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."
