Surrealism

This Is The Ticket

Lindsey Nelson

copyright enforced by HEX

Something distilled in spectra of time 

brings to mind that Railroad Feeling

of inevitable plunging along the invertebrate backbone of 

Life’s Illusion

I looked inside the eggshell mosaic

That carpets the cathedral

Where we wander in vulgar circles

And

I saw makeshift string theories and agitated ions

All dancing to the same song

I stepped out of my snakeskin rowboat

At the morning shore of the Great Water

Wanting to cross and see the Fabled Fabric of Fate’s Fork

The Artist of Decomposition dangles deranged

In a Plasticine blob of neon death

Nutritionless, he collapses where the worthless

Hours are siphoned from the Arcade of Archers

Shooting arrows of Lies through the glistening gloom

And they whistle like light bulbs in and out of the room

The Juxtapossessor

He knows now to tango

And just where to tangle

The peripheral alleys into a maze of angles

Mostly obtuse but potentially opaque

And he comes to expect that it’s all going to end

In apathetic avenues with diabetic crush

The sound is like manic electric echoes

Through the sand in his hand

He burned off his fingertips so they’ll never catch him

(K)not until they whip up the steeples

and scour the washboards for rancid partisans

I met him on the railroad; he was crying like a brick

And he told me of his sojourn through the Tide of Tricks

Where the Magistrate is toothless

Rendering violence utterly useless

Except in the case of the Elders on Easter

Trifold the women all waiver their interests

In open admonition of sanity’s shallows

If you hold your mouth just right

The freeways might align with Orion

In order to guide the seekers

But Orion doesn’t get the gist of the joke

So divine interludes thereby interrupt the rhythm

Of the mothers in humble interrogation

There’s no recreation but feisty negation

To show appreciation of time-trusted holes

He said have you ever wondered whether or not

You were having the dreams of circadian hornets?

Did you strain against the flimsy recollections

Of a Wheel you once spoke to when you were whipped

Into shreds by a gristly enterprise?

And did the Wheel answer kindly?

And for a slim flickering nuance

The whole universe transformed into an arrow

Indicating to you that you were Watched

That you were Officially Acknowledged

By the intricacies that exist in the holes

Where the rain once fell like Oriental stones?

I said Why that’s right, Sir

I remember quite clearly

The acuity of hammering clockwork

As a psychic rumbling commenced to orchestrate mirrorlike

And I thank you from the center of sand for the memory

And the stubborn horror that twirls like a caravan around my bones

You need not forget the sound of the Shine when you succumb

To the Northwesterly Incantation. 

The Murmur of Many oceans in a bubble...

We were poised like globulin buoyant in hell

At the Fabled Fate’s Fork where we met

For the only time in the numberline’s mind

He went that way: I came this; so

If he ever unearthed the jawbone of mayhem

Like he hoped, I don’t know. Never will.

But he lives in my cerebral cathedral still.

With octagons clashing like unearthly bells

Maybe he’ll board the backbone in time

To oscillate without the chains intact.

And maybe he won’t. But his art is a river rat

Escapading as a force of natural consciousness

As opposed to graphic hydromind

Steel will boil if properly instigated

But I won’t sail the Great Water just yet

Waiting for the fish in the Sun

We’ll squint in the sun and laugh at iris intrepid

Or we could lose our names in the glittering haze

Of a thousand dislodged delusions

That howl as they huddle in an asbestos slide

Bottlenecked or swivel chakra with no insignia

But the imprint of pressurized aberration

Cold spoon linoleum inside the coliseum

Where tumbleweeds battle artificiality

In a stucco city where wheels are null except in midflight

I wonder if it’s going to make sense when it doesn’t

Seem to want to. But Look. I’m just personifying an influx of neural vibrations

I apologize to the Wise and the Motionless

I beseech the curdled and the wireless

Please tell the Germans about the speeches

Contained in encoded treatises on the back of z lack