border prism, part 1

The jester rains, sweats in sun. Summer sweats down. Rain on skin. Jester, fool of victory, can’t stand the bright rain of historical sun, sweating. Something on the skin. Rain, constituted, is painful, so he packs up. He, his bags, won’t be subjected. So he travels to rain, to Texas, like that, where he and his head believe he won’t look up, be subjected to the sky, to rain, terrified and constituted.

And light like that light is broken from or looks up in dread. Head from the sun, looking up. Stained into sky. Misshapen sun fears the stain. Arms crossed and heavy, he’s shadowed in dread. Afraid. His chest breaks like a dog ready to beaten apart into triangular shards.

Expecting a beating, he forgets about the sun, constituted, breaking him apart. Triangular, remembering only the shards, he forgets. Because of that sun he moves, remembering, to Texas, where it reminds him he won’t confront that sort of sun, where there isn’t victory, only loss in the desert where he is of loss, in a way, of Texas. Where a rain trooper, just empty, is busy sand drawing a yellow line.

A state around the state of the trooper is Texas because he’s busy drawing a yellow line like that line around the rose of Texas. Because yellow, symbol of purity, like the yellow of the state, is a rose for him, of Texas. And he is in - and is a - love.

Purity, symbol of the highway. He understands. Symbol of the state for him, of infinity. He’s in the yellow, in a love line with the highway down the middle and understands. Highway line, infinity, divides his yellow life. Line down the middle, life-like, going away.

On this side of the line he’s one part of consciousness. The other one, that part, keeps them, their psyches, from intermingling. Going one way can rest, one part assured. The other, keeping that line from them, will be the guide.

Intermingling will prevent collisions. One can rest and this, assured, is that line. How he thinks the guide will prevent each person, collisions, he thinks in own way. Place, bordered, where he’s relating to one from each other person - only in his own place - to the border prism. How he thinks the relation of the state to one another.

Through a similar image, he imagines only the round eyes. Prism of the state, remote and cool, glass tears cascading down multiple levels. So he dusts ants off the crystal screen, level with the tiny prisms, cascading down. Machines, brainless eyes remote and round, like he’d like to be. And cool. Dusts the ants to be like he’d like to be: off the screen, like everyone.

To be tiny machines, organized, brainless, like his screen. He’d like to be ants but he’s to be like everyone greater, so he brushes them off, just the ants. But he’s greater. So he brushes them off his screen. Because he’s bigger. And if he’s someone, just like that – bigger – then he does so.

(to part 2)