LINE-UP OF BLOOD

140. LINE-UP OF BLOOD:

There's a line-up of blood somewhere that's mine - and a headache to go with it - all bulging eyeballs and pounding skulls and letters which were written to anyone who cared : it's all a fate worse than decadence as well and I've found (in small circles of friends) that 'art' is but a lesson in fair symmetry of the shapes and lines of the street in all its endless angles and colors and walls and windows with the shades and the lights of the sun - one large assemblage of moment - and they are all but the wandering scenery of place seeking home RAW and DRAWN and made POWERFUL by all the energy of life itself while THAT WHICH IS is then merely the interpretation of everything else and there is NO envelope large enough to fit my emotions YET 'in my ghost-written nightmare I'm afraid to grow out of my glacier' : and as I land a view and stay on my feet READING 'The Sorrows of Young Werther' and wondering why I look towards the hills and dream new circles of dread : the doctor asks back 'but can you talk?' and I nod in affirmation but still remain silent and then he asks 'but have you been here before?' and I nod yes to which he asks 'can you prove it?' and I say 'no' and inside me somewhere wells up the knowledge that it's MY DNA all over these walls and windows and more in sorrow than glee I shake my head and make a motion to send him away and they put me to sleep - sedated I'm told - with some drug made from flowers in milk made from goats and I sleep the new sleep of ten thousand old years - - seeing visions of oaks and mountain pines seeing ancient wizards and fiery crystals seeing small men who live in the trees and the awful smirks on their not-so-human faces and I find myself bowing down to something just before I dream of death and awake with a start looking at children on a ledge far up before me - in singsong cadence like convicts in an exercise-yard line-up - and of a sudden they JUMP! and are gone and I am left again alone dreaming of dreaming the dream of sleep : I hear a man's voice speaking of death and of a someone shooting people from high up on a Texas tower somewhere old some university setting I knew I recalled and I heard his voice saying : 'isn't the whole point of an education to better understand LIFE and thus have an understanding for DEATH ? so that when it comes one just simply goes?' and I sought to say 'what a cheap sleazy point you make' but my mind wouldn't work for my mouth to speak and nothing came forth when I uttered no sound as I heard foggily the doctor say 'this is now very interesting - for he seeks again to speak yet cannot utter a sound' and with that they closed the door and I was YET ONCE MORE AGAIN alone and vacant alone and unsound alone and without recourse to any other man as a great huge tree fell and crushed the ceiling and crushed the room wherein I was but I was there and unharmed and saw myself still watching everything...