Thursday, July 19, 2012

APOCALYPTIC ALLEY CAT CHRIST


one hemisphere of the Big Bang came off
taking on the excretory arc of a bullet wound
and dogshit yellow pollen exploded in the nose
communities later forming via conduction of silicone
into another dimension, that of the dark side of a burning
building, where the apocalyptic alley cat christ
blinks its green eyes with drapes of sauna fuzz

there aren't really people in this community:
loops of fly paper jostling for position simulate I'm
not sure what body language or why
but most mornings there is usually a loud clunk
when my hologram is checking itself this way and activating
and in trying to say good morning it instead releases
smog from a Ziploc bag as a likeness of its voice,
slick and distant, more like an infomercial voice-over
explaining how narcissism holds our failures not
in the way dissection makes a piglet look alive,
and the neglect of grooming self or self's hologram
engenders a hard exterior cast

2 trillion zillion years later my hologram is still alive and trying to
make sense of this magazine in its lap and its airs of concentration
are gruesome, somehow, one hand holding something moving
towards it (i.e. moving towards the magazine's spine) and it's
as if the awareness of this movement and awareness of the hand's
contents – a generic office stapler – come from the hand itself and from
the stapler itself, a likeness of a voice saying in my hologram's head:
this stapler really needs to think or pause decorously a bit before feeding
as in where's this thing's manners

many gazillion years later, my hologram's corpse leaves a lot of waste
graveside and vultures of the future are useful in imparting to this waste
a lighter, albeit slightly drab tone, which reconfiguration and change of
general gestalt graveside of the waste is not as cute as e.g. my
hologram's unexpected volte face some trillion years previously
coming up from the basement with the proverbial hat in hand
begging my wife (my actual wife, not my wife's hologram) for a
headache pill as banging on pots and pans and other basement 
unwantables down there every night in an attempt to simulate the 
haunting of a poltergeist has inflicted on the hologram, i.e. on the 
hologram itself, what amounts to a pretty bad headache

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