amanda fielding, beyond the dura mater

Conjure something beyond words,
then write it down.
Talk like you are speaking the unspeakable.
Communicate by homespun surgery,
a hole in your brain.
Let the film roll, let the crowds boo
but do not fear!
“Against instinct” they say.
And against instinct you go
the only way upwards
through your skull.
Possibilities of the theatre of cruelty,
assaulting you audience to bring them prophecies,
making them believe what your body echoed
since the first day you remember,
since the first drop of blood revealed
the brilliant radiance of freedom.
Since you opened your mouth
for the very first time
to scream and beg
and beseech them.
Do not let the cranial bones close!
Do not let me be caged!
Let me go, let me be free
to eternally circulate.
Their minds rejected you,
their ears closed up to your pleas.
Now came your chance
to take revenge.
Feel the heartbeat contained in your brain.
Reveal yourself, welcome the spring
of your becoming.
Let the art critics dub your existence avant-garde,
let them distance themselves from the truth.
Let the surreal swim up to the surface where everyone can see
the blood-covered white gown upon your head.
Let the whole world forget chorales,
let them sing the heavenly song to the honor of
the eternal glory of the Divine.
The mystical power
of the ineffable transcendence
of self-trepanation.