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| RTomens, 2017 |
'This world of rusted words...of spook time past where years go zigzagging...
Recollections coagulate...patterns form...I hear echoes from the sewers...glimpse the shadow of fatality within me...
I act out this dream...my lips are dead; my bones are rusted...I smell foul decay rising from the streets...day and night spent chasing the vague mirage called reality...
I’m in a drifting circuit...looking into insanity.... the technological human interface...digital vibrations felt through space...familiarity with space travel breeds contempt - I’m scarred by all the left, right, forward and backward schemes. Time is the imagination of today, yesterday and tomorrow.
Years journeying...the Milky Way torture chain…the sullen sweet, scorched and withering memories...the transmission of years where far stars wait in dreams.... alien pulses...longing eyes will fight and kill - enslave galaxies...
Let me weep in death...cold in breath - I’m still reeling from the universe - multiple versions of memory...the peculiar quality of so-called reality is tucked away in some obscure outer arm of the solar system.
Earth withering, transforming inexorably - turn, tired brain, weep again…
Studying the Milky Way - radio signals - alien intelligence deafening - engineering sunlight - nuclear waste in the stratosphere. Pioneer memories reveal species, reveal galaxies and civilisations within reach - signals in space describing the stars...
I long to turn off my tired brain...
This work of fiction is a bastion of dead memories that refuse to remain buried....'
Shadows, Robin Tomens
(tags: william burroughs, brion gysin, cut-ups, abstract art, cut prose, science-fiction)
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