Funerary Transit of Fowl Marmalade

“Come back here, you wizard! I’ll bite your cheeks off – those furnaces of rouge, those blood rubies of rabid youth!”, the wizard ran, and off I went to ensnare him with a knot.

“Come back here, you wizard! I’ll bite your cheeks off – those blushing maps of caprice, those burning coals of honeyed longing!”, the wizard hiccuped himself into a tree leaf, and off I went to seal him and bring him home with me, where I roasted him in guava marmalade and buried him in a chicken leg behind the fridge.

Lulling Tickles in Liminality

Image by DarkmoonArt_de from Pixabay

As Darkness sways her regal skirt

to the dead’s drumming heartbeats,

I sit still entranced in silence until Being is

and all surroundings disappear.

Sea foam bubbles and kisses itself away in my ears –

the last remnants of the multitude storm

have no sway over the rock of protean lore.

The weathervane slightly oscillates

by the systole and diastole of breath,

reconciling lover and beloved

with the primal scent of lively opiates

in sightless search. 

And to commensurate the sweetness

of honeydew, roses, and rosemary blends,

all dreams entorched wed the shadows

in the tireless dance of visceral cantus

and hedgehog air.