TUNNELMAN'S BIBLE writing in progress...
We are both anonymous and fundamental. Each story unique and forgotten our boundaries collide and accrete as continents slip one under the other. One wins and the other becomes again another. Or so says the unabridged Tunnelman Bible. He called the origin of this process the Exquisite Spark. The embryo of it all. Read it in Psalms. Chapter five verse sixteen goes something like the following. I always leave off the “say to ye” and the “Verilys.” I am not a believer in anything. But don’t quote me. I cannot read in any language, although I aspire to. My memory is not as fully formed as my observations.
.... as it spirals with each turn more crap collects, one upon the other, to impose the structure of chaos on the heavens. We are living on the debris of that embryo, a spark in a moment so fine it exists only in sanctified memory. Henceforth I alone carry the testimony of memory. I am the Exquisite Spark.
Since they are living in nitty gritty debris, disciples from Seventeen, Montana and the Moab Motel which is out of water, interpret the thirteenth Psalm in general workaday terms, something along the lines of, If a bear attempts to leave, the dog will nip at it on the backside and aggravate it to keep it from running away. This deviation was forgiven because of its practical nature. TBG testifies that Spark is a kind and generous man.
TBG, aka the Tunnelman Bible Group in New York City, gathered every Friday at what they believed to be dawn. Tunnelman carried his enlightenment down there. The others needed artificial light. Mostly it was cooking fires for pilfered eggs and ham. The Eskimos lit hunks of left over blubber. People came from all corners to be safe from outside persecutions, forming a communist society of like souls, the special exiles from topside. Here by the roar of the express trains, they led normal lives, cleaned dishes, maintained dental hygiene, married, bore transparent babies, and kept the teenaged girls from influences. Except for my mother just that one time, no one attempted to leave the premises except to procure necessary contraband for survival, and the Tunnelman quarter was seldom overcrowded.
We are both anonymous and fundamental. Each story unique and forgotten our boundaries collide and accrete as continents slip one under the other. One wins and the other becomes again another. Or so says the unabridged Tunnelman Bible. He called the origin of this process the Exquisite Spark. The embryo of it all. Read it in Psalms. Chapter five verse sixteen goes something like the following. I always leave off the “say to ye” and the “Verilys.” I am not a believer in anything. But don’t quote me. I cannot read in any language, although I aspire to. My memory is not as fully formed as my observations.
.... as it spirals with each turn more crap collects, one upon the other, to impose the structure of chaos on the heavens. We are living on the debris of that embryo, a spark in a moment so fine it exists only in sanctified memory. Henceforth I alone carry the testimony of memory. I am the Exquisite Spark.
Since they are living in nitty gritty debris, disciples from Seventeen, Montana and the Moab Motel which is out of water, interpret the thirteenth Psalm in general workaday terms, something along the lines of, If a bear attempts to leave, the dog will nip at it on the backside and aggravate it to keep it from running away. This deviation was forgiven because of its practical nature. TBG testifies that Spark is a kind and generous man.
TBG, aka the Tunnelman Bible Group in New York City, gathered every Friday at what they believed to be dawn. Tunnelman carried his enlightenment down there. The others needed artificial light. Mostly it was cooking fires for pilfered eggs and ham. The Eskimos lit hunks of left over blubber. People came from all corners to be safe from outside persecutions, forming a communist society of like souls, the special exiles from topside. Here by the roar of the express trains, they led normal lives, cleaned dishes, maintained dental hygiene, married, bore transparent babies, and kept the teenaged girls from influences. Except for my mother just that one time, no one attempted to leave the premises except to procure necessary contraband for survival, and the Tunnelman quarter was seldom overcrowded.
