MAY 2009

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Inconceivable Wilson
By J. A. Tyler, Mar 06, 2009

Her dress a picture in my head and strange that it would be, it is. I see her and then I donít because she waits, terminal dressed and statuesque, plaguing the carpet in stammering pace, in lines that run about on themselves. The questions about how we let ourselves go. Flagship, flagged. The dreams and hallucinations. I hear birds but they are the chirping inside my own ears, head. My head spilt, split open. Dark fingers in my brain, on. The spoons, utensils, they are always dug bones and tiny canoes, the essence of rivers, the flight. And these from ribs or the more finite, they show me and laugh, make me run my senses over their frail edges, the sharp tune of them and I see, the dreams. I dream. Waking to her from fast sleep the tremble of snakes converting my legs, pinning my movement, threatening my walk. I leap, leapt, throw off herself from myself and eject the room, the walls from my hands, the light. There is so much light. Her arms radiate heat and she searches the bed, the snakes I assumed, and there are none. I see what is not. I hallucinate and dream. They are plunging spoons into my recall, upheaval of memories, we consummate our relationship. I am limb to their ever-changing trees, the place they peel, to begin. Newness and I begin again, anew, lighted now with the darkness, coated.

J. A. Tyler is the author of the forthcoming novellas SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE (ghost road press) and IN LOVE WITH A GHOST (willows wept press) as well as the chapbooks THE GIRL IN THE BLACK SWEATER (Trainwreck Press) and EVERYONE IN THIS IS EITHER DYING OR WILL DIE OR IS THINKING OF DEATH (Achilles Chapbook Series). He is also founding editor of mud luscious / ml press. Visit: aboutjatyler.com.

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