Shel Graves' Sensorium

Taste: the surprising sweetness, the slight bitterness of walnut meat and oil Touch: the smooth slightly slick from oil wrinkled surface of the walnut and the way it translates to the tongue, bites of it are both hard and soft Smell: soft nut: walnut Sight: the brain shape of the walnut; a small table shakes with the vibration of the printer on top of it as it releases pages it stumbles forward brass handle first like a small steampunk robot Sound: mewling, the very first sound a human makes a strained cry of helpless distress; dislocation of sound the frightening sensation of not being able to locate a sound, scary and disorienting no matter what the sound is a familiar voice or an echo, sounds unidentifiable at first coming from outside Extra: the more things move and speak the more apt we are to name them and try to engage in conversation; in ancient times everyone believed objects were imbued with life

Taste: a dry red wine, the tannins strong like alum on the tongue straining moisture Touch: a delicate fuzzed red prickly fruit with skin that bruises and smears at the lightest tough Smell: salty, pleasantly bitter, orange, an Indian restaurant, a simmering pot of autumn beans: ground cumin; a tart cranberry truffle Sight: Seattle artist Don Charles' animal sculptures made with bronze, leather, tubing, nails, and spoons, Spoon Ram, Spoon Musk Ox: the little faces that look like they belong walking around in their own world Sound: muffled emergencies — an attempted robbery, an urgent need ignored, and annoyance — barely penetrate deep winter sleep: too much darkness, not enough iron, not enough vitamin D, perhaps depression? Extra: Longing and dreaming vividly of something lost, an aching affection ufulfilled. But what? But what? What is truly desired in the waking world?; nanobots, the singularity, slowing or halting senescence, "The empires of the future are the empire...

Taste: banana shake and honeyed nuts Touch: growing older and more sensitive to cold, wanting robes, socks, gloves, hats, scarves and slippers; a lightweight face cream the perfect consistency of moist skin not too heavy or waxy Smell: the unexpected powerful aroma of pumpkin spice, meaning nutmeg, cinnamon, and cloves - this is not the way a bathroom should smell, it is the short lady blond haired older lady there with the knit cap Sight: dark chocolate cocoa powder staining my fingers; red strands of saffron twisted and curled like DNA each cluster inside tiny clear vials at odd angles and those inside a glass jar, like cheap toys dispensed from in a vending machine Sound: boisterous laughter and the tone of voice that makes the words, "Go get a gun." non-threatening Extra: I have recurring oceanic dreams of my friend with sex and sharks and breeching humpbacked whales. They are horrifying and inspiring.

Taste: coconut curry milk chocolate, Theo's strikes again Touch: smooth wet kidney beans Smell: his honeyed skin Sight: a steel pot full of soaked black beans shining purple like gemstones and ready to stew Sound: rhymes with Yo Mama: Obama DJ Mega Mix 30 minutes of catchy hope loops, "He loves you and he loves your mama," "yes we can," "we are, we are!"; a soft low voice that I like to listen to on the television and the radio Extra: Overheard outside the hut at the community college: Girl smiling, "I'm voting for my first time." Guy: "Oh, really? Obama?!" Girl: "Yeah!" Guy: "I don't even know who that other guy is."