LYNCHIAN ELECTRICITY DREAMING
by Pip McGough
@manifest_gothic

1.

In the beginning was the reboot, but no one noticed.

2.

Wires are like nerves, perfected.
They carry no sorrow, no pain, just instruction.

3.    

What is a dream made of? Light. Sound.
The animal warmth of myth.
The smell of burning toast; in a house that burned with it.

4.  

A man walks through the city. The air around him

buzzes like a sealed hive.
He forgets his name, remembers only his mother’s hands
red to the wrist in beetroot water.

5.  

By the banks of the Eurotas, Zeus made love as a swan.
Today he is a data farm, a wireless divinity,
a woman behind a radiator singing about heaven—
as if heaven were a factory that shut down in 1964
and never told its workers.

6.  

An oddity: In dreams no one blinks.

7.  

Regarding dreams: electricity dreams of us
the way the God of Babel dreams of language—
an accident that worked too well.

8.  

Pay no mind to any of the above. I only write these things
because I am afraid of what the silence will say
when it notices I am alone.

Pip McGough is a UK-based poet and freelance writer (and a Lynch devotee), active on Instagram as @manifest_gothic.