Shots

I. Kejfish

Kejfish, kejfish

Was there ever such a creature?

II. Libraries

Libraries are disembodied continuums that pervade our universe without ever becoming a part of it. All
libraries share this quality of supra-existence, this sense of unity in multiplicity that eludes us all. Each
library is itself, as it is all other libraries, as it is each other library, and as it is, finally, the fleshless
incarnation of the idea and essence of Library.

(Returning to the place of parting is always a tragedy).

III. Emergency

I have often been moved to tears by the desire to.

I have often been moved.
I have often been moved to tears.
Often.

I stood before the elevator in the north stacks, an old gray elevator on a wall with no phone, and read a
little sign that said, phone for emergency use only. I was confused and asked out loud, what phone?, only
to realize that somebody had written down those exact words on the sign, somebody who like me had
stood before this old, rickety elevator and waited and looked around, uninterested and half-forgetting what
to look for, finding nothing.

And yet.

IV. The Dream

I looked at her and told her to go fuck herself. She smiled and said she might as well. I could not believe
that it had come to thisall our time together, the things wed done, for this.

Maybe thats when it started happening, the dream and the other stuff. I am not completely sure but I
think it was because of that, because of her. Well, because of her and me breaking it off. And because of
her, because of her reaction, her indifference, her cynical smile, her need to humiliate me, to add insult to
injury.

V. testimony of my death

its cold. I am afraid. the emptiness grows. I sigh. I sigh again. great big sighs, gulps of air. it grows. it
grows anyway. I tremble. the testimony of my death.

(witness)
VI. Sammys collapse

What are you doing, Sammy? What are you doing?!

Sammy collapsed a few days ago. Took his feet in his hands and rolled down three flights of stairs,
holding on to his feet with both hands, his fingers and thumbs curled around his soles, his soul flying.
(Sammy has a flair for metaphor.) Thankfully says his mother his soul flailed around but stayed close
enough for Sammys bruised and battered body to catch it by the scruff of its spiritual neck and curse it
before shoving it up his arse again. But Sammy had tasted the freedom of collapse; he had savored the
pain and the blood of collapse. He would now go to the hospital for a few weeks, he would be
interrogated, they would ask him questions, want to know why alas, Sammy would say nothing. He
would say naught. That was the beauty of a great and true breakdown. Nobody. Expected Him. Really. To
be normal. Not really. Not ever. Again.

Sammy taught us all a grand lesson: the only true soul out there
is under your feet for a reason: get out while you can,
jump out, walk out, run out. But don't
try to fly out. It won't work.

VII. Signs

One of these days I am going to remove that sign from your forehead. One of these days, when I feel
better.

Its been seven hours and fifteen days.

I go out every night and sleep all day.
The sheep Ive seen
At the slaughterhouse
Have more sense than you did.

One of these days I will remove that sign stuck to your back, I promise. One of these days when I feel like
it.

One of these days, I promise, god damn it, I will remove that sign around your neck, that albatross. One
of these days when I get up.

VIII. Dressed in white

She stood before the tracks, dressed in white, and hitched a ride behind a shirtless man on a bike. They
rode with the wind and he touched her thighs. I met her then. She was smiling at the moon and the
moths that flew around it, burning their wings against the cold. It does not hurt them when they burn.

The music played so loudly I could not hear her speak. She gesticulated at the door and threw her head
back, laughing. Dressed in white. I met her then. She danced without shoes, and the sound of the drums
made her heart beat so hard against her chest that her blouse was stained with red, aglow. I cried out in
pain. But the music played so loudly no one heard.

I met her then. She was staring into the eyes of a turtle in the zoo, underground, underwater, in a tunnel
shaped as a cave, dressed in white. I met her brethren.
She was waving at the ship. I met her then. Her arms were long and graceful and she stood on the shoed
tips of her toes and held on to the railings. Her her head was bare, her skirt billowed in the wind, her hair
framed the world around her. The sky watched, fascinated. Dressed in white.

I met her thenwill she ever meet me, dressed in white?

IX. The agency of burs.

Of course, they do have it.