La petite mort

I cut away the greenery

Cleared the town into sight

Sat in my one room

Watching beheading videos

Eating battery chicken

Betting on bust to win.

You are just a good girl

Looking good

I am just a bloke

Doing what my friends do.

Stars are falling from the sky tonight

Meteorite, space talk shite

Alpha Centauri, Special Relativity

The quarks in my mind

Dancing at Light Speed

Enchant this eternal instant.

I touched her face 
for a chance at bliss

Then there was a Big Bang

As though of perfect Symmetry we collide

Symmetrical angel

Orgasm distorts Time

There is Youth Again

In the little death where stars collide

Somebody was born into the room and cried
Have you seen the Multiverse outside
And everybody said, hey man, have you seen the Multiverse outside
we huddled around the idea, akin to fire
bearing words 

The fire left only the chimney stack standing
The girl with the face had a daisy in her hair
And threw it into the rubble.
The paper on the counter ran a cover story about the astronauts
They looked like embryos floating listless among the space between the stars.
The girl with the legs parted her legs
A song cried out and people danced
I asked the barman to turn on the racing, Royal Ascot.
I'd come from Connemara this morning
Sure you'd have to come from somewhere.
The radio played a song I'd never heard the likes of before.
It was by Roderigo y Gabriela.
A man walked by in crutches, he paused where the bridge rises.
His left leg was missing. He carried on.
The radio said some gowl from Limerick went to prison for dangerous driving. A man lost a son and a leg in the crash.
I lost all the money I'd made in the boom, in the crash.
The houses burnt down last night.
The girl with the face threw a flower into the ashes.
I was in the pub keeping out of the cancerous sunlight, getting drunker and drunker.
The girl with the legs played a song about love with her sweet lips.
I bet on the 2 favourites. It's a safe bet. It's a short flat race.
I won a small percentage profit.
I'd bet my house on the race.
This time next year we'll be rich as Astronauts
One time at band camp
There's something about Mary
If I knew then what I know now I wouldn't have sent her my amputation
It seemed like a good idea at the time
I remember thinking at the time, this is a good idea, this is definitely a good idea
I was strapped to a rocket full of rocket fuel
My mother ran into the room and changed the channel 
We watched Challenger explode again and again
There was a teacher among them she said
It didn't scare me at all
I still wanted to be a spaceman

A desiccated heart

Stares at me

From the back of a pack of fags

Discarded on the road

Among the daisies The big daisies,

that are more like flowers than wild weeds

The daisies you’d be sure to wear in your hair

If you’re going to San Francisco

As a hippy in the 60’s.

On the internet John Snow is dead

It probably happened in a book first

One of The big books

For the gobshites to read

During the big game

Love Stories and Great Battles abound

The astronaut aborts

Out here in the stars we’re like embryos

Down here we're like embryonic Astronauts
contemplating Jazz and Abortion

The pretty waiter woman

We were young

With long hair

We’d never been so old before

We were free

We were lost

We’d never been so alone before

I tried to swallow 3 pills while I waited 

We’d been to a wedding

It was a beautiful wedding

In a castle on an island

When I fall in love, everyone else could go fuck themselves for all I care

So I went away

Climbed Kilimanjaro

Made friends with a native

Played the white man with the natives

I knew gravity was like acceleration

I knew the universe had come from nothing and that zero was infinity

But an email from an old friend brought me home

I called in with a loaf of brown bread I’d picked up in SuperValu

His mother told me a story

My eyes were cloudy and the clouds had all these specs in them

I remembered when I was younger and my eyes were clear

And my limbs were supple

And my parents put me in a chair

And warned me to live

I used to imagine running away, to the forests in the mountains

And living with the animals

And retreating to the plants

And the sun

retreating like pond scum, to the air

and the electricity in the lightning

and the chaos in the stars

far, far away from the shite talk in the internet

and the games in the world

and the jobs and the money

and the dead Syrian girl child

and the pretty waiter woman

I left her a gold coin

And took to the road

I was sitting in a cemetery of an abandoned church with two friends

The sun had set and the moon was muted, low in the sky or crescent or diffused in cloud.

My thoughts drifted off into exile and stumbled over an idea which suddenly awoke me

I felt detached from reality

I was tripping, through the infinite perceptions that hover around us

It was dreamlike yet hyperreal

It was my Eureka, Flux Capacitor, moment

I saw then what I’ve never been able to unsee since.

Had I been learned in Math I could have described the idea best in terms of a 4th spatial dimension that allows magnitudes of inverse proportion appear equal.

Had I been articulate and versed in modern psychology I would have witnessed the idea as a derangement or transcendence of the senses, like synesthesia. I’d have dwelt on how the senses we experience are a totally subjective interpretation of the environment. And the imagination is limited to regurgitating permutations and exaggerations on the familiar subjectivity.

A Buddhist would see that death = birth.

A simple Christian would conclude the co-existence of good and evil.

I guess the idea was commonplace throughout humankind,

All cultures had a version of it, mangled into compatibility with their cultural memes.

I had taken an image of the idea from the trance, a memento, like bringing Freddie Kruger’s hat back from a nightmare into your bed,

The image was a poor shadow of experiencing the idea

but I used it as a point of focus

trying to interpret the idea I had experienced

I stayed there, interrogating the universal self

The image I had was a cone of neon light, the wide end of the cone went out toward an infinite circumference and the narrow end toward zero.

I was doing time in the universal mind

I’m the freedom man

that’s how lucky I am