Sunday, April 8, 2012

Andromeda is a spinning firestorm in the night sky.


 Andromeda is a spinning firestorm in the night sky.

A dwarf sits under a bridge smoking a reefer. He watches the slow-moving water swirl and eddy around his feet. A hunchback looks out, over the top of the railing, gazing down at the beautiful creature he sees below. Ten thousand fairies dance on the head of a pin. The sun spins out of control ejecting solar flares. Beyond the morning a chocolate cookie falls off a child's tray. The baby crawls away to avoid a spray of gunfire. The burning pellets pierce his flesh. He is born anew from warmth and oneness into pain and bright light. Black Angels storm through luminous night, raging to the heavens their lonely plight. Madness crawls around behind their fiery eyes, like maggots searching for a sweet surprise. Hornets sing a haunting song. The dwarf decides he must move on. He removes his clothes and wraps a golden chain around his legs. Jumping in the water he floats in clouds so high. Each lining is sewn with bloody entrails from an Aztec sacrifice. He craves a sausage sandwich, with sweet relish, and the eyes of a beautiful woman gazing back at him.

Blood smeared on the chemist's slide. Silken sheets beneath she writhes. Come and sleep with me my dear, crimson concrete flowing near. Coming together we two meet, Bodies alive with our heat. Your armor shines resplendent. It is a glimpse into a hidden shrine. It holds a brilliant mystery. Andromeda is a spinning firestorm in the night sky. You cut off one breast. Your arrow finds the heart of your enemy. Your bow is strung to make a piercing cry. It is the last sound you prey will ever hear. Their last light is your shadow in their eyes. Rivers of blood pour through sand.  Frozen sulfur drips yellow icicles. Orange eyed panthers stalk the night, the smell of fresh kill on their breath.

Stay out of my swim lane asshole the buoys are there for a reason. The butterfly is the most beautiful stroke the human body can perform. Eels and octopus are best with wasabi and pickled ginger. The stingray swims with the moray eel. What a boring fucking life you lead you fucking bitch, lost in your bi-polar episodes. Where does darkness end and day begin?  Stepping into the light, you blister and burn, this reflective of your psychosis. Everyone calls you normal. We all have two faces, don’t we? I wish I had never known your private persona. The depths of hell reveled to me in your embrace.  I fucked you and poured myself into your body.  You kept me there for your own foul purpose. Can children of the dammed be embraced in glory? 

But I digress.

In the time between the ticks of a clock she rides his dripping body. The sun is unrelenting accusation. The wind is cooling salvation. A dark moon rises over a black lagoon. The night bird screeches hunting.  She sighs. It is an exhale of release. All mankind’s hope rides on her perfumed breath. Crows feed freely on a battlefield. She wants the ring and so cuts the finger off to acquire it. Raised high it reflects god-rays to the heavens.

The jester awoke with morning light. He took a hat from the ancient gallery. He walked into town. He came to a window. He looked inside. He saw his mother gazing at her own reflection. She was trying to not to cry. “Where did my youth and beauty go? So very precious was it to me. Now I have lost all that I came to love” He moved toward a window and he looked inside. He found his mother sleeping there and he began to cry. His face contorted with the time a guitar sang a screeching rhyme. His ears are filled with dirt and mud. His eyes look inward, pulsing blood.

They are not two but three as one. The taste of him is salty on their tongues. The heat of his flesh is overwhelming on their lips. The scent of his body fills their senses. All the rest fades away. All that remains is him, only him. In this moment his need becomes their need. They feel the beat of his heart and the strength of his life as their lips caress down his beautiful body. He is that mysterious primitive essence which completes. They yearn for this which is not part of them to become them. He touches their soft hair each in turn. He pulls them towards him to feel their warm breathing against his stomach. He guides their hands to stroke his core sending waves of sensation in a circle between them. Like shining rain in a thunderstorm ecstasy spills from one onto the other.

Every road leads back to you. Every Journey lies in you. Lead me home my lover Savior. Lead me home my sweet Redeemer. Lead me home and I will rest in you. 

Luminous Angels mock my journey. My voice becomes a coarse whisper. “I find it soothing,” she says, as she draws me near. Can I survive the experience of this life? Hang the laundry on co-axial cable to dry in the sun. Glue a wing back on a fairy so that she can fly again. I run with a herd of wildebeests. We charge through a cloud of dust raised by a thousand hoofs. We surround our young to protect them from lions. When the butcher Sherman led his mercenary army to the gates of Atlanta, only women, children, and old men stood against his hoard.  Only the old and infirm are left to feed the predators.

Rewind 

Sharing a view of the city at night; the cars below us flow around the buildings like a river of light. In the morning in Baja, we swim with dolphins, we hear them laughing in the waves next to us. Sunbathing on an isolated beach, coconut oil drips on hot sand, the salt dried on your shoulder is sweet to my lips. We swim in the blue pacific. Raising my arms, diamonds of sea spray caught in the sunlight cascade down onto us.
Once, in the town of San Miguel Allende, in the Mountains of Northern Mexico, Kayla, Dee Dee, and I ate mango together. The sweet juice ran down our faces. Laughing they told me if I could learn to coax the sweetness from a mango I would understand how to coax the sweetness from their sex. In the ocean, Kayla strapped a knife to her leg when she wore her bikini. She always swam topless. Her breasts were magnificent. At sunset Dee Dee preferred her Bombay Safire Gin stirred gently in a gold rimed martini glass, with ice and one green olive. In the evening Kayla wore black leather and loved my Galliano. Dee Dee was elegant in a red lace gown and favored my Armani. I loved them both but Kayla was my favorite.


Epilogue: 

"For better or for worse I only stop to look back at times like this. Mostly I live in this moment, right now, and I'm grateful for it. I know that most of this life lies behind me, but what I live for is today, and for the tomorrows that remain. My eyes are bombarded by the sights of this beautiful world. Every breath has the rich fragrance of trees and flowers. I'm privileged to be alive to share these wondrous feelings with you. I toast our fallen comrades, all of whom live on in our hearts. 

I can honestly say that I've lived my time here fully. I hope that you'll live the rest of your time to the fullest. I don't see any other good way to go." 

~ Tony Curtis, from "American Prince"