virus: consciousness

psypher (
Wed, 30 Jun 1999 21:31:38 -0400 (EDT)

...since Joe started slingin' poetry [many thanks btw. Joe]
[to be read aloud]

...Cobwebbed networks of Asian ladies play mah-jong for high stakes
in the upper angles. Lattice laced windows look sharp out on misty vistas. In the shaded fractal borders where the shadows cast line up, ferns unfurl their jagged leaves and candles burn for light.

...Hanging plants dangle from silver chains strung from a wine dark
sea around a bird-machine above. In the centre, @ the apex of a hill of well worn coins angels dance on matchsticks and my tangled bits get joined.

...I play strange games of chance with cats - we wager fish and
baseball bats - the head feline wears a black top hat. His eyes are bright. He's sleek and fat.

...I dance like a dervish on a mongrel moon, the song begins at
sunset and goes til noon, its got tribal tango rhythms and the howl of loons, its an ancient primate mating tune.

...Apothecary bottles form mandalas of glass, filled with twists of
smoke and ash. Lines of salt meet lines of sand scribing cryptic alphabets from forgotten lands.

...The glowing atmosphere which serves for my sky is a seething mass
of butterflies. In turbulent patterns they spiral and dive. Every last one has humyn eyes.

...On the floor a carpet of fingers waves, spelling sign-language
riddles and the names of days - it's strangely attractive, sometimes I watch entranced for hours [but the words are hard to read cos they keep leaving out the vowels].

...The bony rap and clatter of carefully placed tiles cuts through
the scented atmosphere [you know how bad news travels]. The smell of burning sugar's mixed with smoking incense sticks, but a breeze from the ocean keeps it from getting too thick.

...The walls are coloured rainbows spread like oil slicks on streets
and some are hung with tapestries of dreadlocked hair and teeth. Every window, vault and doorway leads only further in, not out. There are spirits here and steely knives [but no beasts I know about].

...Sometimes tinsmiths hammer metal, sometimes ravens fill the trees,
sometimes I'd rather think me somewhere else - but I never seem to leave.

-psypher Fastmail's Free web based email for Canadians