"He thinks he's hallucinating" m

[alice wellintown]

But the blots, Turkey, sez the Lawyer to his Scivener. The spots, out
out spots, sez Lady M. Who can ignore THEM?

He lay and puffed his lips out with his breath.
And then - the watcher at his pulse took a fright.
No one believed. They listened to his heart.
Little - less - nothing! - and that ended it.
No more to build on there. And they, since they
Were not the one dead, turned to their affairs.

Take the marks, the parts of speech, the lines, phrases, clauses, the
sentence types and kinds, the enjambments, the caesura, the rhythms
and rhyme, all what the poet put in, OUT OUT ....and you have a
provincial newspaper story and not a poem found or a found poetry, but
a poem lost.

> applying Occam's razor:
> let's say that consensus reality rules; that Doc, while perceptive in
> many ways, is also gullible in others
>
> how about that postcard?
> He's not so far gone that the postcard is a hallucination. But perhaps
> he believes in it a little more than we need to.
>
> Doc would've told people about his trip - that's the fun of being a
> hippie - and Shasta's circle of friends (and maybe handlers) could
> make a postmark easily enough.  We also know somebody tampers with his
> mail, at least enough to mangle his teen porn magazine.
>
> Bigfoot?  Mickey (and the monkey)? the people watching Mickey? Boris?
>