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Sunday, February 7, 2016

Dream Record February 6

The man stands shirtless in an empty apartment. He tightens the belt around his waist and screams, “What about the tomatoes? Tomatoes!” His neighbors pounds on the wall and yell at him to be quiet, but if this is like any of the previous shouting episodes, he’ll continue shouting random questions and strange obscenities until nearly midnight.

He wears copy machine toner around his eyes- like eye shadow.

The black man stands atop the cliff overlooking the ocean. Out there, on the water, a large cargo barge heads slowly towards the setting sun. He grabs my lapels and shakes me. “I hope you know that we’re the only four people in the country who know anything about that music. You must get me that score!”

And blast out witches you can talk about in your kitchen.

A German soldier with his rifle drawn and ready, stands silhouetted in the doorway. Lightning flashes. “Now is ze time to radically lower your power vectors, Herr Carter. Ve vill judge you by our general impressions; ve have no need for substantiated evidence.”

I am coughing, kneeling over the floor. I’ve got the hurricane cough. You and I got pretty deep in our letters and conversations once, but it’s been years since we talked. I am coughing like one of the dogs, like one of the canaille.

Go to volcano, immediately, go. See if he has unleashed it again. This is the land of the freak and the home of the bereaved. There are no more conventicles.

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Jeff Carter's books on Goodreads
Muted Hosannas Muted Hosannas
reviews: 2
ratings: 3 (avg rating 4.33)

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