poem

  I woke up one day & I walked outside & I didn't recognize anyone on my

street ... there was just a bunch of people running around in costumes with

walkie talkies & headsets & clipboards Mumbling to themselves & I

couldn't tell if they were actors or directors or cops or crazy people ...

I just walked out my front door to get bananas & suddenly I don't know

if this is real life or the movie of real life or the television

miniseries ... and I can't remember television but people tell me its like

this ... staged events with lots of people watching & some actors getting

paid more than others ... I haven't watched t.v. in years but people tell

me its real ...

 

  how post-post-modern of us to have lost our imagination so completely

that now real life imitates television

which is then based on a simulation of itself

 

  and ... I just woke up & walked out the door  ... & I noticed some people on

the street had developed a disease which caused them to sprout eyeballs

all over their bodies ... they were running around yelling "see?! see?! ... I

told you! ... see?!" ... & there were a bunch of other people with detachable

heads & limbs & they kept getting themselves all mixed up with each

other & there was a big clutter of the excess limbs & heads & eyeballs

being sold as souvenirs to tourists on ave.C ... & because I am a witness

to this display of the fragmentary effects of the marketing of identity

my teeth start to fall out ... just to remind me that they have more

control than I do ... but I don't care because it will make a good

necklace ...

 

  AND ... I just woke up & I just wanted to go to the store & get some

bananas but my socks kept falling down into my shoes & this is more

irritating to me right now than any aspect of the repressive society in

which we live ... because ... I just want to go to the store & get some bananas

but there is a man in my face who wants me to be the girl he owes money

to  ... & there is a man who is in charge of something & he is standing in

a dark green doorway & he only becomes visible when referred to & even

then he can only be seen out of the corner of your eye ... & there is a

woman who can't understand him & she's laughing like an avalanche & she

says she will have to take a lot of pschychiatric drugs before she will

be able to talk to him ... & HE wants HER to be the girl he owes money to ... &

there is a man with a blood filled mouth telling the sidewalk that the

universe has begun to collapse & spiral inward & he says its because

god is money but money isn't worth anything unless it comes with

information but no one else knows anything about this because they are

too busy being unemployed under employed or dead ...

 

  & all I wanted to do was walk down the street to the store but I know

by now that these things are not that simple & I end up in the middle

of a group of people & we are running like a pack of dogs trying to

avoid getting shot by the long range cameras used by the soldiers of

the photographic army & we end up in a room full of experimental

telephones & first we think its great & we start calling everyone we

know all around the world ... but then it becomes torture because there are

scientists who have the job of sitting there listening to our

conversations ... we become consumed with paranoia & we start trying to

speak in codes so as not to incriminate ourselves ... this makes it

impossible for anyone we call to understand what the fuck we are

talking about ...

someone new comes in & he is not from around here & so he doesn't

understand the language that our seceret language is based on & anyway

he refues to use the telephones & he refuses violently & we are amazed

at this concept of the denial of convenience & we don't understand how

we can have secerets if we don't tell people we have secerets ...

 

but all I wanted to do was go to the store & get bananas but

outside there was a big demonstration happening but the people couldn't

decide or agree on  one word to shout in unison (which is all they were

now permitted by a new law issued by the federal bureau of perception)

they can't agree so they replace words with fists that punch the air &

leave stains of red & blue like shadows that slowly fade as the

demonstration becomes a 2 dimentional representation of itself ...

this is not a demonstration this is a badminton game & the masses of

people are now forced to become spectators in the the bleachers ... their

voices are only heard as background noise & the real players are not

much affected by this

the spectators are only visible in black & white because there is not

enough room in this program for color

& at night they will exchange paranoid theories instead of bodily fluids

& they will carrass each other with screams of love & tenderness

& they will imagine themselves to be on t.v. where they can be a

thousand pictures without having to say a word.