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[finished:] Call, Stipulation, Apperception and Rejoinder

DrewTM

The sun raises itself, like a wraith, from the sea
the horizon bares itself with a snarl,
and I am coming to realize that what is arrayed against me
is nothing as simple as a rotten impulse or molded habit.
It is the whole weight of my days, assembled in ranks,
their length and measure wound around my wrists, my neck.
My righteousness is an armor of glass,
utterly transparent in its construction and inevitable defeat,
and obdurate, as I grasp swiftly but ricochet off the surface.

The plane of opportunity wanes orange, purple, blue-black.
This frequency is cloistered in calculation,
measured out in tinny spoons, sutured irretrievable.
A milestone ago, an octave to come, have fermented and coated my throat,
like wet on a black deck.

I strain to see eves and gospels from below imbricated shingles.
When the children of the sun fall down my chimney
they are coated in dryest gray to lie in ash and smoldering embers.
Standing, awkwardly watching, mouldering in this de facto display case,
all the moving lights, red and white traces--living, breathing, crawling emberkind--
fill my vision and trap my thoughts.

Come from the horizon, wind-dog, air-lion.
Blatant heat is all I ask of a sun.
I dare you to inject chaff into the walls of these trees that shade my house
to hurl me against the panoramic, rocky apparition through my windows.
Suck all the coals and stars through my body as a filter.
Suck my body through the air, into the water that must fill the Big Dipper.
Impale my feet on a carpet made from shards of TV antennas, lofted high into space.

Strip the earth. Strip the air. Strip me, body and mind.
Suspend me facing full-on across the altitude the lights and the endless apperceptions
contained in this clay-pot, cracked, treasure-trove world.

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2/25/2008 08:46:00 PM



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AUTHORS
Fred (premature academic)
Dalia (not afraid of nothing)
Drew (sub-creator)
Ryan (tangling futures)
Daisy (tap the sun)
Matt (two-line king)
Nick (rats and wreckage)

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