David Lynch fan art by Bernt Carlzon (http://carlzon.deviantart.com/).
SAGE YOCKELSON
Birth Tape: David Lynch
david lynch is dreaming, twisting in his grave his bed and describing these
dualities onscreen. dirty suburb jump cuts help us connect face to face and
help us form self from these four faceless floating eyes. david asks his friends but
they tell him there is no such thing as self. self is a smudge of dirt staining the lens
of life, they say. self is the film from inside the womb and the way the moon follows
you at night like a radiator dream with strange craters carved into her cheeks. david
thinks he understands this, at least,
and he moves to turn on the camera.
here is a feeling, he says, that turns
into another. self after self after self
is gone, and this feeling is what feeling leaves behind. he lets the shots linger
longer on faces that follow us in our dreams: a guide to collisions of planet and
star, collisions like your sports car’s smoking tires or like eggs being smashed with
a wrench: collisions of thought cutting quick shallow slices that did not sting, but
david sits down, and he turns off the camera, and he says he doesn’t give a shit
about self. all he cares about, he says, is the way we come apart on a screen.
david lynch is dreaming, twisting in his grave his bed and describing these
dualities onscreen. dirty suburb jump cuts help us connect face to face and
help us form self from these four faceless floating eyes. david asks his friends but
they tell him there is no such thing as self. self is a smudge of dirt staining the lens
of life, they say. self is the film from inside the womb and the way the moon follows
you at night like a radiator dream with strange craters carved into her cheeks. david
thinks he understands this, at least,
and he moves to turn on the camera.
here is a feeling, he says, that turns
into another. self after self after self
is gone, and this feeling is what feeling leaves behind. he lets the shots linger
longer on faces that follow us in our dreams: a guide to collisions of planet and
star, collisions like your sports car’s smoking tires or like eggs being smashed with
a wrench: collisions of thought cutting quick shallow slices that did not sting, but
david sits down, and he turns off the camera, and he says he doesn’t give a shit
about self. all he cares about, he says, is the way we come apart on a screen.
Kansas
I had wondered if I would see you
at the gallery, modern art being something
we could both relate to. Being something.
I stop in front of the Pollock,
betraying my inclination for splatter
films. You’re looking at Warhol
& Warhol is one sexy motherfucker,
I’ll admit. And Andy says,
Draw what you know of Kansas. And Andy offers you
1. A butcher knife wrapped in paper, &
2. A small saw.
Andy asks for the heaviest parts of your body.
So whatever.
So go talk to the Rothkos. Those big sad squares
that never ever touch. Look, this is why
I’m cutting off your hands
with a small saw. In my hands
your hands are the heaviest parts of my body.
You said you never did like poetry, not
knowing that sex is only a shortcut to wordsplatter.
You said. So unlike
Pollock. So unwilling to connect the dots.
I had wondered if I would see you
at the gallery, modern art being something
we could both relate to. Being something.
I stop in front of the Pollock,
betraying my inclination for splatter
films. You’re looking at Warhol
& Warhol is one sexy motherfucker,
I’ll admit. And Andy says,
Draw what you know of Kansas. And Andy offers you
1. A butcher knife wrapped in paper, &
2. A small saw.
Andy asks for the heaviest parts of your body.
So whatever.
So go talk to the Rothkos. Those big sad squares
that never ever touch. Look, this is why
I’m cutting off your hands
with a small saw. In my hands
your hands are the heaviest parts of my body.
You said you never did like poetry, not
knowing that sex is only a shortcut to wordsplatter.
You said. So unlike
Pollock. So unwilling to connect the dots.
Sage Yockelson is a creative writing and film student who lives in California (mostly) and New York (sometimes). They have previously had work published in the University of San Francisco's undergraduate literary magazine, The Ignatian. Sage can be found on Twitter @tinydavidlynch, where they yell about movies in 140 characters or less.