I’m so inflamed …
(the illusionist performs his bending pencil trick)
Now he draws
an inept mandala with the wobbly pencil
As he does
so he begins to enter into an hallucinogenic, visionary state
Feedback…
A bus…
The dead
man, falling…
A door is kicked
open by rabid coppers
I accept everything.
I accept nothing.
I accept the concert hall like the abattoir.
I accept the concert hall like the abattoir.
Like it was
built to repair speedboats.
Like it was impregnated with the sperm of a thousand curses.
And the toxicity of these oaths is seeping through the walls like rancid putty sap.
Like it was impregnated with the sperm of a thousand curses.
And the toxicity of these oaths is seeping through the walls like rancid putty sap.
Ego bickers
Ego natters
Ego clucks like love in a turkey hut.
A wash of muted birds run from one side of the hut to another.
Absolutely noiseless.
Their silent
stampede is gently brushed
By the soft
shadow of a swooping barn owl
Drawing the mandala to completion.
Drawing the mandala to completion.
MJC –
summer 2013
Photo by Dmitry Mishin
*"love in a hut" - Keats, 'Lamia'
*"love in a hut" - Keats, 'Lamia'
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