Konch Magazine - Vortices by Theo Konrad Auer

                               by theo konrad auer

                               Nothing is adroit today
                               not yet
                               I am all shamble and amble
                               from the get go
                               I take no pride in the making of this morning's coffee
                               and I am pleasantly surprised to find that it did not make me sick       
                               If I was to ask you, "Have you ever slept with the TV on?"
                               You'd think I just had.
                               If you are young enough, I think you might not know what I am talking about and why
                               I find it really sad that it doesn't snow on TV anymore,
                               I mean the loud, unrelenting tempest that would erupt every time the daily broadcast was over
                               like say 1,2 or 3am
                               As a very young child I used to think that
                               was when the television went to sleep and people
                               somewhere big and magical and far away like New York or
                               London are dreaming up mad spectacles
                               and small acute insights into the human condition dressed up as procedural dramas
                               or tragicomic one offs -  in any case, to answer my question that you are now asking me,
                                "I didn't, but I certainly feel like I had."

                               Last night I dreamt I rode in the service of Zardoz,
                               shooting down Brutals with much aplomb
                               with an accuracy one only sees in Hollywood or Olympic competition,
                               For kicks my fellow Exterminators and I, would attempt in vain to breach our nearest vortex
                               in search of immortal maidens made aloof by misguided ideologies which
                               have over time been disfigured almost beyond recognition
                               I hope this doesn't take you out of this,
                               but to be accurate in this account I must note that my skimpy two piece outfit chafed quite terribly
                               Though I think I would be a quantifiable hit on a Paris runway
                               and I was wearing a bandoleer that would shame many would be revolutionaries
                               Gradually the sky shifts in and out of sync with the soundtrack:
                               Beethoven's Symphony No. 7 in A, op. 92, 2nd movement
                               The sky which was at the opening of my dream Post Rain Blue is
                               now: gauzy, dusky, the color of a picked childhood scab,
                               does a wash and soon becomes television snow
                               and soon, as I avert my gaze from the heavens and look about,
                               I see that is it falling in fractal black and whites
                               - fade out -
                               Upon waking, I am thinking nobody seems to date anymore and
                               everything seems to date so easily nowadays
                               I am now  at some undisclosed point in the future reading these lines, realizing I was wrong about a number of things.