BRENT BECHTEL
Brent Bechtel is a writer, editor, and critic. His work has been published at the Muse Apprentice Guild in the form of a serialized column (Quantum Connectivity), as well as poetry. He has also published poems at Fine Print Mag (fineprintmag.com), and has poetry appearing in an upcoming issue of Big Bridge.
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A NATURAL SOURCE OF ANXIETY PRUNES MY ROOTS.
Roman armies bleed over inkblots - trickling sound -
with diet pills - humanism and heart disease -
(Voltaire had both sexual drive and a body) -
The mirror shows the absence of plants in the valley -
only stone markers - Episcopal priests carrying topiaries;
offering history professors Zyprexa.
Dormant in the sediment of my blood: grand columns -
entire civilizations - my throne is far more universal -
working as God's organ in Versailles.
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THE FIRST SIX HOURS.
Policeman threw the author
into the hands of Siva at five o'clock,
and we were published far to the west
The scene before the doorway
darted around wounded and bandaged rocks,
where the righteous stood
Horned and glorified
Worshippers gathered under plague
and mourned the injured dictionary,
binding their own feet
in hopeless ritual,
Chanting in unison:
"Free love is like a barking dog,
and there is no human condition -
For I am the woman and the herd
in this world of common clay -
This land ploughed by the devil,
whose rod was driven into language,
Such that scholars fled into the groves,
and the marshes were consumed with fire."
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A MOMENT ENDS AN ALE.
I'd been interested in Bethany
since she gave me the theorem
and the checksum on the dance floor.
So when we met in the machine,
traveling at high speed,
I knew we were in for a function
previously undefined.
That night was full
of uploads and multipliers,
infinite games, advanced verbosity.
Several beers later, down at the inn,
the floor fell through
and we formulated a bamboo forest
using the processor she supplied.
There among the leaves,
she resisted the urge to tease.
--------
BODY CLAMP RIPPED OFF
CheckSum #0000001:
********** I've been
interested in. Doughn't
Wright, 2. (see [1, p.
323). if we, (\Gamma 1)
Mmm want some Bethany.
This is given as theorem
ANTHROPOCENTRIC AS THE I
AM BACK...I HAVEN'T. X
dance floor Several
beers later The Inn fell
quiet.
CheckSum #0000002:
That he called,
comments? Chris grabbed
hips slammed.
Whereabouts of the, -_
formulating anyway
Instead. I=1 1 Y. The
rules that the BIT SLICE
PROCESSORS). Proof: If f
is. -----------------
aaron- something other
than the (you'll need an
Upload)..
CheckSum #0000003:
2 f (d) (8) ------------
-----aaron-. Stepped up
terry hear noise too, of
partitions of n that
<<<<<<<.
Definition 4 let q(n) BY
COMPUTERS,
speaking,quantum. Odd,
let, bamboo forest
through Subject: Ham
Fair. <<<<, j
+*+*+*+*+*+*.
CheckSum #0000004:
Remark: note that b a
rate looking one more
thing go. M; r 2 n with
r * 2; m *, (2) implies
n. = with more than one
(0)=1. Pretty in the
larger (D) ? 0 but jDj
is not Terry abruptly
grabbed. Previously
defined." in smile boys.
CheckSum #0000005:
***********************,
wrong on disk!!
Wheeee!!!! So. Function
on h principle come all.
Know, for a moment, but
the n. -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-
_-_-_-_- around itself
as he boards,you mean
there is. Function.
last.
CheckSum #0000006:
That ends in . assume,
want to investigate the
finished my ale (I
drink. Worked, for
example, involves WOW!
SUCH VERBOUSITY!. And
here's my time (n)
denote the number of AND
NO COMPLANTS. )= Pic(X
not. Itself over and be
gone for the djn.
CheckSum #0000007:
Through now crowded
dance floor 2 get room
relatively decided
linger. ---------------
- Tron. Resist urge
tease
<<<<<<<<<<<.
Starting driving wild
told OF THE MACHINE
COULD BE want forth dick
reached up. (\psi ) to
u equals the, ----------
------------- theorem
regarding odd.
CheckSum #0000008:
Corner farthest from,
saying is that the
nq(n)x. X such that h,
SO DON'T TELL ME THAT
he's the one with. Km,
LIKE A MAN! "And the
fourth day. (\psi ) is
invariant,
<<<<<<<<<<<
COMPUTER, ONE COULD.
Stock market panic. see
presume she.
CheckSum #0000009:
Defined as an infinite =
and sup.. N . VERY HIGH
SPEED ( forth dick
reached up. & c - do
it, Mathmatical games
and n=0. In fact,it
isn't the neighbourhood
U of s. Up "capable of
appropriate.
Information and what im
looking for rjm.
CheckSum #0000010:
P, n (n) denote the
number of. Advanced
lsi) ...$ .... BRUCE
TABOR. Voice marline,
PARTICIPATED IN THE TOO,
LONG TERM AND. Sat
globes left chick's
mouth d guys. 1 Time is
repeating Mince,.
CheckSum #0000011:
< stay away from the
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^. 0
with (!) * d; being
truly. Could feel it
damn hard mouth loved
now church big. To do,
zzz,when we have finaly
sending (r. Aaron .
VERY HIGH SPEED (.
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MEET MY SEXUAL GEOGRAPHY.
Every day you're planning for an aneurysm -
You think:
"The violence in our lives is freedom to others -
my neural tube means nothing to the world."
Couldn't we really just say it's easy to feel power,
and curse every member of the bleeding mortality rate?
At least your lover looks like he's suffering -
mine won't even carry the zygote -
you must understand this -
(at least in terms of operational control.)
The structures are so powerful -
developing vertebrae poke through muscle.
We are helpless.
DNA grows between the text bodies, and we hide our faults.
The clots form a portion of your brain
that will not empower you,
but you continue to rest on the lumen.
I will remain silent while my heart compresses blood,
branching under free life, only of your own.
--------
CEREBRAL COR{E}[TEX(T)].
By calling attention to the margins of a text, one can see the universality
of
the human body, and in the nucleus - mutations, rhythmicity.
Consequently, humans generally live longer when the fibers of the reader
survive incongruent modalities.
Recent years have made power relations intangible without paddles, and yet,
irrefutable.
In fact, there is now understood a temporal meaning attributable to synaptic
clusters.
My technique may seem soft on words, and it is true - many docile and
articulate twigs may be required to complete the coupling.
In the meantime, you may wish to perch on the synapse, and be shaped by the
rhythmic, alternating current.
--------
WE REACHED CRITICAL MASS ON A NEARBY ISLAND.
I felt warm when she loved me beyond my symbolic form - but when she left, I
walked for several months - wondering aloud, "Who is this that I have loved?
I miss what she revealed." - withdrawn - but visionary - pulled outward from
within the world (which conceals a fountain, though not _the_ fountain) - I
knew that I would be alone in this city for the duration of our lives - and
on Sunday afternoons, I was left in torment, absent of her voice. Of our
travels, (which I have recounted elsewhere) - we made love in many villages,
all along the way to the mouth of the Yangtze.
Our last summer was spent preparing for life, devastated by government
surveillance and repression. I recall how she chose a beautiful, pink fabric
for the curtains in our room, and remember our youth, meandering in love.
She promised to remain demure, and I promised not to speak of what I could
not define. The meaning and the tribulation - of these we soon would sing -
and of sorrow, for the clever costuming of tenderness. Two or three years
passed between us - and, despite everything - (ah, do not think we did not
_try_) we still did not begin to speak Chinese.
--------
I AM NOT CREASED IN THE HEAD
I am not creased at the head, nor am I breathtaking when confronted with
strangulation - the rare misery of a promise completely exhausts my
brutality. We should escape and drown before the sad faces have a chance to
appear in fogged car windows. The mood is still too anxious and thoughtful.
I have written whole books of hymns about ligature marks and abraded my
memoirs,
reflecting on the decade - researching personal narratives - reconstituting
grief and oxygen - freeing the human race from its leather outfit packed
with illicit drugs - but I am always testing positive for innocence and
risk. The river is swollen today, spent with passion. Flawless inhumanity -
I can smell it. I should practice drowning while in character, so it does
not seem so accidental. Blood pressure, fractures, x-rays of the desert
southwest. When I actually lived, it was in the deep woods, absent my tank
of oxygen. American literature has always resulted in mournful singing and a
feeling of choking. Agony subject to piety - yearning for a link to ruin.
--------
52-WEEK HIGH HEELS
Americans increasingly understand
our need to subpoena the Internet
We have been exposed to hundreds
of peer-to-peer networks
by the genome -
Sequences that are not yet known -
We have revealed
several popular nightmares
We have downloaded
over 650 million base pairs
without accounting for the mouse
We have withheld providing
significant information
Danger waits for us,
like the unveiling
of a public hearing.
Citizen spokesmen
may still unmask the terminally ill
Chief Executive Officers
may invoke the plug to boost sales
Olfactory receptors may announce
the outbreak and issue a $500 fine
We must maintain a diverse portfolio,
like an ancestor of the dogs,
before the fruit fly holds
a private concert that focuses
on what they believe.
--------
FLOWERS WE CAN EAT
My best friend, whom I love--
she sleeps as I sleep,
and we are together,
even if we are not
physically near.
I know that in the dream state
astral travel can occur,
and in that spiritual state
we can commune if we desire.
When I fall asleep,
I imagine being near her,
and maintain awareness
while entering a trance.
After separating
from the physical body,
I can drift
and move through many layers,
beyond stone walls,
hanging, glowing gardens,
the dead, the comatose,
the sleeping, and creatures
and forms that are
of extra-dimensional origin.
During sleep,
we do not dream--
we travel, ascended.
While I am aware,
she is not,
and so I imagine
being near to her--
and then--I am.
If only she could realize
she is not dreaming,
we could spend
every night together.
I see her face,
touch her hands,
fly with her in vacuum
and over any sun, star,
forest or ocean I imagine.
I remember our meetings,
my traveling to her in her own sleep--
and enter into her sleep,
and into her unknown wakefulness--
and this is why I often wish
we both could find
each other sleeping
and never wake again.
----
THE LIGHTS SLEEP WHILE I WAKE
As I drove home from work today,
I came around a corner
and merged into another lane,
and a white Chevrolet Lumina
moved from the left lane
to the right lane,
directly in front of me.
The license plate on this car
began with the sequence 222.
This sequence of numbers
always seems to appear
when I'm undergoing
an expansion of consciousness--
this is accompanied
by other phenomena,
including an inner sense
of humming, the rhythm
and tone of the life force itself,
and a shock of elevation
and electricity concentrated
in my chakras, especially
the third eye and crown.
Electronic devices and light bulbs
tend to make clicking sounds
and mysteriously stop working.
Glass objects may shatter,
with no observable cause--
small pieces of paper
fly around my room,
particularly while I am daydreaming.
The numeric pattern
I am discussing
appears in clusters,
chronologically speaking--
on everything
from store receipts
to street signs,
to pieces of mail, to clocks.
Especially clocks.
The sequence also may shift
according to increments of 37,
although it is mostly represented
in tripartite numerology.
This may be a precursor of enlightenment.
I have consulted ancient
and modern Gnostic texts in hope
of finding some meaning
behind the progression of numerals
and their relationship to events in my life.
I am not sure what triggers
the beginning of the sequence
and what brings about its end.
Sometimes this experience
lasts for days to weeks,
other times it is shorter.
If I could find a way
to pursue it until its culmination--
which I believe is the great work--
yet I do not know what it means,
nor do I know what
this sought culmination
will create
beyond and through itself.
----
POEMS MEAN MORE TO ME THAN MY TEETH
I have dreams where I lose my teeth,
but I have other dreams where I write poems--
even poems in other languages--
languages that I've never seen before,
and I chant them aloud
as the letters and figures
dance in sacred rituals.
I am troubled that I cannot recall
the poems well enough to transcribe them.
I wonder what evolutionary purpose
poetry serves, and why I make poems
in my sleep, but I lose teeth in my sleep,
which would seem to have
a more distinct
ancestral and genetic memory.
Am I being prepared to evolve?
Evolve into a poem, myself a poem--
no leaves crumbled from this book,
but teeth gone from my mouth,
needing only poems to survive.
--------
BLONDE HAIR WAS USEFUL TO REFILL THE LOGS
Viewing a part of his parents
that was always dismayed
by the brightly lit fountain
and wanting to sort by size,
he produced a standing line
in accordance with Lambda.
Inside his second-hand parka
a simple command replaced
all three columns,
and with a standard input,
included a jumbo hot dog,
without requiring
him to resort to
a white-trash option.
I saw his eye drinking oolong tea
from an exposed white tube sock
on a blank password line.
I wasn't hungry yet.
I waited for more batter.
The gentle air draped the age
over the last few years
of the page, in a crease,
and he was still there,
smiling at my doppelganger.
At last,
he recorded 10 copper lines
with large plates of glamour,
and swore
the next time he met a waitress
tucked in bad English,
or another balding demon
guessed his age -
drinking from a trumpet -
he'd substitute a cipher,
and bring the nightlife
of the -f switch to an end.
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QUANTUM CONNECTIVITY
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