white-heart: prologue to hysteria, part one


when i shook the ganja smoke out of my head & looked around i was at the bush college in the north. i can't tell how i got there except to say THE MAN, meaning my mother's husband was later to say: "poet... what is a poet? i put four years of my life into making this man something exemplary... & what does he do he goes & calls himself a poet... i can't believe it. i ran against policemen. i spent some of my precious, i mean very treasured, yes i wasted some of my very important time in prison to make sure this man would keep me out of it. & now what, hmm? tell me... he writes things & then goes & makes some noise on some silly shit stage. & he can't even do it well mind you. if he sang it would be something but what does he do? he talks. that's what he does. now how do you like that... poet... pooo... sies!" all true. & he gave me some marijuana to sell too. so that i could contribute to my own civilisation he said. & have something to rattle in my pockets. but i ended up smoking more than i sold & so he gave up on that one. & settled down to some serious peddling all by his lonesome self. with a little help from my mother & twelve year old sister. & like THE MAN says: "this man's mother... yes... now that's a woman. very clever too. you don't find that with these beautiful women. jeslaaik! now that one... heh... i mean i would wait at the other end of the line & get her to take the child... this man's sister, on the train across some four hundred kilometres with the stuff & deliver it to me... woman & child. now that's smart hei? who suspected them? nobody. i remember once they got to the station platform & there were policemen all over that silly platform & this man's mother... ha... sharp more than a razor that woman she did not turn around or jump about like she had to take a piss no, she went up to the police guy nearest to her & asked him to help her get on that train what with having a child & bags & things & the fucking old fool seeing a beautiful woman ran around getting her bags & tripped all over himself thinking he'd get himself an address or something & shoo, you know how dagga has a way of stinking up a bag even if you've wrapped it up in loads of newspaper & everything... but anyway, they beat that one like they won a whole number of others... but anyway when they got to the other side i'd take it from them & send them back. i had rented a house there. & sold from it. employed some three or so sharp boys & they would look out day & night but still you know... these things happen & a few times i could stupid policemen sitting on my tail all the time... & this thing here calling himself a man & a poet at the same time... jesus christ!"


the window trembled shivered & broke down crying. he wiped its tears told it not to be a baby & a rat ran up & down the alley trailing his intestines. dope on its snout in its tracks leaving paw-prints of dirty grey. it was peddling, they said, his bile. (dried & ground to fine yellow crystals red tinged around the fringes. to be heated over a slow fire. inhale the smoke. saliva dribbles out your mouth. catarrh screams up from your lungs cracks its way through the nose the eyes bleed the ears run the feeling is higher than dread. or lower depending on where you want to go.) it's a first choice among parliamentarians & people of power. more the mongering ones than the buyers. the claws of a flaming mouthed giant freak fly locked around both eyeballs & pulled. carrying a sickly green the balls swung in the breeze on black-red strings looked this way that way & choice to slide to solid earth & run into the gutter. as they rolled in the dust trying to get away to the blackness of that not great black hole. the cat (it belonged to his neighbour, that fucked up one eyed red-arse r-x junkie who screamed nights & stared days) sunk its teeth something inside the slime of mucus-spread to retrieve them. he kept his grandmother's ovaries preserved in a jug on the mantelpiece. his mother's last wishes never forget where you come from. so he'd slashed the beloved old woman up on her death-bed. the film of her eyes had cleared as he rummaged down there. she'd tried to raise her head. that messed up the operation somewhat. but he'd smashed the stupid wrinkled face up with a one-two perfected over a decade of street hustling. it was a mess to look at afterwards but no worse than the red & brown & shit stinking fluid rushed from between her legs. he wasn't too long grabbing & pulling at the eggs & pulling them out. in prison they did something like that to get your money after you'd had your arse swallow it. but he'd thought the fucking witch's bags would be rotten surrounded by cobwebs after seventeen pregnancies. but it looked fine. especially now when he'd submerged it in his mother's amniotic fluid she'd kept when he was born. she'd kept singing that stupid song all the time. in case in fucking case. well it was serving a practical purpose now. he knew it would help in case he were to suddenly be near death. just drink the stuff & chew away at the other stuff & he'd be brand new. reborn like the christians say. but that rat worried him. he blinked looking once more at the jug. it looked like menses on the mantelpiece. there was the stupid snake again breaking free of those vagina walls. out into the liquid air. smart somersaulting in the air & going plonk into the jug. jesus, it was eating the stupid ovaries. oh no. just then the rat burst through the window coming in. the cat & the freak neighbour in somewhat hot pursuit. he looked back & forth. the snake was a python smirking winking coy an eye going open & shut like some whore conning. downing the last of the maroon. when it went for the eggs the neighbour lunged the cat the rat he jumped forward & they met at the high-noon of a collision course. it split his eyes open. the bed was wet stinking of his urine & faeces.