I’m sitting in the living room of one of the greatest living poets. I’ve been invited here for a party, at which an informal reading is to take place. It’s midsummer. There is no air conditioning. The skin of each body in attendance is coated in sweat, to varying degrees. A man enters the room smoking a cigarette. He asks, half-laughing, raising his cigarette, if he is breaking the rules. The homeowner shrugs him off. People laugh uncomfortably. Others take this as permission to light up. The air clouds blue-white as the rule breaker is introduced.
Three years ago CERN scientists first observed a Higgs boson, also called the God particle. One year later Nick Cave sang the Higgs Boson Blues.
Can’t remember anything at all
Flame trees line the streets
Can’t remember anything at all
But I’m driving my car down to Geneva
It’s true I was removed from you
Yet I’m reminded to remember you
To remember you encompass me
A group calling itself Citizens Against The Large Hadron Collider warns that “even CERN scientists concede that there is a real possibility of creating destructive theoretical anomalies such as miniature black holes, strangelets and deSitter space transitions. These events have the potential to fundamentally alter matter and destroy our planet.”
In my mid-twenties I became obsessed with the drug DMT. I learned to manufacture this substance using plant materials purchased online. The end product was visually unremarkable, but smelled strongly of mothballs. After several false-starts with conservative doses, I packed a firm pipeful of the light yellow flake. I took in a deep pull of the caustic vapor and held my breath. By the time I counted to three, I did not exist. This was not something I saw. The context of being human was gone. This face was everything. The end of this experience was shot through with pulsing, crackling waves of white light, the physical discomfort of which beaconed me back toward normative consciousness. My sitter told me I had been incommunicado for approximately seven minutes. For the next two days everything I saw had red and green shadows, like a 3-D comic book when viewed without the accompanying glasses.
You must return before you leave
Hand and hand we precisely greet
Where the lintel and the threshold meet
Right now at the CERN Large Hadron Collider in Geneva scientists and technicians are attempting to tear the fabric of the universe to reach higher ordered dimensions. One member of the research team leading the experiment, Mir Faizal, compares our universe to a single sheet within a stack of paper. To punch through our page scientists will charge the atom smasher with 9.5 tera electron volts, the amount of energy gained by 9.5 trillion electrons after being accelerated by one volt each.
The wise men show that long ago is now
The term electric was first used by Sir Thomas Browne in 1646, referring to an object capable of attracting light bodies when excited with friction. The word electron is from the Greek elektron, meaning amber. There is a good chance this word was borrowed from the Phoenician elekron, meaning shining light. The ancient Greeks observed that when rubbed with fur, small objects become attracted to amber. This was humanity’s first experiment with electricity.
Our children sow the dreamers’ seeds
They are centered most in the waking state
The central point of a triumphant age
Nearly ten years after my first DMT experience, I’m thumbing through a book at a Buddhist monastery, where I’m receiving instruction in Shamatha, or calm-abiding meditation. I see the grinning face again. His name is Yamantaka. I speak with my Lama about the experience and he informs me that this is not an uncommon occurrence. Yamantaka is the terminator of death, aiding practitioners in awakening, thus ceasing the cycle of rebirth.
Age devours the prior age
Like rival birds of parallel power
The smoking man introduces his poetry. People fan themselves. He tells us that he was invited to the home of one of the greatest dead poets, where he sat and wrote poems at the same desk where the dead poet had once done so. People fan smoke. As he holds the page in his left hand, he thumbs his forehead with his right, between its ring and middle fingers, the white stalk of combustion, pinched just past the filter. His face creases at the eyes. The cigarette creases at the finger’s skin. Smoke rises from between his fingers.
According to the official CERN position on the potential dangers associated with operating the Large Hadron Collider “Black holes produced in theories with extra, compact, dimensions, for which the fundamental scale could be as low as 1 TeV, might be copiously produced at the LHC. However, only extremely massive black holes, beyond the reach of any accelerator, would be stable.”
His fingers. How does anyone in the room see anything but his fingers? His fingers are louder than his voice. His fingers are a song. He is looking out a window. He is saying that he is looking out a window. His fingers scream. Everyone fidgets. His fingers are Ash Wednesday instruments. Everyone continues to sweat. He is sitting in a chair. Everyone wheezes. He is saying that he is sitting in a chair. He is saying that he is looking out the window. I look out the window. For a moment, nothing exists.
PLEASE NOTE THAT THE OFFICIAL POSITION ASSUMES THE THEORY OF BLACK HOLE EVAPORATION IS CORRECT, EVEN THOUGH THERE IS NO EMPIRICAL EVIDENCE TO PROVE SUCH. THIS IS A FAITH-BASED POSITION IN THAT IT RELIES ENTIRELY ON THEORY THAT IS NOT SUBSTANTIATED BY EVIDENCE.
Time is a weapon of time
Text in sections III, VI, VIII, X, XII, and XVII. is taken from the Lungfish song “Time is a Weapon of Time.
Text in section XVI is taken from www.lhcdefense.org.