Surrealist Thread

>>9980913
I'll start -

The negative halo of Surrealism, a lime green bunson burner flickering in dream’s egoless cubes, is akin to a dark jewel dangled in a drowning mime’s mouth. The splash makes no sound, but we hear it forever. What could be done to reach the chiaroscuro ballerina, black pink grained, spinning in a streamroom domicile? Surrealism is Eros, the woman in sepia gelatin. How could she be reached? She’d been given a blue ring of ochre that rang and sang, he’d spent nights and days with her, but a gelatin freeze remained. How could she be reached? A word fallen like lead thumbs? A scream so horrifying it would render Lucifer deaf? He couldn’t maintain her face, it shifted. Strange is a mathematics of semiotic dislocation now. This is not Arnim, or Achim, or the uncanny. A sense of dislocation related to civilization is not the same as the uncanny…. A cryptographer struggling with a code as some struggle with poppers of sea salt asthma, and the molecules were pleasing him in nostril shock, porcelain worms freezing into small hickory smoked bullets burning. He found the books of August Yellow in the egoless ice of the library’s bowels, peppered with black and white salt and stone of marble marzipan to the touch. This is when the rapid jasmine sobbed from the earmarked monsoons of rain and the missals turned Latin pink between her thighs. Bathing it’s in even deeper basement, he screams with joy in the neon light. This victory is the victory of Surrealism.

Genome Dice by John Thomas Allen

i wonder if someone in that city look up and go AAAA here comes big flower!!!!

>>9980913
Human existence being an hallucination containing in itself the secondary hallucinations of day and night (the latter an insanitary condition of the atmosphere due to accretions of black air) it ill becomes any man of sense to be concerned at the illusory approach of the supreme hallucination known as death.

>>9980969
I think they probably just thought they were dehydrated and it was a mirage or something. If the flower is really there at all...

>>9980913
"Through a lens at the end of the bay, we saw the door and beyond the door was a room, and on a small dressing table sat a phone. The shrill urgency echoed off the brine colored walls and seemed to spiral upwards out the lighthouse. In the dream, he picks up the phone.
"How did you get this number?" he inquired.""

I don't know, it always seemed unsettling to me for some reason.

Quiet he sat in his castle that was built for one. The voices outside were crisp and peaceful, lulling the man closer to sleep. "You must not search," the voices chimed, and he listened. He was given a choice- sleep or die- and it was not a choice he deemed as the truth. The ichor of his mind was pushed, pulled, and yanked, and through the suffocation, he stood and stretched. The boy was watching and then walked deeper into the room with footsteps like rain into a puddle. The man moved to follow the boy, unsure of his own fate. A distraction came from behind a door, and the familiar greeted him, perhaps a mirage. The man could not listen to what he recognized- his duty was with the boy. The pages were running out, and the boy, with his haunting appearance, came into sight. The demand made would mean death of some kind, but all the same, it was voiced. "Knight Me" demanded the man of the boy. All were silent. The truth was given form and the book died.

>>9981741
Damn. That one hits home.

PIPES