I stamp my feet demanding the hostage of warmth.
The eagle has a loping manner of speech that
infuriates the sand
it pinches the eye
it reddens the evening with that sudden gust
of words shouted out in the moment of flight
cut out from the gem that closed a heart
around it.
The snail of a heart flounces around for a while
its stomach spilling secrets no longer understood.
In the distance of listening
fuelled by the powerful motor of gratitude
the Fool makes good his getaway.
Here he is. He wants to leave.
I will not let him go.
Always on my palm he will wade
till his skin turns salamander waters
inwards to me.
“This said, the weeping youth again return’d
To the clear fountain, where again he burn’d; ”
-Metamorphoses By Ovid
The Fool approaches the man in water with caution.
Frog in the depth of wellness, his sunken eyes
flutter on the Fool’s own. It had been a long day.
The Fool’s sloping shoulders borne the weight
of the world; dying of thirst reached a fountain.
Called out for a hand to pour water where he lay
so his hand may reach the sun; plaything of the living.
“Steady” screams the Fool.
In the back of his mind bringing flint and flint together.
The world burning under the morning sun.
Awake.
Yuletide
As good a time as any to make amends
The Fool draws his own blood
forked wood; it speaks
while it snivels in his ears.
From my innermost prejudices, I call you
on my loneliest night I call you
at my meanest I seek you
revel with me my own blood.
Don’t be huddled in a corner
like a demon wassailing torn-heart
pleading for gifts freely given.
Far away two towers.
The Fool shuffles to the fire;
on his wicked brow dances
the ghost of cleaved wood.
Should he look up; stand and deep sigh
the Great Fishes in waters beyond.
How black her heart is
from her smiling lips her words bring unease.
Rapunzel I bring you fruits of a desert long-hidden
now she has come out of her veil
see her remove its veil
see her remove the veil
of her smile
more than you Rapunzel
you fade
you fade dear
her smile is my mask of death.
From the hole I emerge
This hole
a funnel till dawn-rain searched.
Streams running down my face
lashes burrowing with earth
burrowing in skin.
Paper-thin
a siesta-driven dystopia.
I drove back the mud that was my bile.
A clear spring.
I
lost in the ground.
Wrapped around leaves and veins
haven of blue worms
I curse you till my song starts to fade.
