Poetry
・disclaimer
・Words and Days
・Breakdown breakthrough
・Constitutional Satire
・The Silk Pantry
・Feathers Plastered on the Wound
・Autumn Scene
・Filth and Time
・Zen Song (p.s)
Prose
Collections
Stories
Disclaimer: Everything is fictitious especially the most personal confessions, as the author herself is Fictitious. All resemblances to any particular Reality is purely coincidental. The author reserves the right to exist in the reality of her choosing. The author reserves the right to change, revoke, rework, broadcast on television, kill, or retitle any of the pieces included in this collection. This will always be in accordance to Local, Provincial, Federal, Continental, Planetary and Galactic Law; and completely dependant on the current instinct of the author, which is always legal in her Fictions world. It may be considered that we each decide what to believe, and thus, may move between Fiction and Non-Fiction depending on our current circumstances and mental orientations. The author takes no responsibility for how the reader to Chooses to perceive these writings, as it is the readers responsibility to Choose how to maneuver their own minds. It is completely legal to use this collection as toilet paper should the reader discern it necessary. The author supports and encourages experimentations with the concept of Choice and the malleability of reality.
Words and Days
all this talk is tiresome
it’s too broke and too late
all these words and all these sounds
to just get one thing straight:
"who are you to think I’d cling
to any safe protective thing
you think I can’t yell for myself?
you think I’m homesick for a shelf?"
"It’s clear that you ain’t wired well
I’ve walked the meadows round your hell
and I can’t stand your electric brain
You expect everything”
words and sounds and days and years
distillation of our fears
words and sound and years and days
work for time and work to play
city life busts my brain
country life clogs the drain
all alone I’d go insane
try again, try again
the princess on the sunny hill
has got my name etched in her will
I’ll find the path to her someday
work for time and work to play
I loved you once, sure I did
shut the box and lock the lid
the days are short the nights are long
nothing’s right and nothing’s wrong
Breakdown Breakthrough
prelude
My depression is Cured! The past is the past! I am not having an (X) crisis I’m having an (X) breakthrough. It is suddenly obvious: changing ones mind will change ones life. A simple equation: drugs work this way, and propaganda, technology, art, devotion… It’s suddenly so simple and obvious. It’s a way to begin.
✦
Just as I say my depression is fixed
the infernal jazz players start spinning their tricks
I stain my best dress
this place is a mess
and that creature inside of me kicks
✦
Breakdown-breakthrough
as you curse your old horseshoe
the world turned to gold
just as was foretold
by the buddhas who always knew
Constitutional Satire
They care about us, they worry and care
a breed so selfless, and sadly, so rare
They’ve been studying you know, and all for us
so we can live well, have something to trust
they made us computers, security tapes
without them we’d be like monkeys or apes
no money, no time, no family estates
who do you think puts trash on your plate?
they're working for Us, they're solving our pains
they're inventing new stains for innocent brains
without them we’d be like monkeys - or worse
needing to learn how to worship the Earth
so give thanks for those men
and the order they keep
for extra-large hotdogs
and permission to sleep
✦
Why act surprised when you find that I’m ill?
You’ve been feeding me only plastic and pills
then give me pen, to sign my short will
and a twelve thousand dollar medical bill
Blue Erotica
The Silk Pantry
my body smells erotic
there is no lover near
I’m edible & I’m alone
in a silk brassiere
I wake up wanting to feed you
to remember I can feel
let me sweetly kindly
prepare you a sweet meal
sex warms my collarbones
hunger lurks the air
I’m edible & I’m alone
a Lady’s cross to bear
didn’t mean to hurt you — or myself
get back in the can and back on the shelf
Feathers Plastered on the Wound
Someone is pressing
my body against something
which smothers my thoughts
& delivers me from considering
nauseous realities of aging eyeballs,
betrayal, and permanent stains
curly gold head
lamb in the bed
smiling thru pain
laughing and slain
Clear Glass
Black Frame
New Body
Ancient Game
Now my teeth are covered
Now my molars are soft
Now its settling in the ditches
Now its glazing the canal
Autumn Scene
my pelvis is cavernous
like the swale of a snail
dragonfly clicks
cream berries drip
from a blood coloured tip
Filth and Time
Everything is dirty
and I can’t get it on time
I want another cigarette
and coffee in my wine
I want to be a spiral
lunatic and free
theres a snake around my thigh
he says he’s got the key
I’ve got a vault of visions
that I silently declare
my collage of psychic matter
a hopeful, desperate prayer
See me, Love me
I’ll give it all to you
I’m overwhelmed by filth and time
and homesick for the Truth
Zen Song
Every day the dream renews
this is good and exhausting news
I try to be a mountain stream
something consistent through the dream
I try to love the doors that close
trust and pray that something knows
(why)
✦ post script, there is space:
THERE IS SPACE FOR ALL OF ME WITHIN IT
THERE IS SPACE FOR ALL OF IT WITHIN ME
FLURRIES OF DOVES is a love letter world that is rotting and blooming ceaselessly and all at once; a celebration of the wonder that lives - and gives off light, and warmth- between the teeth of indifferent tragedy. An enormous and baffled love seeps through and stains the page.
It is composed of fifteen poems written by Alyssa Bunce and photography by Brin Schoellkopf, spanning from 2021-2023.
The Teachings of Miraculous Fish
excerpts
vii.
in a vision I see
the centre of the earth
as a heart
pumping the tears of saints
thru underground springs
that defy odds
making it to the surface
splitting the crust of hatred
x.
maybe one day
I will laugh so hard
that I vomit up fear
and the grin in the sky
will unravel before me
and we will laugh together
May I Believe the World is Good?
excerpts
How will I survive if I forget that the world is good? I mean to tread her body collecting proof, so I’ll stay alive; like when I found a robins egg vacated in the sandy sage, I held it in my hand while I walked, and when I laid it on the earth, I laid my own body beside it and overhead an eagle circled in wide glory. Once a four year old led me by the hand to a pasture of newborn goats suckling their mother. I saw a cactus clinging to a slope slouched in a brilliant sculpture, and even as that man spoke to me of horror, a puppy slept beside me curled in a heavenly knot. The original atom, the innermost seed, had particles bouncing inside it but it was mostly empty space, 99.9% empty space. It’s gone on expanding and proliferating from the inside out creating larger forms that are also mostly empty space, and invisible birds flit through the allies of infinity between particles and most of the world is emptiness, hot with secret benevolent law which cannot be spoken. The ants scuttling in subterranean masses have a declaration painted in their empty-space brains saying “The world is Good. She has Always Been Good. We will all be fossils or worm excrement or ocean sludge soon, and the World is Good.” The ancient fish creature clumsily navigating the primordial water said “I Must Live” and the water was frigid and all it saw was pale blue and it pushed out legs and bloomed lungs and dragged itself into the shock of oxygen.
