i. THE DATA COLLECTORS & THE STEEL CORSET 

They are acting like they have something to prove to Nature herself, some bullish thing they need to rub in her face. The big metal tool is tightening around the soft object at the waist, cranking from all directions - we're bulging, ribs are getting pushed aside. What's the point of being a doll in in this black-magic hypnosis. I don’t want any more numbers attached to my name. You scan my fingers, my pupils - how strange and violent. Make me into a monochrome statistic in your barcode city. I don’t want to live here. I don’t want to disperse into a clone wafting through your strange land. I’m sick of being pressurized and documented. Please, no more airport machines X-Raying my organs. No more photographic evidence of evil butchering the flowers in my mind.  I don’t want to take their pills to keep up. I love, and believe in the creatures of the earth, even if they mock me for it. Why are they trying to kill us all the time? 

 

ii.  THERE IS ROOM FOR EVERYTHING 

The rocks cut my feet but the sun is warm on my face, the salt stings my cuts but the sea is alive. I’m unsure why I'm so rigid in the flowing water.  I'm cramming so much in the air of my life, I'm reaching to touch it, and the world is crawling all over me. Where can I unroll my mind — which doctor has a comfortable chair and will look me in the eyes?  The more I see, the more I untether from feeling real.  I think I should go away from men and people and everyone who expects something of me, especially good behaviour. I am in the immobile underground, my gaze will not move, my eyes grab onto tiny things and try to make other worlds. 

 

iii.  THE WHITE COLD BLOOD OF THE SUN 

I think of gazelles and zebras running in groups: the music of innumerable hooves drumming the earth, the blood, joy and endurance in their hearts, and the force which animates it. I imagine their heaving lungs and bristled pelts, the oxygen and minerals in their bloodstream, their sharp, shameless knowings.  I wonder where it comes from.  It could have fallen out of a heart. A broken heart, an open heart, a heart broke open.  Blood, joy and animals pouring forth - saints, swamps, and diseases. Why did life choose to disperse itself into masses of proliferating bodies, all dying together in great churning symphony? Why are we are all dying in unison forever?  Maybe this disconcerting death-carnival of bugs, computers and people is the only way that we may become PureLight together, finally blend into one body. Destroying ourselves to re-open the Heart. The zebras, Me, You, our great uncles, the technology gods we've conceived in the stew of our collective worship, infant mice, eyeglasses which are also cameras, the Nile River…