qwerty spirit board

 

i kneel at the

raygun gothic

altar in the

northeastern

corner of my

bedroom, pray

for rain to an

impatient muse.

 

blue light backlit

i find my hands

perched on a

ghost planchette  

over the black

and white logos

of a digital qwerty

spirit board. the

bedroom now

built with glances,

i tune my attention

to a soil recliner in

the southwestern

corner home to a

figure filtering in

from the ether.

 

a swell of static

arias, coalesces

with the electric

hum and pop of

an antique tube

television turned

off into

 

a curious pygmy

cyclops redolent

of a roswell grey

with green skin

and a pink tree

stump horn

above his single

humanoid eye

with a royal

indigo limbal

ring around a

rose-colored iris

and fringed with

fox lashes.

 

a train whistle

dopplers in

the distance,

a night wind

knocks a

series of dots

and dashes

against the

window with

the crooked

needled

fingers of

an adjacent

pine limb.

 

mouthless in a

byzantine

blanket sleeper

and grizzly bear

feet slippers his

words a pirate

broadcast

patched into

my head.

his voice a

still water

sandpaper

phaser in

a major.

 

do you know

what i am?

he questions.

 

an ally from

the land of

nod, need

we dance?

i answer

and ask

as i rise

from my

reliquary.

 

his eye seems

to smile,

we’ve already

tripped the wet

tangerine

light of

the full thunder

moon conjunct

pluto opposite

the sun

conjunct mars,

rode a

savage tempest

held tight to the

whip crack

back of an

electric dragon

to om. i am here

in this ever

present now to

witness your

recount of tales

from the ancient

future. you will

remember

your story

of tomorrow

as you tell it.

 

i feel the fate of

memory fill me as

i read and turn the

impossible pages

within the book of

the ineffable name.

bewildered, i begin,

always a path,

always a moon?

 

he blinks,

the repetition

isn’t accidental,

it’s literary

and mnemonic.