diaper dialogues xi

story

1.     we emerge from sunroom seeing bathroom door closed, assume it’s a flatmate doing business done behind doors. but – no! – emerging is a ups delivery human who’s used our bathroom for its purposes. it greets us enthusiastically, thanks us politely, leaves scents and a parcel and a story

2.     opening compost bin other day to empty our kitchen scraps – evening is musky, softly delirious – a corpulent naked human female clambers from rotting mulch, tells a turnip priest to marry us (which it does on a garden of decay, rooting forgotten liturgies into nuptial buddings), and we pitch our conjugal tent in a hidden african kingdom, untouched by slavery, europe’s christian talons, to grow, sing turnips, roll unperturbed in primordial muds

3.     some of you my friends have been peering deep into indifferent wiles of internet and from that immeasurable well has appeared to you, in truculent night, saprophytic night, oh molestuous night apparitions of time, saying (in part or obscurity) human. we have not seen you as we might. your soul is upturned out, covered in paraphernalia of gadget and culture, superciliousnesses of control stamping your brain whilst alien unilaterali puppeteer you    

4.     today sun rises like oslo or coleslaw on trolling belles, humming and hamming on ways to seas of bullets. squirrels, mice seek cats for death, amusement, and also crash our souls on fallen forests

5.     reason opens its backless wardrobe to see what it’ll wear. nothing to wear. i can’t go out naked. it stares at infinite selection, scans panoplies of everything to wear. new tailors! new designers! new technologies! new runways! new new! nothing. reason stares, does not venture into day, withholds its secrets from light and canopy

dialogue

these are stories to wake up to says rev mangetout

i’m still sleeping

all you do is flit between hypnopomp and hypnagog

a butterfly of liminoidality

a lepidopteran of thresholds

what do they mean though?

mean?

mean

you know better than to ask that

not really – without a best how can i know better?

best is just the mean of meaning without a limen

i don’t get it

then you get the meaning

can we have normal stories please?

once upon a slime will and jacki are bumbling through a trill hacking love and puking when a lipid turbid adder wallops from a nest lighting their orbitals. jacki goes awol, willi a’walking, adder with wellies to lunch

normal’s so elusive

haven’t found it yet

only misnomered tyrannies

value

when a mind’s configured to dream in words and live dreaming (a role in society that once was honoured, placed [and now even anticolonialists for whom dreaming is a subsidiary of will live against]), language – that cheap utility for instrumental humans – becomes a texture and movement in oneiric landscapes

we show not reason dressed and diplomatic, clear in social compromise, but at home and doubtful, and language, reason’s silent soul, lounging in a bath, meaning steaming, artifacts quite blurred, ends misplaced

these are dialogues of our plays, conversations of lost soils, voiced by ears in night’s mulch

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