The Sunbeam ain’t beamin’ for the sun no more

“They’re doing it,”
“What, what are they doing babe?”
“That thing to my heart again.”

Laying together in bed, she wraps her toes around his achilles tendon. It feels like someone’s making her heart beat twice as fast as it should be. Or perhaps it’s something, another entity.

“It’s like it wants me to know it’s around, it’s planning.”

“It’s okay,” squeezing her waist.

He half thinks she might be losing her mind with this. The television sets, they turn on by themselves. Static white noise, fuzzy lines and then those mind-bending alien sounding elf voices.

We are here to save you. Silly monkeys.
All you have to do is listen.

They were not trying to help. A planet of emergency. Cars hacked, driving off of highways, airplanes twisting into flames in the sky. Anything with a microchip formed a demented, senile mind of it’s own. They stole a spacecraft. They tried to escape it.

Drifting into the flickered white dark night. The tapping stopped. It must have been anxiety, she thought. It couldn’t have been that wicked intelligence floating inside of her, no way. They cruised around Earth for days, touching down on remote islands, foraging for coconuts. Maybe all of it would settle down.

When fuel ran low, they tried to steal more. The spacecraft stopped listening, started drifting out backwards. Turning the wheel, trying to bypass the mainframe, they just kept floating farther.  It was teasing them. The entity was a trickster.

“Guess we didn’t escape it.”

“Let’s try and sleep.”

Then she felt it again.

That cybertronic handgrab, a musclesqueeze from a different entity.  Hyperintelligent speeding nanobots constructed from other worldly materials squirming their way through her anatomy. Rearranging the nodes in her heartstrings, the wiring in her neuroplasticity, realigned, new pathways.

“They make me do things.”

Tap, tippity, tap. It gets faster, beckoning her, demanding.
Get up from the space pod. Take off the sundress.

Floating in their stolen Sunbeam, drifting through the soft, milky hue of shattered stars. Breathing and shaking through a cosmic bananashake.

Put on the monkey suit.

The machinery’s been hacked inside out. The spacecraft is sliding sideways into the ether, an ever-expanding space increasing between them and the Heatstar.

“The Sunbeam ain’t beamin’ for the Sun no more.”
“No honey, no it sure is not.”

He sleeps some sweet. She doesn’t want to wake him, not again, not for this. Pulsing sweats, tremors sliding in her sinews.

Put on the monkey suit.

She can hear their elvadigital voices, trying to hypnotize her alerting brainwaves.

This program does not compute.

“You want me to put on the fucking monkey suit?”

she screams at the spherical walls, “You wanna see me naked?”

They both know she’s cold. The sundress wasn’t doing shit anyways. Not much point in one of those when you’re floating light-years a second away from the only thing you’re supposed to don it under.

Their stolen little Sunbeam. Trying to runway from the digiplague. They didn’t know it could spread like this. Not to the pacemaker, not through her body. Escaping into nothing together just to die naked and alone while he sleeps.

She kisses the bubble of glass where his body steams beneath. Feeling his quivers beneath, one more time. Her sweaty hand slides, leaving a streak of water droplets.

One catches beneath, sliding down his temple. Half asleep he sees the dress lying on the glass above him. The pineapple pattern takes him back to the shop in Cadaques.  When she wore the red sunglasses and smiled so brightly in the market. He’d never forget the way she skipped around the fishmongers in it.

“No babe, don’t listen.”

The pod won’t open, they’ve locked it. Arms too weak to break the glass.
He watches as she shivers, lying naked on the floor.

If you stay there, monkey girl. We’ll bring him back to earth.

Little droplets turn into icicles. The streak of sweat, a frosted patch. The sundress like glass, shattered.


Frozen little monkeys floating into the everdark, voided empty.
To another story, through the wormhole.

Written by Rae Côté


When she comes
I know
It’s that
Deep pulse
Within and
I know to just
Breathe and
Release because
She destroys
She slays
It seeps inside
It works its way
Deep within
That crushing
Pulse it
Through me
All I want
Is just one taste
Of her soul
That liquid
Black succumbing
To passion
To aching
She needs
Me to fill
Her up
Her soul
With fire
I am
The dragon
I am
The stag
I am
The void
The reflective
In which
She can sink
Into me
Into herself
Written by Rae Côté


     remember that time you
completely disappeared

       Where did you go

   I don’t know

they stood single file outside
of the window and the door
                                     as if they somehow knew

                those were the only ways in

or was it that perhaps they knew
                          that was where I had once been

you can smell the suaveolens
       the guacamole ataxia
                                                     the bloodred

hang a lantern from an echo
                                    that was never even there

       what do you even say to that

dried nicotiana

sprinkled the kapala

in a bed of black seeds

as they came in one by one

The skybox

We had to conceal our laughter

as if we were children at midnight

you could trip and fall face first

down a dark—down a neon—chasm

so hold on tight and don’t let go until

it’s something subtle like a shift in the wind

or a call of a bird you’ve never heard before

like things with spikes on the outside

a dirty old guitar string that still sounds good

when you do that one thing with your hand

and the other one taps along like a drum

never playing the same thing twice for no one

just to feel a spectrum of waves wobble

through the warmth of suncrept bones

the unknown resonant frequencies of organs

and the relaxation of a jaw they moved

with bands across a desert of my skull

to form a monument of death is watching

waiting for the koto to start plucking itself

in the corner of the skybox of time

The 16th (I Ching)

what’s up
Jamaica, Macedonia,
Estonia, Mayotte,
am I made of cobblestone
that arch
and form one

flickering persistence
uses a proxy
like people

see those little
gaping holes of lemonlight
the empty voids
that make their way thru
just to show you for a sec

they got it in 8’s
like it’s an infinite             like
it means something repeats

did it
did it
did it
did it

a ladder
ride a llama
hydrogen atom


                               Bend the crutch
            into a [Z]

                                fold the rice paper
                     in half
                     from the windfarm

      it’s a beautiful day here
under the olivegreen oaks

              that we’ll burn

                                                          break it up
    with your hands
                                     your fingernails
we’re in no hurry

                                                         it’s sticky
                     to the touch

             a complex medley
                                    of aromatic compounds
nothing but good
                                                so good
             we knew it
                                                                 all along

                             add some hash
                                     why not
     it will last longer

                                                little cone
         wrapped tight
                          and sweet
                                     with a quick lick
       along the edge

                                                        spark the end
and breathe it in


                      like it’s the last thing
                                    we’ll ever do

the next one

Neon green and indigo

               What is this
                                  blipping in
        and out

we got five minutes
   then it’s back
and it’s always back
          it don’t matter

    how do you even describe
               the way the light shines
     gourdpoked and bouncing like a slinky
down the temple stairs
      of a wooden ribbed

           or a strike of lightning
     how the white
divides                            just nodding
with your headphones
               just wonderin’ things