Hibby Shake: Nada Dada (#1020)
Reading the lists results in desultory nauseam, in vibrotactile waves overcoming my hands — shaking — shaking arms, head, torso, legs.
I become gelatinous on an armature that settles solid into the grass. I can’t fall and I can’t stop shaking in place. Rapturous. Glorious. Orgasmic and spent all at once. Don’t move me. Don’t even approach me.
Place a boom mic over me — set the parabolic mics twenty yards away.
It’s the degustation of interpolation of godly nothingness and alien awareness. I am ringed in protoplasmic gold. I am inebrium sanctum nada dada.
Eat me when I stop shaking. Bring this otherness into your being.
I SPEAK in transpecies extraordinaire!
“SURREALISM, n. Psychic automatism in its pure state, by which one proposes to express — verbally, by means of the written word, or in any other manner — the actual functioning of thought. Dictated by the thought, in absence of any control exercised by reason, exempt from any aesthetic or moral concern.”
— Andre Breton / “Manifesto of Surrealism”