"He wore trout fishing in America as a costume to hide his own appearance from the world while he performed his deeds of murder in the night."

- Richard Brautigan, Trout Fishing in America

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by Lucas Edwards

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Twenty-Seven

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"Accordian computer ski bomb ring." I've never heard this part of Atom Heart Mother before.

We laid the audience stayed bothering away my mind did stand stood then distance.

"Silence in the ...." Dream cab.

We downstairs disdisrobing going for me to cigarette our lockers in the same bank and our keys had gotten swappped. Who laughed. 

His family was in France after leaving 'Nam. He begins English lessons on Monday, two days from now.

A vision of a man out dancing in his dream field and no shoes now whereas after often trying escaping from Communists three times. Five times. Because school in Saigon is was cancelled.

Everybody must have been a spy.

I sneezed the headphones off and was no longer in Seattle but in Spokane, home. I went upstairs.

"Silence in the studio."

We went upstairs again and attempted to have private time but were followed by anyone who recognized us. This time the desk clerk demanded to join us, his size gave him this right. A buzzer called him back to work.¹

Incantation II

From where did Allen get the idea? Jesus tits! A Jesus vision:

After reading "Please Master" and masturbating, I

rested and let Atom Heart Mother finish, significantly.

It started again. I dozed, knowing I'd never have a vision.

I believe in gluons, not in God, all of a sudden, you know,

my arms shot from my sides and spread in my head, elbows

crooked in pain, hands splayed and I was suddenly risen²

up to the cross and couldn't move. That has happened

in this room before, pavor nocturnis, years ago,

a night and a ride under the bed like the snake that I am.

I couldn't scream and next

I imagined the vision was over. I imagined going upstairs

to see my youngest brother who said, "You look nervous."

Edward's youngest brother has cerebral palsy and mental retardation. As a result, he is not able to speak coherently.

I sat on the imagined couch and the dog, that bitch,

attacked my crotch, I couldn't cry, I try try try until catatonic.

Jesus

died and believed God was all or one

gluon, gluons.... No

sweat, etc. 

Cold.

Slowly I

"oohed" and "aahed" the Atom Heart chorus in my ears

when hearing was restored.

III?

I returned to town to buy this notebook and have been writing ever since, this thick then thin, tense, terse threnody of godfearlovelessfuturemoretonow.

I imagine living in Seattle with Vie Et Cong. Dean and Maggie will be our neighbors. She threw his typewriter at him a few days ago.

Knitting: picking evil places like a psychic would. My needles.

Moses and the CIA (spelled out: Central Intelligence Agency), 

red letter dates, doors and numbers, Elijah and the winged

waitresses who try trying to come to the point but that's

beside the point. The Evil God-awful all in it means

that she who metes burgers, bonanzas and myriad French fries

in aloof America is being met by arms and even strange demon

hands. She and seas all being read as well as any open books

and doors repeated of doom; the room remains as always

and stays some type of cinching it, a repeating player piano.³

__

A note about how Baysans's job at DJC was like moving into a hell un-labeled, unmarked. No warning given to prospective tenants!

__

The shimmer shining bishop in the full chess set and it is

set in a chest of such panorama's Spanish pickadillo, piece

of eight or silent nine...! Mine, mine of much more than golden

The Word inclusive and obscured, the prophet false and taken

as a loss where to for from with such now nothing (spoken,

nothing heard or shorn sheep) the Lord was my shepherd. I want.

__

I, Lucas Edwards, wrote the above for Edward Lacie. Years ago. All these years later I'm still writing for him, looking for places to put him where he'll soak up the sinister vibes of my cronies. 

Now it's murder instructions I prepare for him. Today will be a final exam. (There's nothing about Rimbaud on the test.)

Ed now has all the information needed to make the decision he needs to make regarding someone he should have killed when he had that first chance. This should not have become the kidnapping it has become. That's not something I taught him.

And their talking, Edward and Baysans, has not been at all beneficial to my plan. It has, instead, confused too many issues. 

Baysans has to die. Edward Lacie has to do it for me, Lucas Edwards, and soon.

The semester of murder will have its lab study and Baysans is he.