i wake in the holograph

[Alan Sondheim]

i wake in the holograph


i wake in the holograph and storm to the computer i am ready for
conversion. the screen won't let me in. the program-net beckons. the
screen is flat like a door is flat. i think now i will never arrive. it
remains inert like the real is inert. i write in complete silence except
for the sound of 'type'. my hands tremble and are these words correct. my
life is a continuous correction. my life is a continuous erasure. i can
almost hear you. i can almost see you. there is something uncanny about
the flatness.:i am always in the state of erasure. my thoughts are in the
way of my thoughts. i continue to shudder. i i i i i you can never get
enough of it. jennifer helps on my left and nikuko on my right. why can't
i see everything upside down instead of left right reversed. nikuko and
jennifer double. it is said that everything has its counterpart which
devours it. what is not know that the devourer is also devoured by the
devoured. the world is lamina - animal not vertical lacitrev. :this flat
screen where i work alone. i collaborate badly. i bristle. my thoughts
infuriate me. when someone talks 'behind my back' they are in front of me.
my work is constantly signing off. today i thought today i shall surely
die. nothing happened but the need of codeine. emmett grogan was born on
my block. willie sutton lived down the street. grogan writes about sutton
and died young. i am always in the state of waiting.:there are lips
slightly parted and slightly drawn:there are lips and curtains drawn there
are flat worlds


Does this flat screen where i work alone. i collaborate badly. i bristle.
my thoughts infuriate me. when someone talks 'behind my back' they are in
front of me. my work is constantly signing off. today i thought today i
shall surely die. nothing happened but the need of codeine. emmett grogan
was born on my block. willie sutton lived down the street. grogan writes
about sutton and died young. i am always in the state of waiting. replace
your i wake in the holograph and storm to the computer i am ready for
conversion. the screen won't let me in. the program-net beckons. the
screen is flat like a door is flat. i think now i will never arrive. it
remains inert like the real is inert. i write in complete silence except
for the sound of 'type'. my hands tremble and are these words correct. my
life is a continuous correction. my life is a continuous erasure. i can
almost hear you. i can almost see you. there is something uncanny about
the flatness.?


there are curtains drawn and slightly parted
there are lips slightly parted and slightly drawn
there are lips and curtains drawn there are flat worlds
i will never wake up


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