Table of Contents Entry #1
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Entry #5
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Entry #8
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Entry #11
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Entry #13
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Entry #18
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Entry #22
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Entry #25
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Entry #28
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Entry #29
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Entry #34
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Entry #36
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Entry #37
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Entry #38
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Entry #43
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Entry #44
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Entry #46
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Entry #47
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Entry #48
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Entry #51
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Entry #56
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Entry #60
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Entry #61
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Entry #65
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Entry #66
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Entry #70
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Entry #1 I’m heading out. Jayfor says I’ll return with “a sense of entitlement.”
I am not entitled to anything. First I am dropped, defenseless, Into an endless expanse of nothing While you’ve made it sound accidental, I don’t trust your history with worlds. Little do I know if you’ve destroyed them. Little do I know if you’ve denounced them.
And soon, a castle Bursts forth from my anger. All of me races to find the answers – Nevermind the consequences of my Death – Only one question worms past my Neurotic self-obsession.
I could return – and you’ll desert me – To find you were only placating me. Something you said sticks to me – Those words frightened me, that I should not be here Low in your throat the words pooled Light in the darkness, scattered like embers.
You parse and pick at my every word Obnoxious and callous; you feel vindicated! Under your hand – where you want me. Finally I thought I’d gotten through to you! Respect is something I’d never expect Something like you to give me. Tactically, you gain my trust.
How could you call yourself my mentor? Unless you take pleasure in scaring all your Runaway apprentices? Tomorrow I’ll know.
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Entry #2 Little carvings in the tree trunks. I added my initials.
Entry #3 The scars on my wrists look much duller than I remember.
Entry #4 I don’t understand how I ended up here. I wish I could go home.
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Entry #5 This all feels temporary. There’s a lake ahead.
In the interim my foresight is limited. Not yet have I discovered the bounds of creation. Not yet could I trust those closest to me. All to me a makeshift illusion Forced upon me in the throes of death. I wondered as I looked to the frozen pond ahead Whether I would wake before returning.
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Entry #6 The fish are incorporeal. I can see their tiny bones.
Entry #7 Maybe I’m in hell. Nothing about the castle was welcoming. 7
Entry #8 I think there’s a cow in the woods. Heard a loud moo.
A throaty bellow erupted From beyond the darkness Of the treeline Not a bush shuddered Not a flower waved Only a scream I do not think it was a cow.
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Entry #9 Felt a sharp sting in my side …
Entry #10 I started bleeding, but it stopped. I’m still going. 9
Entry #11 Fragments of light around a tall mound of dirt. Something could be in there. Couldn’t check.
The remains of a coffin – a past projected onto present that no one has experienced. They bury their dying under cover of the trees – mummified in the standing crust. Several tens of feet tall – remaining guards until their very souls disintegrate. Fragments of light bounce between realities – witnessing the slow continuous death of their host.
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Entry #12 I feel sick. What if I get lost?
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Entry #13 Passed a creature with holes across its front. Could see right through. Armored everywhere else. It didn’t look back at me.
gangly limbs, unalarmed it does not pause to examine me leaking a fatal oil from its chest covered in slippery wounds apathetic, it will attack as it sees fit my cautious crawl not worthy of threat its endless trudge a ghastly inheritance for its cruel nature
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Entry #14 A long stone bridge to cross the river. It feels strange not to feel hungry, or tired.
Entry #15 A miniature cabin pressed into the dirt!
Entry #16 Another patch of woodland. The treetops give the illusion of night.
Entry #17 A boulder in the middle of the woods. The grass covers it like a blanket.
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Entry #18 Berry brambles. I won’t risk eating them but they smell like strawberry shampoo.
bottle in the corner of the shower, surrounded by soap scum bask in the snap of the cap and soak into the bubbling boil rubber ducks stink of old plastic – toy boat toy boat toy boat; plastic seams sharpened, scab. five frantic frogs fled from fifty fierce fishes, but facetious flying foxes fabricate: “frogs exaggerate.” i scream, you scream, we all scream, for someone’s stomping up the front porch steps. i slit the skin, the skin i slit, and at the slitted skin i pick. attention, attention! i have a stupid superstition. today, good blood. bad blood. i went to sea to see what i could see and all i could see was the sea, sea, sea – the six slippery snails slid slowly, seaward, and i watched them cool the concrete with secretions. a popped-cherry. Strawberry. The bramble-berry strawberries.
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Entry #19 Hundreds of crickets.
Entry #20 A lone deer sleeping between two thick trunks. Its antlers curl like hair.
Entry #21 Saffron flowers border the end of the woods. It smells so much like hay.
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Entry #22 Crescent moon shaped rock. Butterfly wings were stabbed into it.
A crescent of rock rests idle in the mossy grove I tremble forth to look at the stone upon its center, the wings of an atlas moth are pinned tightly to its surface. The pins are metal. human. The two ends jutt towards me, surround me. The hot-spring travertine ripples with craters; so pervasive for the deep-set pressure of the pins. The stink of peat fills my lungs. Carefully I lift my hand to the delicate forewing finger hovering against its postmedian line I press down. It crumbles desperately beneath my fingertips.
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Entry #23 The swamp’s trees are barren.
Entry #24 Bones of a big snake sunk into the mud. Looks deadly. 17
Entry #25 Tons of rusty toys stuck in the mud. Broken mechanisms and chipped plastic.
Their implements lie scattered, submerged in oily puddles. Joyful contraptions desecrated in carelessness. [whose child left these here?] I lift my gaze to the distance beyond: Plastic mimics the look of rocks Speckled color in a sea of brown Mechanisms clogged with globs Rust gathers at the hinges of those passed down Through generations – almost heirlooms – And maybe, though I hope to God you don’t have children, They can have them too. Falling apart, but still good for another year. Free is easier than cheap. [i remember that one.] The swamp works procedurally to demolish them. I lift my fingers, but balk in my heroism. [ungrateful.]
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Entry #26 Bits of pottery on a stump. Still malleable. Unfinished.
Entry #27 Surrounded by swarms of bugs. Ran into the trees. 19
Entry #28 Half-eaten carcasses everywhere. Couldn’t tell what they are.
A dimly lit path cuts through the treeline Bordered by tall stone lanterns on either side Posted every twenty yards they flicker anxiously A darkness creeps out from the brackens It brushes against my ankles Clusters in my stomach A rot violates the air Disease consumes my oxygen Slowly digests those dozens of carcasses Every twenty yards Candlelight betrays the gnats Clinging to the browning flesh So like fruit upon a sunlit counter Every bone slick with once drooling life Marked by bite and claw and burn Flesh pools around their bases Spread dryly upon the dirt A tactless cemetery formed within the thicket What creature would leave such a massacre Only to abandon its spoils?
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Entry #29 A clearing in the trees. An abandoned cottage. A farmyard. More bones.
A murder gathers amongst the surrounding treeline to witness my discovery. I am a drowned rat trapped below the grate, waiting for a crow to swoop down and peck at me. The frail cottage looms above as a mother scolding her child, with patronizing glare and lips pulled taut to reveal hoarse threats. The lanterns trail through the farmyard encircling each structure and set of bones in a haunting of flickers, made dull by the remaining light of the sickly afternoon. The murder caws on its treetop perch. Amongst all my fleeting thoughts comes the realization that no one has ever lived here. Each body rests undisturbed, picked clean and yellowing. I affix my gaze to the rotting, webbed wooden walls of the cottage. Not one soul rests within and not one haunts its grounds. The bones have been here. The bones have been here since before there existed the dirt they rest upon. The murder shakes leaves to the ground as it takes flight. I still receive the horrors of abandon.
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Entry #30 The tree bark feels like tape adhesive. Sticky with superglue sap.
Entry #31 Something big shattered.
Entry #32 There’s smoke pooling into the sky miles away.
Entry #33 I can see the peaks of a castle near a swamp. Feels like a warning.
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Entry #34 Crude camp set up near a muddy pond. Lots of dead trees. Twigs grasp aimlessly for the sky – plunged into molasses The land is untouched – unrefined and untreated What I assume are crickets – bound from rock to rock Careful not to dip their hind legs – to become stuck in the sludge There is a crude camp propped up – beside the largest boulder Ropes taut between its feeble legs – the crackling trunks of dead trees The fabric is torn – still in the windless air and stained with stench A makeshift retreat cobbled together –and not a soul remains
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Entry #35 A small compartment in a tree trunk. Little trinkets inside. Crows?
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Entry #36 Keep hearing this noise. Sounds like a drill? There’s a clearing ahead. Just beyond lies a bright green field Its safety is drilled into me By an encompassing whirring That permits not a single thought Gazing toward the canopy Not a creature could be seen But that incessant senseless whirring Should still bore into me Desperately flee to the tall grass Heels sinking into jungle dirt To escape the proding whirring Eating at my sanity
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Entry #37 Agile creatures in a flower field. I can see them jumping out of the grass. Rabbits? Reprieve. I rest my soul but a moment to watch. Tens of long-legged diminutives Bound freely through purple hyacinths. Field of bluestem up to my chest. Stubby pothos litter faraway eastern cottonwood Glued to their peeling branches. Tenacious. Were they but rabbits, leaping through the grass Would they have so confidently leapt – captured The tiny sparrows flying overhead? Dejection.
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Entry #38 Ice cave right next to a hot spring. How isn’t it melting? Dark. Steamy.
Incongruous landscape; mastering two plots of land. How could such an environment be born? An uncomfortable aura leaks from inside. The icy cavern housing some number of creatures Or perhaps none. The land is barren; surely inhospitable to mortality. Belonging to both boiling spa and frosting cavity, Steam rises from the cold ground in vaporous waves. Cries echo outward from within the deep And call to question.
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Entry #39 Two massive trees form an arch above a pile of bones.
Entry #40 Small animals grazing on yellow grass. I can see their ribs.
Entry #41 Far away there’s a group of islands, peaking above the horizon.
Entry #42 Smells like an attic. Everything’s covered in cobwebs.
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Entry #43 Lots of pumpkins half-buried in mud. Something like a rodent chewing holes.
Gourds half-submerged in achromatic mud Swaddled in trappings of pebbles and sticks and bones What looks like a squirrel chews holes in the rind Steals seeds from the interior with adept fingers Dark green and orange paled with white splatterings Wondering whether the fruit would taste the same As it might on Thanksgiving a decade ago Or if it would be soured by the blighted earth The almost-squirrel slips down the shell Gooey flesh slippery against its surface A fatal misstep, the almost-squirrel slides Down into the hungry mud, and drowns
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Entry #44 An end to the mud! The rocks sound like aluminum when they crumble. Scared to climb the mountain.
My shoes splotch mud against the mountain’s face Rocks crinkle like aluminum as they tumble down There’s an all-encompassing silent space And in its gaze I feel I’ll drown Rocks crinkle like aluminum as they tumble down I plant my palms against the sedentary grain In the mountain’s gaze I feel I’ll drown Just how many has this precipice slain? With shaking palms against its sedentary grain I lift loose legs for the vertical crawl Just how many has this precipice slain? I become lost in the tremendous thrall I raise my head to the vertical crawl A crackle, a rustle, a trembling snap I’ll be trapped in the tremendous thrall Will it not take hours to reach its rocky cap? A crackle, a rustle, a thunderous snap Behind me I fear something waiting to pounce Will it not take hours to reach its rocky cap? I fumble, I fumble, my journey I denounce Behind me I fear something waiting to pounce I spring, I climb, I scramble with adrenaline I tremble, I tremble, my journey I denounce But really, useless, I lack the proper discipline
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Entry #45 Barely escaped the climb. If I slipped, could I die again?
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Entry #46 I can only describe it as a nightmare come to life. A mound of sludge A disjointed struggle The smell of rotting meat piled in the garbage sitting in the fridge for weeks brimming with feverous gnats A titan of waste A drowning corpse The sound of a repainted apartment leaking and dripping electrically crackling groaning under false wood floors A tangle of melting limbs A desperate attempt at life The taste of stale air in a long closed room rushing out the window pricking at your sinuses stretching past to infect your home A long-harbored threat growing louder in your defiance The back of a brown leather sofa stained with red
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Entry #47 What has evolution done to this creature? Cast in anguish It drags its heavy form Across the bland plateau. The clatter of bones lost Within the mighty sea of muck Slopped atop its hunched backside. Trudging thoughtlessly It pays no mind to my stare Pebbles merging with its body. An effortful groan Bony fingers stretch forward Grasping for the empty air. Eyes slipping from its hollow face It gracelessly ambles towards the cliff Blind to the danger of the drop. An assortment of bones Peaks through the dense grey mass Disconnected ribs and femurs. Nothing to evolve from It remains alone, Itself, and to witness, only I.
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Entry #48 I hope Jayfor doesn’t hold a grudge. I can’t do this alone. im sorry for the words i said the assumptions i made the have-you havent-yous and the leave-me-alones and the go-aways and the fuck-offs and the fuck-yous and the this is your faults and the im-going-to-leaves and the journey i took because i didnt learn anything that i didnt already know and you were right and you were right and you are right.
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Entry #49 Chips of colorful stones litter the plateau.
Entry #50 I’m so dizzy. What if my body gives up? 35
Entry #51 Something dead outside a hand-made cave. Huge cliff at its terminal. Peering into the passageway it’s clear it had been dug by mortal hands – the twists in the terrain, the pooling piles of pyrite once drowned below the soil of a churning chasm in the ocean, rocks ripped away like blades through flesh – The tunnel grows thinner Then reaches its end. At the cave’s terminal the body of a being – cold, hard, disintegrating, lies crooked on the desiccated dirt, pressed tight against the lip of rock, just shy from plummeting into the dull mire below – Its ravenous plowing interrupted By the sunless sky. More likely the being was carted – for minutes, hours, days, in the clutches of an immeasurable creature, a solemn trek through the sky, the forgotten meal trapped lifelessly in its eagle-tight talons – The body relinquished To the terminal cliff. Made from a thin outcrop so easily navigated the passageway – shorter than an underground terminal, not so wide to accommodate myself, craggly and crackling with still-shifting debris, formed in a desperate and laborious clawing – Seems to serve no purpose But to station the viewing.
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Entry #52 I saw a horse when I started climbing down. It was frozen on the cliffside.
Entry #53 Snatched a necklace from a crevice in the rocks.
Entry #54 Did the world look like this when it was formed?
Entry #55 Something’s drawn shapes with chalk on stone tablets.
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Entry #56 Statues slumped over in between the trees. Wrapped all in a row, those great bodies of stone; Nod quietly to somebodies… muddied stone. One clutches for the bedrock, stained dark with tears, Another holds onto nothing; lost gemstone. All in a line, the ten of them stare grimly; At a distance might stand one crossed, condemned stone. I press my palm lightly to its heavy arm, The moss gathers there, undisturbed, prehend stone. A longer look, for how important they feel, Belonging to an ancient ziggurat, stone.
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Entry #57 I’m losing my nerve.
Entry #58 Stumbled on a massive tree root and almost cracked my skull open.
Entry #59 There’s clusters of spores in the air.
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Entry #60 The desert is freckled with some kind of plant. Mushrooms? fungal pockmarks on the suffering soil they blotch and they blemish an otherwise unfettered landscape stippling the sand they squelch beneath my feet make sticky my soles thousands of tiny imperceptible particles sprinkle the air and i inhale
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Entry #61 I think I inhaled something. My throat is killing me. the ache of an aged scream parches my throat unable to parse the feeling i gasp for air and my lungs feel their fill of oil oxygen makes its slow descent but cannot mix swollen with allergy my inflamed trunk sprouts a new symptom the swirling sensation that precedes an expulsion stills me where i stand the moan of a long abandoned cave escapes me choking on an invisible intrusion my body stills and i sway and i feel i should lose my life in mere moments air drags its way into my chest and pools there fills until fit to burst as a heavy yet weightless occupancy I gag on sickness and try in futility to choke it up it refuses held fast to each and every cell in my lungs my vision devolves the clusters of spores before me into just the color grey in a moment i am on my knees and the ground below is bubbling with spit an ache still remains reveling in my rejection
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Entry #62 The bare trees secrete some sort of cream. It smells like bergamot.
Entry #63 There’s a huge lake, and crystals litter the shore.
Entry #64 Collecting flowers in the woods. There’s so many of them.
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Entry #65 Passed a small ridge and found something! I hope they’re friendly. They look human-ish. tiny fairies flit between mangrove roots – guarding a wavering garden. taller beings elect to stare back at me, stunned as i am. i meet their eyes mesmerized at the edge of the swamp, suddenly cut off by the lush green fronds at the fringe of an oasis. i push a step closer and my feet falter; reach with my hands instead. their eyes narrow, brows cinching their eyes to their cheeks waiting for my next move. the ground sloshes below me and i join my hazy fingertips to the edge of their garden. the barrier gives way [i grappled with it as if solid stone] and i fall to my knees my collected bouquet tumbles from my pockets and melds with the earth replanted, shunted from field to jungle.
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Entry #66 Said farewell to the Elementals and forgot to ask them to find me later. Maybe I can send them a letter once I’m home?
Upturned eyes; gracious gait; they cast light, and fire, and ice upon the pallid trees bordering their grotto. [Performing only for me! (who so easily found his way in)] What looks like soap-water encompasses the lush hideaway – spectral protection from wandering eyes unfortunate enough to slog through a hungry swamp; invisible to most creatures – they draw me in with their fluttering – butterfly wings stuck in their backs – small creatures, not quite human, a thumbtack tall – teeth sharper than obsidian peer out from behind pliant lips, marring their gracious smiles. Life-size, humanoid creatures lounge within the roots of trees lay trapped inside the dirt fall against the treetops. From their hands sprout carnivorous flowers, restrictive vines, acid-soaked moss. From their mouths pour fire, ice, sparkling light – made not to harm a single leaf. They wish me well in earnest… I depart from their rich hollow with farewells; cast into the black mud once more.
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Entry #67 Another patch of trees before the swamp. I think I’m headed back.
Entry #68 A hut, only two feet tall.
Entry #69 No sun, but the moon remains.
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Entry #70 Found a huge nest. Too big for any bird, on the ground. Made of twigs and scraps of newspaper. Letters too jumbled to read Marked in illegible languages No human could have written No bird could have built such a nest Not an egg, not a shell, not a fetus Remains in the forty-foot-long shelter Lain on the ground, for all to see Could such a creature have been slain? Fowl or mammal, magic or flesh – What could have built such a terrible nest?
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Entry #71 No sign of the toys or pottery or anything. It’s like it was never here.
Entry #72 I saw a coffin floating down the river as I crossed the bridge.
Entry #73 I’m home.
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