All in the pen...
An excerpt from the minutes of Alain Villein's first and last parole board meeting, the original transcript retained as part of the release agreement negotiated by the Donkay member and inmate. Duplicate here from a Villein post the day of his 1989 release, his first submission since the day of his conviction 10 years prior for forgery and impersonation of a government official. (Translation from the original French was done 'in house' at 1430.) The "he" mentioned is a former cellmate of Vellein's whose name was redacted by the prison.
"And when you were transfered to E Block East, Mr. Vellein, the nighttime songs of #***** continued in the same manner. Am I correct?"
"Yes. 'I'm going to bomb the futures market,' he sang, marvelously. 'When the dawn breaks over the Potomac I'll sail my skiff like a Hudson River Valley School Anti-Christ onto the banks of the District, disembark, bark up a tree, wallow and wail against the throne of Lincoln, gouge my eyes out in the reflecting pool, and scale the fence to the White House with a second skin of dynamite duct taped to my breast. You snipers in the cherry blossoms take aim,' he said, marvelously. 'You'll miss your mark remarkable; you'll remake your life from behind a one-inch hole. You'll wonder how to break your son and daughter, the opportunity of a fund gone, breezed away like the stray bullet with which you graze my line. You have no spur to prick my intent, my intense release will itch your dreams. Your wives will collapse in the corner of the kitchen with secrets of the state once pressed against their ear while you thrust the power of the office against their sensational cervices. I came out. It was a relief to say so. Women and Men live on the species train, embarking and colluding in the night on dangerous sooty ledges. No singular tribe has proven themself to me. I admire the terrain of Tora Bora on Earth. Liquid hydrogen yes, please and oxygen, made of atomic words. I want poems to incite Amiri. Gift baskets on the futures markets, collapsable economies, detainees. Who your victimless mar, are the victimless marred, past all myth, an alley to the bakery at dawn, rose up on their own. Plucked by the patronage of the psychological compass, the big words are free to roam.' "
"And when you were transfered to E Block East, Mr. Vellein, the nighttime songs of #***** continued in the same manner. Am I correct?"
"Yes. 'I'm going to bomb the futures market,' he sang, marvelously. 'When the dawn breaks over the Potomac I'll sail my skiff like a Hudson River Valley School Anti-Christ onto the banks of the District, disembark, bark up a tree, wallow and wail against the throne of Lincoln, gouge my eyes out in the reflecting pool, and scale the fence to the White House with a second skin of dynamite duct taped to my breast. You snipers in the cherry blossoms take aim,' he said, marvelously. 'You'll miss your mark remarkable; you'll remake your life from behind a one-inch hole. You'll wonder how to break your son and daughter, the opportunity of a fund gone, breezed away like the stray bullet with which you graze my line. You have no spur to prick my intent, my intense release will itch your dreams. Your wives will collapse in the corner of the kitchen with secrets of the state once pressed against their ear while you thrust the power of the office against their sensational cervices. I came out. It was a relief to say so. Women and Men live on the species train, embarking and colluding in the night on dangerous sooty ledges. No singular tribe has proven themself to me. I admire the terrain of Tora Bora on Earth. Liquid hydrogen yes, please and oxygen, made of atomic words. I want poems to incite Amiri. Gift baskets on the futures markets, collapsable economies, detainees. Who your victimless mar, are the victimless marred, past all myth, an alley to the bakery at dawn, rose up on their own. Plucked by the patronage of the psychological compass, the big words are free to roam.' "
posted by M.N.V.L. Local 1430 at 3:19 PM
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