Liquid is a Solid

[rowens]

Liquid is a Solid


Drunkenness is the real me,
sobriety is besotted with distractions, hangxiety with crapulous intoxication.

As a bird has no lips the better his song
and a dodo in a poem about extinction
is more extant when gone,

so the only true I, like egg with sperm,
is booze with brain, gives birth
through heart and loins

to that odor that is my soul.

[Wjames]

Liquid is a solid then a liquid then a gas.

It belches like an engine low on oil,
lubricating the air
between brain cells.

It evaporates on the skin
through sweat covered sheets
the day after a birthday.

Morning
over toilet
spewing chunks.

[rowens]

I never have physical hangovers. No body pain, no headaches, no dizziness, no vomiting, no fatigue, no nausea. I don't shake, I don't shiver.
There is simply an experience of a world without gloss or any of the neurotic shortcuts we use to bypass the harsh realities of moment to moment situations. No poetic or mystical coverings over the grass-sticky, animals rotting in the woods, sex and death and hunger with no love or consent lurking in and between every breath of every creature, all insults unwrapped from pleasantries, all violence clear and rippling in the glint of every eye unclouded by moral potty-training. That all I say and do and all that is said and done to me is a culturally maintained facade of symbolic sublimation of fucking, killing and devouring. And that awareness like a needle-sized megaphone plugged into 50 million simultaneous gunshots stuck in an ear which somehow can't hear but knows, aware of the implications and repercussions, silently, of every small action or short sound I make.

That is the sense of a brokenness of a Whole. People have this notion, this Ideal of Wholeness that they worship. This Wholeness exists, without any way to experience it, but to give in to the brokenness as wholeness, or have faith in a Wholeness beyond.

I am drunkenness, I don't get drunk, the I is Whole, Solid.