October 10, 2015

witching hour...

'The Night-Hag Visiting Lapland Witches', by Henry Fuseli (1741–1825)

witching hour

ready for bed after pissing 
urinal, temple let go
the racehorse dynastic rust parable
on sanitary napkin 
I spied its rolled heavy flow loose twine whorled 
haphazardly hazards 
we obstacle our bliss 
with miss width souls 
we want to be 
perfectly imperfect, every time 
blue mail box america 
once ago, rooted English language oddity...

red box and booth 
our continent is manifest filled 
with island ovaries pioneer spirit...

our old souls 
are painted onto 
old mountains 
we wish to know 
the many forms 
rain takes...

you decide 
what you want 
what you can hide 
inside the skin 
and bones, dog 
and pony show...

this time we keep track of...

it is all the caged whispers
velvet charades 
politics is playing parlor games 
we pretend you are serious 
and as campy as Vincent Price 
in The Raven with Peter Lorre and Boris Karloff 
midnight said have fun hours ago 
most life is hung up with emotions 
it is why bones and flesh 
demand palms at low tide 
wading the underworld 
Persephone knows 
just how many seeds 
to pry open infinity with
we are mostly impatient, 
wanting to come and be
the fantasy between surrender 
and the squeeze of almost 
sometimes when 
we are just about there 
we swear we knew 
every way to get inside 
the places where 
we become lost enough 
to say please 
might you be able 
to tell me 
where I am 


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