Sunday, April 10, 2011

boil fire and stop fish

"Together, I said, we shall boil fire and stop fish"
-Werner Herzog

I'm writing a story (read: i'm thinking about writing a story while scribbling one-liners on the back of my hand).

Stitch the above pictures with an IV, add a Salingarian monologue, play this song at the end, and you won't need a plot.

Also wrote an untitled poem:

On the other side of the false world

Ink pools hollow roots.

You find the tree lying at the bottom

of a smoke stack, or cigarette.

Reaching for the blue, you dig sky, soil,

root, and rib; Rainbows oil your hand,

congealing birth

certificates and epitaphs that glow

like the sky above our city,

a treeless fossil gridding the desert with bionary.

I ask: what is America?

“The Wasteland!”


“Fear and Loathing!”

Perfect and unpublished, you fold the desert in my ribs

and say “America is a boy at the bottom of a smoke stack

reaching for the blue.”

I roll the tree into a cigarette. Watching the interstate,

we smoke the false world as the city grows dark,

a hollow car passing in the night.


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