- What is there to be blue about, little pasture doll? The world shrieks but you’re with a family who loves you, look ahead at the stretching of the world… don’t you see it stretch out for you? Don’t you see it wink? Why do you fold your face like that, why of you bite your cheek… you’re so little and the sun is shining today, you’re a fruit on the angel tree.  The world is shrieking but you are young, and have soft blonde hair.

 

- Sir, the shrieking of the world is rearranging the magnetic fields of my body, even if it’s true that I am young and have soft blonde hair. I’m so confused, and bruised inside my chest, I bruise so easily. I’m also aflame with salted electricity and somewhat turned on by the whole thing. Yesterday it became evident that I'm an outcast, generally speaking. I can't catch the conversational ball — I try to soothe my eyeballs, but they’re bladed. I feel

quite alone, you see, and I am rearranged by all this pain in the air. Yes, my hair is soft today and I’ve strolled through international circles, but the shrieking of the world is drugging my vision. It’s everywhere, I feel it rise from the cement and hear it click in the A.T.M and see it burrowing in the eyes of my beloved lonesome friends. I don’t knowvhow I’d make arrangements to have a baby in this delirium.  I had a strange dream last night. I was in a grocery store in the wee hours of the morning. There was a huge blue rosebud, Napa cabbage and an oversized head of lettuce. I thought to myself “it wouldn’t be so bad to live here, among the vegetables”.

 

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My love; soon we will part: meet me in my parents backyard, ten after three, I have a robins egg in my pocket and I want to go to the heather fields. You know, that furry plant that smells like womb when you crack the stem.  It’s autumn, there are brown leaves gathered around the canoe. My heart is breaking with loneliness even though you are here, because I love you and you are tragically beyond my skin. If I were a child I’d scream right now, and the adults would be scold me for screaming at nothing. The air is clear and empty. Things are preparing to hibernate but I will not because of this unspecified desire inside. Soon I will be alone with it, my heart is shrieking. Lets go out, lets enjoy this moment, my guts are twisting and I love you. At home, afterwards, there will be potatoes and fish. Do you also feel like you’re filled with greasy serpents? I’ll sit in your lap. It’s autumn and the air is wide and I don’t care about the economy. My voice is scratched and I’m sad and at peace.