Written by Biff Mitchell
he called it arrival
a cross dimensional jump he said into a place or a state or a “just knowing” the arrival
that was when he could still talk
when he was still knowing here, and still knowing the cubes and spheres of three dimensions
of things that could be described he said in the cubes and spheres of here
these things he called the disjointed broken speech of half realities foundering on a plateau of meanings
crippled and foundering he said, flat, formless and lifeless compared to arrival
all around us he said, look, vibrations in a pool, crinkles and folds, just floundering around in the pool
and we’re drowning in the pool he said, drowning in the flip flop of broken meanings
arrival he said would be painful but not nearly as painful as the dull gray swatches of ordinary here and now
fuck the sureness of straight lines and smooth curves he said, screw the rules and the fixed
perspectives, the safety of the knowable ordinary, the slow death of sameness
he dissolved them, melted the lines and the curves, axon by axon, dendrite by dendrite, as his brain
dissolved into a pool of new meanings, disconnected in the field of his arrival
in there, once, close to arrival, he saw an ancient Indian wandering through the woods
his body disintegrating with each step, and all the parts of him falling to the ground
fingers and ears falling to the ground, seeping into the ground part by part
and the last part of him to seep into the ground was his smile
I am that beautiful Indian he said seeping into the porous ground of arrival
he went back again and again, to arrival, to be that Indian, to escape the cubes and spheres
of here he said and seep visit by visit into the knowing of his arrival until there was nothing left of
here to seep into there, into the rich red earth of arrival
and now his eyes stare into a place where he dances on the ceiling of his mind
and yells I’VE ARRIVED
Text © Biff Mitchell
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Thank you!
You’re welcome Ari. This one started off as a short story, then a poem, back to short story and finally a poem.
I like the way this musing lands in the arrival of my consciousness! Thank you Biff.