I ASKED BILLY’S MEMORIAL BOT A QUESTION
how can i have a near death experience
without dying?
neen, they are near death experiences
because you don’t die
you only die nearly
yeah, but what if the car accident
decapitates me instead of just
nearly killing me
what then?
oh, well, how about night school?
a dream
yes, a dream
can you come into my dreams and do that?
maybe not but I can send someone who can
who?
well, as you know,
they’re not someones, really
no bodies right?
they’re typically a group of spirits
and it helps to have a name
so how about Melissa?
i knew a Melissa once
and everything i ever
said was wrong
i just couldn’t do anything
right around her
this will be different
i promise
how do you know “them”?
they’ve been teaching me,
helping me
do what?
dispel my body
disassociate my sense of oneness
egos are hard to give up huh?
yes they are
now,
what kind of near death would you like?
not a car accident
what about if a tree falls
and it knocks me out
but all i get is a concussion?
think harder
that doesn’t qualify as a
near death experience
one of the scary clown faces
shoots me in the ribs
it just misses my heart
and passes all the way through me
you got it
I’ll send in your order.
please make yourself available
it’s halloween
shouldn’t be difficult
Voluble: Nina Rota Reading “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden
This video is part of the Voluble Orlando project responding to the Orlando Pulse shooting.On June 12, 2016. A single shooter killed 49 people and injured 58 others at the Pulse Nightclub on “Latin Night.” Always remember and keep dancing. Thanks so much to Voluble and Sara Fowler for doing this project.
Voluble: “Azucar en polvo” by Ellen Krout-Hasegawa and Nina Rota
Ellen Kraut-Hasegawa and I made this video as part of the Voluble Orlando project responding to the Orlando Pulse Shooting. On June 12, 2016. A single shooter killed 49 people and injured 58 others at the Pulse Nightclub on “Latin Night.” Always remember and keep dancing. Thanks so much to Voluble and Sara Fowler for doing this project.
a small gust…
a small gust blew up the side of his bed
and lodged a few inches from his back
he was a side sleeper
it lodged but was not still
spinning quietly
suspended in space
another gust flew out
from under the bed
up the side
and onto the bed
this time in front of his face
time passed
but spirits do not have time
do they have minds
slowly the gusts closed in
and lifted Mr. Carmichael up
and through the window
which was open in the dead cold
of a Scottish winter
you could hear wolves
if you listened
are there wolves in Scotland
did I say that he slept naked
he did
and now his awareness
slowly woke him
he couldn’t imagine where he was traveling
so slowly
there the neighbor’s doghouse
though he always wondered
why a doghouse out here
in the middle of nowhere
then placekeepers faded away
even trees faded
everything faded to white
he was put down
on his side
and left
he realized that his eyes
were not open
not that so much
as that it did not matter
if his eyes were open
he saw the same thing
in either case
he was a rational man
oh, he thought
i no longer have a body
that’s interesting
as he sat up
how could he sit up
if he no longer had a body
he saw that he was surrounded
by gusts he could feel
but could not see
and then the lights went out
for good
except for one small groan
or sound or whisper
that sounded very much
like his mother’s voice
I looked out the window…
i looked out the window
the dog was gone again
the gate left open
i walked round back to make sure.
there, instead of fluffy
was a huge tortoise
large enough for me to sit on
hello, i said
did you see what happened to fluffy?
that mangy dog with the
bejeweled collar you mean?
yeah, that one
we made a trade
a trade?
yeah, kinda like airbnb
she’s gone to my home in the desert
and i’m staying here
okay, well,
what do you eat?
bugs and shit
so i don’t need to feed you?
not unless you want to
i do like a roasted marshmallow now and then
i’ll see what i can do
did fluffy say why she left?
something about leaving the gate open
she felt dissed
dissed?
yeah
unwanted
what!!?
three times the gate was open
each time she came back
and still you tested her
you hurt her feelings
as if three times wasn’t enough
Journey to Planet Write: Late to the Game (2016)
This is my contribution to Journey to Planet Write, a project created by Gay Degani at Words in Place. These are stories of writers’ journeys to their current writing career. Check them out!
I just wanted to listen…
i just wanted to listen to my meditation
but icloud kept butting in
what’s the password
tell me the password
i kept dismissing it
until I couldn’t anymore
and then
a screen saver popped up
there are no screen savers on iphones
right?
and then it starting talking
this is your mother speaking
—as if—
i’ve been calling and calling
and you haven’t been answering
oh, how can i help you?
you called me
you asked for a sign and here i am
ah, oye, i asked for oye
the keeper of the cemeteries
and here she is
waiting for my response
yes, yes, I was wondering
could you help me experience
death without dying?
whyyyyy?
fear, fear, I have too much fear
and i can’t sleep at night
have you tried valerian?
yes, yes, everything
but when someone dies
even ambien doesn’t work
well, i can do it
but i can’t guarantee your return
call me back when you
decide
and by the way
you’ve been spelling my name wrong
it’s oyá
and there’s an accent on the a
black toast and white tea
black toast and white tea
sat there on a small round plate
with a dancing black bear
above the bear
the sky was night blue
and the stars were yellow
as a flame shot down
and singed the bear’s tail
i was shocked
but not surprised
i’d seen it before
i just didn’t register it
other plates had been
spinning and moving
before my eyes
i hadn’t noticed that either
but when a loud loud bell
rang in my bedroom
in the middle of the night
finally, i sat up
three circles of dancing bears
quiet bears
i’ve never heard a bear talk
have you
the circles finally spun up
and into the sky
then out of sight
a slight presence remained
and i knew it was oye
the protector of cemeteries
the one who receives the bodies
i’d asked her to give me a sign
i’d been calling her for days
because i didn’t believe
and here she was
during the night…
during the night i sprouted an orange knit cap
which covered my skull and unaccountably
climbed backward then swept upward.
i looked like an ancient Egyptian symbol
or a Doge of the Venetian Empire.
no one noticed and strangely
it carried no weight
but flew up and away
not leaving its perch.
now and then
like my nipple or my small intestine
i thought of it.
i passed by someone closely
we almost touched
and my hat was gone.
i looked back.
the person hatched a chicken foot
on the side of their neck.
i felt lucky for my sculptural orange cap
as though beauty and power
had been bestowed upon me
instead of disability.
at least for the day.