Democrat, Illinois - The ElectroLounge

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68 ! “I didn’t mean nothing! I like your show! It’s crazy but we watch it all the time here.” Dylan nods rather than disputing. “But we ain’t seen you on it in awhile,” speaks up another drinker. “Did you quit?” Dylan looks at Mr. Bob. He wipes the bar, spotless already, & decides. Removes his crazy colors apron & says, “Come along, Son.” “Hey! Don’t take him away! We like him!” “It’s a good show, kid!” Mr. Bob the barman takes Dylan’s hands & brings him through an old oaken doorway. He hears someone behind him say “Aww Jeez, he’s being brought to the hippy druggies. Us boozers ain’t good enough!” The bar disappears as they pass through. Dylan breathes hard & keeps walking. !"#$%#&'()#$*$+,$*$-.&#$/001! ! lxvi. The space between things collapses ever more, space & time no longer ever potent illusions, it’s nice really, how things can reveal, how the truth embedded funny in things can burst out. I find myself in a locked room far, dark but my flashlight, looking over old notebooks, wondering over how the years left little else but these— Mind flows through body flows through mind, a oneness preached foul against by gurus & cultists—what then of Art? Am I not these ragged sheaves of paper? I’ve never thought answers can be found easily, that it could be held whole in a glittering cup. More like truths enough for all, unlimited, contradictory— These notebooks I’m holding are still far, space & time not undone yet— the mystery of the visible world looms cozy in the nuzzle of the greater invisible one— lxvii. A tall ship on a taller sea, balance adjusts every moment to each tip & sway, many people on board, the air is cold but dances the skin without claws— No land anywhere as though land does not exist, never did, just this ship & its unseen path to somewhere, rise fall glide lurch— Nobody speaks or stand too near each other, what is all this? What be? What kind of shape? Why a sky above neither dark not light? Where was there, that other place, & the one before that, & earlier? How does this keep happening? What life, whereto? I’m not scared, I just don’t know, at the moment I feel pending but maybe just more than always— Now something happening it’s been minutes, hours, what that there? Another? Hustle & shouts, fear or at least a lot of noise & it’s a large ship too, I think, did I really see? Now I am pushed by others below deck, only the soldiers remain above to fight—
! Soldiers? Fight what? Nobody protests, was this expected, is this how people are, triggers to any voice calling out “crisis! run!” I didn’t think so but here we are hustling downstairs to rooms below, shouts gone, now all is silence & crowded people pushed up together, the men with worn bearded faces, the women covered in shawls, I wonder how close they remain to the trouble above, & press along, further down— fewer people now & something good in this, I’m tired of it, the feeling the world is a farm & we feed like pigs & stand stupidly within pens waiting for more— I don’t feel like I’m walking but I move along, spaces open out, roads, trees, a running figure once, & later again, where bound? Is this still a ship? How did I get here? What is this place? Why don’t people ask, demand to know! I arrived here with no answers & the only ones I ever hear involve suffering & vague reward, & people nod & take up their oars, feed silently, brood but only in dreams & sickness, & in youth— It’s fading, what was it? How can its years go so easily? Where now? Where to? Music. People. My friend looking at me. I think of him as a friend because he looks at me with love. He’s a person who is good at that. So I call him my friend with hope inside me. Ah. ! lxviii. I look down & ache at it again, something not like fiction anymore, I truly don’t know what, pen swabs page with words & days go— I write: “World boils in broken blood” & marvel at its sound & sense & disgust at any beauty come from suffering, then wonder what else could, suffering & beauty what oppose in this world? one could say so but wonder what else missing, Not enough to fill pages, or pass painless through the many hours, or alone care when caring’s a fine welcome thing— Not enough to rub the world a little this way & that, loose something up but not so much a roll begins— Not enough these notebooks & their years of cries—more, I think, more, not knowing what or how— Boils in broken blood, maybe that’s best I can do, maybe one presses back the world how it presses first— Weakness, a want to rave higher, to call it all to a blessed point—what? what? Little happens but exchange of day & night— true? Everything happens by exchange of day & night— better? Not enough. I wonder how to make a ragged sheaf matter. 69 !"#$%#&'()#$*$+,$*$-.&#$/001!
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Dear Senator Obama, Letter to Unite
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We lost hope when we were told we c
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Assistant Editor: Kassandra Soulard
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! ! B Is for Body Ralph H. Emerson
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! give it dirty names, and they’r
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! Bloggs and Mrs. Blizzard in one o
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! 3 A.M.—Dave’s Backyard I can
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! Memories of Grandfather An older
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! Mano Nano Sometimes you’re a pa
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! ! Serendipity is a Happy Accident
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! The newcomer looked like Joss, th
Page 25 and 26: ! xxxi. Remedial ! Many Musics seco
Page 27 and 28: ! xxxiv. News from War Small bombs
Page 29 and 30: ! xxxvii. Curvilinear Soft, tend th
Page 31 and 32: ! xxxix. All Night What cracks the
Page 33 and 34: ! xlii. Full Moon Over Desert Tonig
Page 35 and 36: ! xliv. Tumult’s Fine [Jackson Po
Page 37 and 38: ! Genes & chance number up the worl
Page 39 and 40: ! li. Tameless Hours First is music
Page 41 and 42: ! Some eat others, of their wills,
Page 43 and 44: ! Nothing returning. Nothing’s go
Page 45 and 46: ! lvii. Testimonie Wherefrom hints,
Page 47 and 48: ! Ecstasy, where not fruited on one
Page 49 and 50: ! “What purpose?” I cry again t
Page 51 and 52: ! ! Gabriel Garcia Marquez A Very O
Page 53 and 54: ! that shipwreck disorder that made
Page 55 and 56: ! sunny days. He remained motionles
Page 57 and 58: ! Look up, America! Anger’s been
Page 59 and 60: ! Virginia City, Nevada The Comstoc
Page 61 and 62: ! “MOVEMENT! MOVEMENT!” This is
Page 63 and 64: ! ! Why ? [a new fixtion] (continue
Page 65 and 66: ! I look out her window & for a mom
Page 67 and 68: ! wolves shaped like boys stormed t
Page 69 and 70: ! Step three. Follow the shepard. U
Page 71 and 72: ! manse crowded with sick & broken
Page 73 and 74: ! “What, Doctor?” “Where is R
Page 75: ! Now in several layers of clothing
Page 79 and 80: ! “Hey ya crazy loon! You wanna t
Page 81 and 82: ! Rebecca comes upon him like she w
Page 83 and 84: ! ! lxxv. John enters the White Woo
Page 85 and 86: ! “This is sabotage! This is not
Page 87 and 88: ! Dreams that keep from days long g
Page 89 and 90: ! light” ! lxxx. “You left in a
Page 91 and 92: ! This is a new kind of alone. He a
Page 93 and 94: ! He tests & there is the pain he e
Page 95 and 96: ! “This is different. You’re go
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Page 99 and 100: ! It wasn’t me—I sat safe in a
Page 101 and 102: ! ! Judih Haggai There are bombs, t
Page 103 and 104: ! I wanna be a big time New York wr
Page 105 and 106: ! ! Raymond Soulard, Jr. Notes from
Page 107 and 108: ! ! 99 May 6, 2008 Portland, Oregon
Page 109 and 110: ! ! 101 May 13, 2008 Portland, Oreg
Page 111 and 112: ! The option to feeling too much, &
Page 113 and 114: ! Penury World evolves an hour to a
Page 115 and 116: ! Clean Leaves everywhere shake & I
Page 117 and 118: ! ! ! Sleepwalk This is the time fo
Page 119 and 120: ! This Train Terrified, balancing o
Page 121 and 122: ! ! Psychedelic Reality: CydelikSpa
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Page 125 and 126: ! for any individual or entity. The
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119 Notes on Contributors Ric Amant
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