Friday, November 29, 2024

The One About The Oozing Sores


They tell me I've become less gutteral, more lucid

But because i've lived more a heretic than thou

I should ride out pain like some martyr to the sins of All

Dance out my stories on a tawdry stage

A dance that stomps, backwards

Dear aunt Chamatilly's favorite verse for me:

The One About The Oozing Sores

But seeking out mind alteration is in the same family tree

As vicious accommodation

As religion

To deal with how the most powerful urges are

Also the ones that make no sense at all

An answer that also makes no sense makes the most sense

I give you:

The Institute for the Preservation of the Mthyuh Preservation Society




By Missy
Preservation Day Address
Journal of the Institute for the Preservation of the Mthyuh Preservation Society

The dead, the dead of, and the dead to


tree growing in its own jetsam and rot

strains reason from the vagary of thought

every dream refined to the quest for light

the dead the dead of the dead to all fight

with the glory of stars newly risen




[Traditional]

Thursday, November 28, 2024

The Blue-Eyed Seminole


A judge granted us each a restraining order against the other, but that was already three 5-year cubes of human time past its expiration lagging behind like a momentary and lifesaving act of cannibalism when we both ate mushrooms from an autistic shaman and yours didn't have any effect because of the type of antidepressant you were on and mine didn't show me my spirit animal but we were able to figure out between us that yours is The Blue-Eyed Seminole. I'd like mine to be Dick Van Dyke or Shamu but it turns out that under current circumstances the two of us together must follow this single Earth man's moonlike and scantily clad glow. Parts of our brains can see him glaring down from the face of a painting or standing out in the yard. He tracks but does not intervene in the volatile triad of bastardized great Danes, the result of breeding experiments, a poltergeist that has formed in our sphere of responsibility, a small sphere, admittedly, and which challenges us in nearly every moment to be strong and to rise from our cares enough to impose order on our house, a house of ancient nobility and brotherhood with nature, Her silt, her DNA, coating the carpets paintings books coats; our family shield, 3 dogs playfully trying to mount one another ad infinitum, reminds us to be alive to the teeming animas, all of us creatures with fears and desire. We follow our guide blindly and groggily. As we sleep we see his silhouette in the glowing blue rectangle, the bluish scar on our optic canvas from hourly superhuman forays into virtual dimensions. We see The Blue-Eyed Seminole cast a heavy blanket on a flare of anger or when he sparks a desire to get out and walk. His eyes don't tear up in the bitter cold, but his cheeks become livid and fierce. We had to trek this far to find him on his turf. It feels to me but it's hard to say for sure if he's the one who will lead us through the borderlands. 




by Jan

Tuesday, November 19, 2024

floor


 

Saturday, November 9, 2024

Make a pyre in a ring of iron


Pass time unmeaningfully

Rest in a place of uncaring

Surrender to the call of napping

Flail in your sleep with abandon

Grab at familiar handles

Basic functions are a luxury

Planets are moving involuntarily

Appliances waken automatically

Collect these moments in memory

The year sluffs off all around you

Gather all the deadened units

Make a pyre in a ring of iron 

Send it all to the heavens




[Traditional]


Wednesday, November 6, 2024

Respect me


 

Lidda ones



d'planet drew a deep breaf

an took off from isseff

itta bin pre-decide it

who be leffin d'duss

d'ones who suffer d'mos

an dey lidda ones





by Missy