was dressed quite like a donney boy anymore
and I asked you about the fellowship of snakes and a room for your antipathies and I
moved nearer and listened to the wailing of the grieving nuns and the screams echoing by
candlelight in a watery dungeon and that’s how my heart began paying attention.
No, it wasn’t really like this.
It was this.



Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.