Excerpt

HASTUR ASKS FOR DONALD GLOVER'S AUTOGRAPH

a‖

In his house at Stone Mountain, real hip-hop Gambino

stays woke.

In floaters, he can see spacetime on opposite

ends of a line of scrimmage, watch them collide into

nebulae

to the point where he can't even find himself out of that mess.

He doesn't really know sleep. There's too much to know.

Before the entourage parks outside the 2013 version

of Sway In The Morning, he's already seen how it all

middles.

His gaze collides with the higher homes so hard he sits

in the studio sleepy-eyed and static. He has no problem

telling

folks they will all die someday. He gives away

Nostradamus

in thirty-two bars. He donates his barstool philosophy in

place of a chorus.

b‖

The other realm is lit like neon purple-green on sparklers

while the eldritch Elders sup sauce and complain about

their complicated family lives when Donald Glover in

a maroon cape floats by on grace. The Peacock King

himself flags him down before he can disappear,

and goes, 'aren't you in the wrong place?'

'Bino says, 'Nah'. Hastur goes, 'I don't think you wear that.'

'Bino says, 'I wear whatever, man.' When Hastur

asks for an autograph for his shapeless niece, the pen

bursts vertices of truth all over the girl's wings,

but she plays it off like it was nothing. They gawk at

the dude like he's so huge, his own orbit's unbeatable

even by apathy. He'll forget their faces shortly. The idea

of it will probably vex them all so much. He'll take

the nihilism with him, though.

c‖

If 'America' is in the title, it's documentary.

First off, the man in that footage has no name,

or is named 'Hopelessness', or is named 'Legacy',

or just answers to hawk-cry. That ain't Troy.

No matter. Both of 'em lucky to be alive,

but one got on a boat, allegedly transcended all of this.

The other dreamt tendrils of things it shares a name with

until anxiety turns solid inside. The other tried to film

what he saw, but the lens kept finding things to laugh at

no matter the angle, even the bodies. The camera turned

and opened its jaw on him, shattered onto him like a

lightbulb,

and the truth, frayed, started screaming curses. No, that

ain't Troy. But he's in the frame somewhere.

d‖

Twin Peaks: The Return, Part Eight, 'Gotta Light?'—

something bursts in the desert and gives birth

to darkness that waits to be consumed fresh.

Crawls into ears like lullaby, crawls between lips

like offering. Takes advantage of those who sleep.

Goes looking for fragile light to try to eat.

Atlanta: Robbin' Season, Episode Six, 'Teddy Perkins'—

Darius just wanted to pick up a sweet piano.

Turns out that goodness is often light-sensitive.

Turns out that darkness leaves all of its windows open

and makes lullaby out of everything. Turns out there's

a duality in everything, and there's blood

everywhere. Light takes its own life before it can be food.

Both episodes kill fearsome dread with humility.

Both tell you to run from what lingers in

wooden rooms.

Both are bright and odd, end in flat light burst.

And plus, Rotten Tomatoes loves them both.

e‖

You ask him about chaos in front of the late-

night studio audience. His autograph changes

shape before your eyes. You ask him why he's so

nonchalant about death. He reminds you

nothing is more freeing than knowing the cosmos

isn't attached to you. "It feels like floating,"

he says. "I wish I could still have that,"

he says. Uneasy, the late-night host tries not

to look one tall audience member in the eye:

mustard coat, wriggling sinew, all grins and hollers.

The host asks, "Why can't you have it?"

"The cosmos just won't leave me alone."