Flashing screen, wide and bold and lights all through my eyes, diving, star neon projection peeling back in acid blooms, folding inside my eyes and brain and shriveling my nerves
The teacher wheeled the projector into the classroom and a hush ensconced the students. They all became antsy with anticipation…they waited for the lights to go off, when their spirits would instantly deflate into a state of relaxation and lazy watching. CRINKLE, SNAP, CRINKLE, CRINKLE, BRRRRROOOOOOOOM!
It was my favorite part. much less messy and intense. after all the cleaning, cutting and setting, dressing and recording, I finally got to enjoy my work.
The last thing the man remembered was that it wasn’t painful to be hooked up to the machine. He was expecting the hooks and plugs to hurt as they sunk into his flesh, but he only felt a faint numbing sensation. He glanced up at it. The machine was large and made of brass, and its gears clacked and hummed as it roared to life. Upon the white wall across from the machine appeared the face of a young woman. The man stared at her, at her black hair and sapphire eyes. A tear trickled down his cheek, but for what reason he couldn’t even remember.
This was the 213th time the engineers had ran the machine. They had gotten quite efficient with their work.
I saw the projector beaming white light straight at the curved ceiling. It was hard to understand where I was. After a while I realized I was lying down. It was hard pushing up but I finally did. What was this place. White walls no doors, only a crooked projector face up on the floor. What’s next I thought.
My dad had a projector. That’s how we viewed all the family photos when we were kids. Now we just put stuff up on Facebook. I miss the smell of the thing, burning something I’m not sure what. And the warmth of it.
The projector stood dusty and broken – a stark reminder of previous times. Times when there were such distractions as movies, and television. Times when survival wasn’t the only thing that mattered.
his eyes
a projector for
all of the silver
sable stars
i imagined existed
outside of my
limited
view
Flashing screen, wide and bold and lights all through my eyes, diving, star neon projection peeling back in acid blooms, folding inside my eyes and brain and shriveling my nerves
The teacher wheeled the projector into the classroom and a hush ensconced the students. They all became antsy with anticipation…they waited for the lights to go off, when their spirits would instantly deflate into a state of relaxation and lazy watching. CRINKLE, SNAP, CRINKLE, CRINKLE, BRRRRROOOOOOOOM!
A projector can be used to display writing and images at a teaching session. It is a clear way of imparting knowledge to others
It was my favorite part. much less messy and intense. after all the cleaning, cutting and setting, dressing and recording, I finally got to enjoy my work.
The last thing the man remembered was that it wasn’t painful to be hooked up to the machine. He was expecting the hooks and plugs to hurt as they sunk into his flesh, but he only felt a faint numbing sensation. He glanced up at it. The machine was large and made of brass, and its gears clacked and hummed as it roared to life. Upon the white wall across from the machine appeared the face of a young woman. The man stared at her, at her black hair and sapphire eyes. A tear trickled down his cheek, but for what reason he couldn’t even remember.
This was the 213th time the engineers had ran the machine. They had gotten quite efficient with their work.
I saw the projector beaming white light straight at the curved ceiling. It was hard to understand where I was. After a while I realized I was lying down. It was hard pushing up but I finally did. What was this place. White walls no doors, only a crooked projector face up on the floor. What’s next I thought.
My dad had a projector. That’s how we viewed all the family photos when we were kids. Now we just put stuff up on Facebook. I miss the smell of the thing, burning something I’m not sure what. And the warmth of it.
The projector stood dusty and broken – a stark reminder of previous times. Times when there were such distractions as movies, and television. Times when survival wasn’t the only thing that mattered.
Anger weighs black on your tongue,
heavy, like licorice, and twice as sticky.
It stains the white of your teeth,
the whites of your eyes,
until those bright windows go dark,
and the projector flickers
and I am left wondering
when you drew the curtains.
d