The box of flesh...
The box of flesh is about the size of a basketball, but square, and a little larger than the average human head. The most notable feature of the box of flesh is that there are no seams, and thus no obvious point of entrance. In fact, quiet the contrary. It seem impenetrable, and may in fact be so. Are you afraid it will scream if you cut into it? Why, exactly, do you think you need the God Code anyway? Might it just pour out into the grass or the asphalt (depending upon where you are standing) like blood gushing from a wound you cannot reverse the action of …
Or can you? The cut healing itself again and again as the wound closes over your knife un/gouging un/gush un/rush of un/blood. How is it that you didn’t realize you have been on the stage of this ancient amphitheater this whole time? The crowd is starting to disperse even though the climax is mere moments away. The dye in the water collects to a point then zooms back up into the dropper. This happens to be the very reversal of fortune you have been anticipating, all your life.
The God Code is now hiding in the sky having returned to rain while you held your own skull in your lap and watched it weep. At least there is rain, returning to the sky like the tears you were never quite able to cry. In a moment the lightning will fork out from the ground where you stand and return to the hand that would release it if it could. You see, this image is starting to fade right off the canvas and soon all that will be left will be the Mona Lisa smile of the cat that never was there in the first place. In the second, you were swimming your way toward the source of the stream from the ocean, a fish, leaping back into the womb of the bear’s mouth open to receive you as if you had never even been, fuel for the fire, fat for the long winter again, even though the sun is about to fool you into thinking a sea change of seasonal warmth is about to begin as you open the window and let the pollen swirl about you and clog your veins with unimaginable ambition and a desire to please the deity at all costs. Mind your grammar there, child. If you would become a man, address me as Deity henceforth, and all will be forgiven and you can nod your head in time to the funk as I prepare a feast for us all to gorge upon.
-Galen Wade (May 12, 2026)
I started a Substack under the name above (my name, Galen Wade). Well, I started it three years ago, but now I am actively nurturing it. I am trying to keep most things free, but this is the first thing I tried to put behind a paywall. So, I thought I'd make it free here. Get it? Got it? Good! I am listening to the Broadcast LP 'Tender Buttons' right now which I managed to find an absolutely beautiful copy of on vinyl. Well into Side 2 by now. So good! Hey, y'all, every now and again find a reason to be joyful
