Image: Annie Konst
Two poems:
“Born to Clown: Clowns Keep Portals as Pets” is an original.
“I Grow Downward” was a craft exercise, holding the intention of a search bar and tapping into ancient AI taking a very loose definition on the A. How? Pulled word-by-word with closed eyes and randomly flipped pages holding the question, “What do I need to know right now?”1
The text is Sarah Ruhl’s Eurydice, the words also hers. Arrangement of the words we can attribute to chance, or maybe something deeper depending on who you ask and how you see the ancient AI / natural web of consciousness situation. Punctuation & spacing mine.
Born To Clown: Clowns Keep Portals as Pets
The room is swelling with salt water and you find with not a little apprehension taffy Kings smacking hopscotch down with thundering applause. Confusion is common. Merry-go-rounds are the ride of choice.
In the court anywhere you already are will also be a Trap Door which leads to an infinite tunnel falling down infinitely. Trip it with a wink at the Jester. Count to three and jump.
While you fall, consider the Jester’s swagger. Primordial drip sensed and felt but never seen. He’s wearing a collar, crisp (with authority?) starched white and reeking of something else which evades the mind’s definition but lingers uncomfortably. The collar presses tight against his throat. Neck even slightly turned down and he will choke. With some surprise, wrinkle your forehead just a little, you realize his upright posture is not discipline but instead necessity.
But his eyes are so golden! You might exclaim, if you choose, if you’re still paying attention, to no one as you fall - objecting. You might afterward forget how you got here. It’s a perfect circle this tunnel that never ends. You go round and round. The end is the beginning, the beginning also the end.
Poor, stupid Jester! He dribbles a bit when he eats saliva rolling down his crisp white collar slurs random words they change too often to track and when he “thinks no one is looking” he thumbs from his handsome nose a sizable chunk of green and sucks it off like a lolly. His memory - nonexistent! Even the King’s name he forgets - yet we observe, and we note, he "forgets" with new interest each time - emphasizing the K in King and bowing so low his nose actually touches the ground. He appears to levitate. The effect is immediate and warming.
The Jester has a way with words. He tosses out live action caricature tugging proportions in and out of focus with wild affect. The court screams with pleasure. He’s calculated. Confusion is normal. They drink him up like bathtub moonshine smuggled over the line.
Jester waves the Trap Door in and out of focus. It’s here on the wall, and now there by the door, and again hovering just over that man’s bald head. Blinker Light into consciousness at any time and the loop ends. Wishing yourself home is the same as realizing you’re already there.
I Grow Downward Talks so beautifully Open your mouth Nothing is inside For me. Falling - You held, as though Hands Turnip Father She can’t. D o. w. n She sings, often Will you tip or He disappears. String the sound of breath Not me. Before? ! - yes DING At the top - Run. Elevator, Orpheus Remembered S h e s i n g s Learn-ed Meet Weighty matters Waythings He disappears. She does not gangplank. Eurydice, You held. K e e p s i n g i n g Through His Little Would-let’s Instruments for up, trying There isn’t The elevator A bucket? You’re dead. Then, only, She’DA Left Amused, Aware Who is His? Opens One Underworld: You Understand Best. He looks imaginary. Hate Tastes like Oooh - You. You! Musty glass... When Not Husband By mistake. Then, amused You’ll remember. Eurydice, Imaginary Instrument There was no My Husband See? Eurydice! Elevator? S p e a k (To himself) I I think Amused, "when wedding my husband..." Her - swimming Orpheus Letter A letter Up in Letters For me? Funny You! His head - he plays amused, then Person Inside TheThe post acknowledges Orpheus Exits. Dead I feel Dripping I’m going You’re very- out. I am - Exits. home. She exits. Wedding, Remember? It’s like that. FUNNY She approaches - "It’ll pass" Eurydice! His Passes as H o m e l e s s It was to Race you! You should. “Tempting,” he whistles this time Isn’t this The underworld ? What Bee-bee, the string? Audience Thought: How aware. For me: Champagne, Dancing, Other Ones I want That Smile Itself a little, "Let’s Hate." Voila. (To himself) Stones Let me see Straight ahead Out I feel - Acknowledges, Never. Affectionate. You’re welcome. Don’t. Jokes, being sad Dancing, Melody, Glow-in-the-dark Remember: Glass of Dress up. Let’s tell a speech stories Um -- IIn a hurry Words of Sudden not Who is Eurydice? Opens the Room: Symphony, Purpose, Jokes Most beautiful - young Arrived You’ll Want My Bed You’ll be Expecting You’re sure? A platform Stone Most Trips To Greet Resemble Defunk Interesting man, Arm in arm Go to your husband. Letter to the ground. Tell me, Audience, After One glass Or two funny jokes? I’ll race you! Being sad is not allowed! How aware Very aware I grow downward.
A process also known as bibliomancy. Ed Simon writes a wonderful book of essays called “Binding the Ghost: Theology, Mystery, the Transcendence of Literature” and one of those essays covers bibliomancy - history, possible openings. The title is great - When Books Read You. If you wanna read the chapter I have it just email me.