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| Artist: Daniel Ayles |
It was about Einstein; how
Even Einstein died in a hospital
But he returns to me now
In this closet of a room
In this sad honest flank of America
A day or two before the New Year
(And how the digit graduates only one more
no matter all those numbers' flagrances:
375 dead - murdered - this year in this city, two
candidates and a billion citizens, however many
carbohydrates compose this malt Colt 45 marked at
$2.75 three quarters of a mile from my initial want
for it.)
How densely '12 becomes '13.
How simply and in spite.
I realize when my head hurts
Or when I am tired or bored
Or sick, dissatisfied, hungry
Or after I fuck my own hand
And lay my head on the pillow
That Einstein said one thing
Before he went into that hospital
And died
That comes to me now
Even me and even now:
That the definition of insanity
Is doing the same thing
Forever
And expecting a different outcome
Each time.
Mutation Malfunction
This
Which is the preamble that cannot be helped
That happens before we wake
Is the thing that makes us all crazy as snowflakes
As snow falls to cover ground
And always is salted.
___
The Poet: B. Bell has written from a sun room in midtown Detroit, a garage in the Hollywood Hills, a high-rise patio north of Trondheim, Norway, and, most recently, from a guesthouse south of Portland, OR. He types on a Brother Charger II and has had works published in The Portland Review, The Detroit MetroTimes and with various online venues.
The Artist: Daniel Ayles is a Portland, Oregon-based artist whose work bridges the gap between the genres of Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Horror. If you are interested in exploring his body of work further, you can see examples of his art in the 2012 August issue of The Horror Zine. You may also view two collaborative pieces he did with Tiffany Luna in the 2012 November issue of The Horror Zine.
