Previously.....'darling, they've found the body' comes from a series of dreams - a
body is buried beside a house, a house on stilts, the body has lain
there for many years, i always knew it was there but consciously
obscured it from view by willfully dimming the lights, the body is my
body and i have been murdered by my 'once upon a time' lover turned
keeper, i scrimshaw this dream onto liz bonami, the blonde dream doll
with pernicious eyes least i forget (when i lived on a boat my father
would scrimshaw ships and birds and the letters of our names onto
whales teeth we bought from a danish bank robber, we would sell these
to buy food and make necessary repairs), my apparent self imposed
incarceration means i scratch messages onto the walls of my cell as i
wait out my final hours, i try to make sense of the floating debris of
letters, unpaid bills and medical records that seem surely to be a poor
suggestion of a life, i self portrait the face that accuses me and
demands that i make good my escape, while i sit ludicrously passive
watching the pot boil dry, and yet another dream the early hours of
this morning 13.08,07, this time my keeper has committed a double
murder, a black man and a white woman, still i sit passive as
thunderous traffic bares down upon mescott died, he's the boy in the red shorts, taking a sunsight with a
sextant, i loved him, i had the best days of my life with him, swimming
with sharks in tide races and running wild on desert islands, that kind
of thing, he was killedi look for him endlessly (i leave messages for him everywhere i go, i
leave letters stuck on lamp posts)my sewing machine enables a solipsist god complex to spin out her own
creation myth, where time stops and 'the one who knows' will come
riding by on his ship, up the iron river and i will be waiting there in my gingham dress pretty
as a pictureso here i am, an impenetrable snaggle toothed old crone stirring the
secrets of my omniverse, erstwhile carefully nursing a cinderella
complex as i run her rust bucket ship onto the rocksin the meantime i keep the mule fed and the wolf from escaping, the
butterflies are notches on my belt as 39 years flutterbyi am reminded of a dream where i live alone in a beautiful cottage in
the forest in bavaria, by day i paint self portraits with a solipsistic
narcissism, by night i hunt, i am a wolverinei am reminded of another story - a woman sitting on her roof because of
the floods, the water is rising fast, she has been told by God to wait
there for a miracle, three times a man comes by in a boat to rescue her
and each time she says 'no, God has told me to wait here for a
miracle', the water levels continue to rise and the woman drowns, when
she gets to heaven she stands accusingly before her God and says why
did you not perform the miracle that you promised me and her God says i
came by three times and each time you sent me away.... kjg x
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