Poem by Andrea LaRue

The Sounds of Being Human

His electric breath tickled every static birdhouse shape of light
The pink structures that were his cranial cells molded to the underbelly of the dark symmetry
Asymmetrical thinking acquainted him with his seismic subconscious
It hurled his atoms in thought process to the depths of non existence
Green and cruddy this isolation smells very funny

 
His white horizon cuticles were still vanilla cookies, light in color and shining through swiss hole pockets
They engulfed the heat from his Pisces blood and made everything viscous
Covered the blue shoots and ladders of his pale ’93 body
Tweaked the frozen capillaries of his freaked out elbow bones
 

Only the bearded men who moved crystalline water ice were around
They shoveled and sucked frozen precipitation from the pearly ground
While a brother walked as if he already felt part of the clouds

With a light mass of turquoise knit on his exquisite golden head
He stretched his elongated limbs to the start of the color of inside out bodies
He arrived at the center of everything

He was the sun, kings, queens, atoms, empires, fetal positions, birthdays, bloodstreams, magic tricks,
cells, teeth, breath, decades, time…

And with that, he plunged into the dark crystal clear bottom of his watery brain
He fell beneath the wet earth

He wore every bit of human being that he could
But fragments of his thick psyche floated heavy like a hot led balloon into the night sky
They were unloaded and folded between the sheets of time

We will never again watch moving pictures
Together, our eardrums will never vibrate with new old psychedelia

You will forever remain in my nostrils, in my lungs
Your vitality will swim in my stomach
Your sparkles will sink into my bones
Your fire will float in my heart

 

Artwork © Allison Goldin
Artwork © Allison Goldin

 

A lover of all things old, Andrea LaRue works in antiques and vintage; she was born in the wrong decade. She has lived on both coasts but is from the East; in spirit from the West. She loves dystopian novels, typewriters, psychedelic smocks, oddities, tacos, and her boyfriend.

Allison Goldin is an artist living in Cambridge. Her work is a collection of spontaneous drawings from the imagination. The most common link throughout her art are the semi-recognizable creatures scattered amongst and bringing together the surrounding doodles. She is currently studying Illustration at The School of Museum of Fine Arts, Boston.

 

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