3.11.11



About three-thirty in the nighttime, I came across a makeshift temple with a handwritten sign.  Anyone that trespasses will be recruited.

The sky is alight with a form of distress signal I am unfamiliar with. The stars are not quite still, but alive with vibration as though the earth’s mounting energy obscures the clear deep space. Leaves close as com/radicals dart away into the greenery. Running along they trail fire with the ironic confidence of Hansel and Gretel.

I am drawn to this warming flame, it leads me. If the way out is unbound and clearly open then the way in is too clear. Without boarder crossing, without fence caging. No wall to leave messages for others to misinterpret, or to tell of a particular angle. Left unbound to play with fire’s emotion and the appropriate longing to inter/fear with the fire. All’s fair, so there is no need to qualify the hankering for the inner war of passion and the outer, too real. With eyes of fire no one can see. In this is confusion nothing is forgotten, only left behind.

I’m hit and assumption fills the being I am. Dropping my chin I see an arrow protruding from my breast the see the blood leak and rush into the earth in an anxious soaking to become one with the subtle energy that we all belong to in the end.

Looking up, I sway to an ancient internal rhythm and fall onto my knees. Eyes see vulture forms as ink spots above me, then twist and depart as if they were a mere thought flushed from the sky. Everywhere an echo of the outskirts of civilization.

I now long to take a partner by the hand. To follow and join with the parade I am slipstreaming into, but my mind turns and sees only one. Anteros is wiping his tears as he laughs at my shocked numbness. Not asking nor waiting for a reply he turns and haphazardly lets another arrow fly. It is shot into the sky power/full straight and at its far zenith levels, overcome by the earth’s pull of gravity. The weighty point leads a graceful arch down from the sky. Somewhere another is hit in the back. This victim’s victim wonders why, even as he knows the answer.

The moon fades to blackness and I am left alone without senses.  I hear no longer the breeze through the heavy flapping green. I see no longer the details of this plane, only three mutinous shining moons. Three romantic old men mocking each other. I feel no longer the heat of a burning heart. Only a low resonating hum that becomes deeper, stronger and overwhelms me. Aware of a nonexistent kingdom so close that the only wholei/ness is the roof of my mouth as it expands, extending to exist beyond.

Not seeing the possibilities can sometimes be a half Hallelujah. 




11 comments:

  1. Vivid. Great writing, as usual. Love the drawing too.L

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  2. nurture the inner three-year old,,,,

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  3. Ah, gimme that oldtime religion!

    This has a very primal and pagan feel to it. No way would Anteros succomb to such modern technology, though.

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  4. Was this an Aussie Breakfast? Think I've been slain by Anteros' arrow Damned unrequieted love.

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  5. Baino,
    No, but this looks like the length. Is that it?

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  6. isn't the way in always too damn clear? just thinkin... oh and love your done pile... nice...

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  7. Hey! Don't think I didn't notice!

    :P

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