ventriloquism of the gods

Listen carefully, can you hear the bicameral voice? The line from the bushman’s song that sang on Kali’s lap?

What did the statues of the Colossi of Memnon say? What radio stations did the quartzite statues tune to? the future is continuously floating in space. Light is a ray of memory and travels through the crystal of a quartz watch.

I promise I’ll keep this trance brief. I’ll set you free soon.

a revolving triangle of words, like a periaktos, a flat pyramidal column. the mind is a theater.

here begins our recipe on stage, theurgy explained by the puppets and the belching belly prophet. The gut strings of a lyre, the chatter of cats, the lures became attractive for prey.

A spell cast by the laryngeal cartilage, it was a phone that charms a cobra. a phantom who convinced the snake to become a lasso for cattle. nor was it a mistake that Djehuty or Thoth was a baboon.

The self-proclaimed statue still searches in vain for the voice of the puppeteer. Was it the groma that framed our street with threads?

meanwhile, the actors handle the effigy of oneself, like a figure directed towards a point of light.

For the playwright all beings are a set of numbers in a formula. an arrangement with a special name for themselves. a zip code, a social security number, a recipe with ingredients from both cognition and the hunger of the goat, who eats everything without consequence, but later sings about indigestion

Imagine what you can’t see, the extended variations of Çatalhöyük. Zoologists and Bureau of Labor Statistics found Shiva’s cross-legged skull including… femur… sacrum… found in a fortune telling leopard skin. a skin that becomes a tunic, an altar cloth, a shaking tent and a spreadsheet of lunar news.

all this is and always was… particles connected to transient microgravity… forces without feedback that reshape the posture of objects for further processing. the flow carries our bones to an endless center without any judgment from the fabric of the sphere. The reality of the Milky Way has no titles, only the silence of the particles moving on a leopard skin.

written by ©Mitchell Pluto

feature photo by Mitchell Pluto Legba converting into a photon

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