Casi Cline
André Breton – Lighting Up” 2015.
Collage John Richardson/John Welson
Late Wednesday Morning: An Adventure with André
André awoke one morning tangled in his bedsheets almost to the point of asphyxiation like usual; however, today he had managed not to have a plan. Without bothering to don his somewhat moth-eaten petticoat, he strode straight out of the cavernous hole he had been sleeping in (a large pore in his landlady’s left breast). Leaping from branch to branch with a lack of agility quite his own, André made his way to the house of his ex-lover still asleep in the arms of his rival, the giant octopus who he had once called friend. He shook her awake, and the moment she opened her eyes, he leapt into the green sea of her left iris (he had a thing for left, so much more interesting than right) and instantly transformed into a sea cucumber. He wiggled his way along without any obtrusive concern for his person. It seemed his luck was holding as beautifully as something he couldn’t think of right then. The brain of a sea cucumber can be a bit unwieldy at first. He was surrounded by any number of sea creatures (monkeys, tomatoes, shoe-horns, his grandmother’s dusty imitation mistletoe, etc) none of which paid him any mind. He wandered down the cleft between two quivering mountains, passed a small crater, and entered a dark, lush forest. He entered it on legs which belonged to his mother and saw it with eyes which were his first lover’s. He skipped along a river into a deep and moist ravine. The walls were soft and pink and led down into a warm, wet cavern. André went inside and made a blood sacrifice with his weeping womb.
