Mar 23, 2008 01:55
The scratching of thought-corners on the linoleum surfaces of the skull.
A spongy bloody body fiber, like the blood-soaked lining of the uterus before menstruation. That is the anatomy of the word. A living thing, writhing, juicy, absorbent, easily sloughed off. Should be sloughed off-monthly. Uterine. Uterine disturbance. The word is the abdominal pain that will not leave until it gets flexed out in a carnal process, like peristalsis. Blood loss, iron loss--fatigue, anger, volatility, volubility. A kind of agony to PRODUCE, to give life to a thought.
The expulsion of unfertilized thoughts is easy. It is when a thought gets fertilized, meets its complement, when it gets too big to come out. Can’t drip out in cramps, but becomes worse even--a parasite. Growing, eating, expanding and dividing until it is too big to roll out, but has to be squeezed out. Wracked out of the body, birthed. Colossal, turbid and still. A loud crack on the dirty kitchen floor, and then a gaping hole down into the earth.