walking on mars
Mars is so kinky. I like mars. We all need to move there right away! Mars is a cool neighbour to have in this dusty dry old galaxy.
I had a dream that I was on mars the other morning.. I think it was partly from all the lovely drugs I have been taking since having my wisdom teeth out. Mars dust stuck to my spacesuit like paint as I constructed drystone walls of pumice-like stone, foil houses and clear plastic herbaria. Later I skidded across long roads in an electric vehicle with giant wheels. I imagine food deliveries falling from the sky, container towns growing like in the arctic, explorations going suddenly wrong as with a cave diving, where there are ‘no accidents only fatalities’. Harvesting ice to breathe, growing cabbages and leeks. I take my hat off to Elon Musk who may in my lifetime make these adventures possible, he anyway seems to have dreams like these.
Mars, cut open tastes like a lemon. This lemon inserted into the sky becomes the sun prick. This is the gin eye – or a vodka fridge (grin*) – however you can take it, mars can give it. Pipeclay creek near Cooma is redundant if we go to mars. Plant trees on mars. Cut rocks. Make gin cocktails and grin*, grin*. Like a hopeless marble bathroom filled with cut bits of people, mars is the dye that cuts into space rocket tinfoil parts. Pieces of half molten chocolate buried in cinnamon dust. rubber hoses and power lines sparking.