owen-phillipsWhisper

American
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Galactic CompanionshipI provoke the rain of Hell / From Heaven high to earth below / There we'll float on gainful spells
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The Me Between MeLet out my ego and sense of order this comes from beyond this comes from the me between me if I listen I may hear it speaking, it's sleeping but talking and rocking, not still, and perhaps it awakens, perhaps it will open its eye but we mustn't depend on the idea that once he has opened his eye the whole dream of the world will just fade like my dream tomorrow morning which I already know I'll forget, like specific angles and perspectives of specific places in space and time that have slipped away but once in a while break through to consciousness / Like the sliding breakaway walls of Timber Drive elementary school / Or the rippling pond into which I fell and the old smile and laugh of my flesh and blood rescued me and held my body afloat in the air for a moment; and once I was the proud owner of a wind powered hovercraft, another invention spilling out onto the table of attention like the actual pig intestines the popular girl's parents used in her science fair project, the one that dragged on until the last monkey refusing to be locked up with the windows 98s in the archaic computer lab was tranquilized and convulsed on the gym/cafeteria floor in front of the PTA, who'd peed blood all down the front of their sweatpants; he was firing wildly hoping to commit suicide by zookeeper
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PM Automatic 3This trail leads to the animal crossing / It fails to accommodate intrepid adventurers, / Bushy tailed explorers, mountain climbers,
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Shakori HillsI know I've been there, / I've given into death and altered the fabric of reality / Every day we waste away transfixed by flattened images
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PM Automatic 2It's all gone out of me, the hammer falls and I'm not ready to answer / Trembling, weakness supporting a tub of jelly / The pollen-filled air flies past like the
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Epitaph……Now / With springing force / I was shot out into the future
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Hourglass NoveltyWith no expectation all's novelty / The new patterns don't astound us / We can stay in the middle of the river with our heads above the water
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How I Did ItI scribble on / With a half lobotomy; / A radar seeking Hell by looking up
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Reproductive IsolationWho do you think leads us / When we find it there at the top of the mountain / The sky a sweating forcefield
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Sacred MeetingEven though / The true meaning of these events / Is not the one to which I cling
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