Art by Luis Miguel Munoz

Written by Nelly Matorina

I went to bed at sunrise, breaaaaaaaathing through the past seven hours of almost quiet, almost quiet if I shut my doors and the sun rises from the curtain tops. When I went downstairs, it had started. The reality box was on full blast, beaming through the house. I tried to turn it off (turn it off), but she stopped me.
CAN’T YOU SEE I’M WATCHING THAT SHE SAID, I LIKE TO HEAR IT. (CANT YOU SEE I’M WATCHING THAT SHE SAID I LIKE TO HEAR IT.)
Do you hear me, do you really
Above that grandiose buzzing
That incessant chitter-chatter
Of our reality box, hanging off the table

Reality is subjective
But only just
And when work is but contrasted with entertainment
Then what do we have left at the end of it, statement

What are you looking at, she said. Can’t you see the reality box is ON, she said. Can’t you see I don’t have time for your silly stories. I guess I don’t have time for my silly stories either, do I, I guess I don’t have time for my silly stories either, do I what with all this work & reality box entertainment.

ABOVE ALL ELSE I BELIEVE IN MUSIC
& art & the spiritual magic of creating something
(from the core of your mind
& the corner of your soul)
But above this clear

I went in to the forest, with the dark blue trees and the beautiful sad sad birdsong & asked why it felt so lonely, why it felt I had to be so lonely. She looked at me for a long time and said that they had no time for my silly stories.
But above this clear

Breath.

But above this clear, distant forest
This clear, distant island
I
Can only hear the heart and the buzz and the dogs cry