Recently I was provided the opportunity to smoke DMT, one of the most confounding & intense experiences of my life. It is difficult to reconcile the out of body, death-like experience with the simplicity of this ubiquitous compound, found in mammal brains & numerous plants, including acacia. I felt death. On coming out of the “rush” (lasting about 4 minutes) I exploded out into the world, breathing rapidly, feeling as if I had been reborn. The expansive insight & ameliorating aftereffects of the dense, short-lived trip, are very affective. I wept for the fragility of life, I also laughed at the magnitude of life’s beauty & rareness.
I have never written a poem about a drug experience, but this was a different kettle of fish. What the experience confirmed, what I asked the drug to confirm for me, in fact, more accurately to show me, was symbiosis directly. It produced this for me in the form of a dimension formed from a breathing, intelligent, very conscious geometry. A geometry made of the visual data of animals, insects & maybe something else beside. I entered this world of geometry. When I touched the physics of this world directly, it produced fractals of more geometry, which communicated something through the rapidly morphing shapes my geometrically transmogrified (finger?) ability to touch directly, produced. It was like touching the withdrawn qualities phenomenology tells us exist on the dark side of the perceptible world. I was inside the withdrawness of objects. How would I explain to Graham Harman that we can access the thing directly? We live symbiotically, we must—as I keep hammering home—think ecologically. DMT is an ecological experience. We are ecological beings.
follows deep in-breaths
staggering breath-in aggregate.
whoever breathed this way without a chest?
inexplicably everything. everything inexplicably...
& we chase our way around each others’ hearts. strangely
formatting scope. the whole sphere breathing out a metaphor. a
withdrawn impact. speaking objects into existence to prod fixatedly
at their amorphous world-defyning properties. co-lapse in the prepuce
:priapus being. diddowill you gnothis. treegore your inner resource: get paly
with plant and fauna. they own the world. they are world. the earth is a plant.
I-earth. I-plant. I-metaphor. I-object. I-thing. I-O. I-do. I-see. I-taste. I
exsponge wet lips cradled in the grammarred weight of historic molecules.
do you gyre at yourself. you diddowill. you must end. you are ending.
I will end so many times & yet the end is only a sur-prise of a depth
we fail to locate in the dawnsing-nightmare numeralled-darkness.
you trip on para-sites parade-eyes in the seat of your summons.
ship stalled winds in the sales waves osmanthus panic-calls
flush flesh & flash in the geometry that is & does
cross thresholds blending boundaries & dawn
splitting & marring the glue of the dark.
what reasons for persons gives
persons to reason