A Radio Dream

by Tim Carrier

My brother Chris is saying, ‘ & suddenly this voice was calling— ’

We’re in the deep-life field, meditating on some letters. Each letter lit on a single page.

R ~ Your outrage is not enough, says my brother.

Y ~ You are entering this part of your soul now. &

N ~ I don’t think you can be anyplace, or anyone, else, anymore.

Red letters crushed from seeds—red dye on thick sketch paper pages, with kind of like ridges—

Thousands of little hills to make a landscape.

Chris says, Free people are pretty dangerous. He means free from matter & time. There’s a topaz

with a thousand edges, hanging above our heads.

Chris begins to draw a dark new letter. The jar of dye is heavy. He says, Brother

, now we’ll have a better past.