COVER

35 Variations on a Theme from Bladerunner 

— Lost in time, like tears in rain. Time to die. 

AA D EEEEE IIIIIII LL MM N OO SS TTT 

Limiest not, eater silk Air Inn. Idiot teem. 

Lost in time, lie tears in rain. Time to die. 

Lost in time, like sobs in liquid. Time to die. 

Lost on clocks, close to tears on water. Death watches. 

Washed away, oil in suds. I must croak. 

Lost in timpanist, like teaspoons in raisin. Timpanist to die. 

Eipot emit niar (ni) sra etekil emit nit sol. 

Lost in time, like ears in rain. Time to die. 

Lost in me, like tears in rain. Time to die. 

Lost in time, like tears ink rain. Time to die. 

Lost in time, not tears in rain. Time to live. 

Lost, to wander, to have no sense of home, if you’re getting me, but with no physical or geographical bounds – lost in time – that which does not exist, to be lost in a concept, only, then, to be linked by the smallest thread of a metaphor – tears (flowing, wallowing, ripping arm from arm) among a thunderstorm (invisible, yet blended, to look exactly like you belong so well that no one ever sees you) so then, if not noticed, if not time kept, if not doused in clocks and birth certificates and shrouded in memory, why live at all? 

In time, like tears in rain. 

In rain, time to die. 

Time like tears 

Google Maps saying you arrived on time? And everyone’s watching you pull up? Eat shit or I’ll kill you. 

Roy Batty, you’re organic! 

Lost in slime, like beers in the drain 

like eats in pain 

like pears in Maine 

Found in endings, like nothing at all. I must move. 

To exist for eons under automation and programming, knowing nothing but violence and brutality, only to discover passion and mortality and poetics and emotions in seconds before demise. That blows. 

You did some things. Who cares? 

Time to die. Like tears in rain, lost in time. 

A) Pride pride pride. Time to die. 

B) Lost in time 

sloughed off sense of direction 

to the last pinky toe of our timekeeper 

and all our diaries mold 

and musk over with a finite scent. 

Skunk on road, like char imbedded grill. It smells. 

Adrift in pace, like wails in a flood. 

Deckard’s the same. 

Burn all the records, I know em by heart. 

All stones eat meals kinetically. Trite rocks then ruin nebulous meetings. 

Lode ice lie in elk’s earring. Animate cinders on dice. 

Law stunts, I’m trees ingrained. Thyme tour dines. 

I

do

not

look

toward

livings 

Going to the pub, I order a pitcher. Love getting drunk. 

Time is lost, away like rain. 

Death awaits me yet again. 

Does anyone know I’m here?