the ever savage breath of

creation

 

six grammar school toadstools

and three paper computer chips

spilt into the trilogy evenly on

the eve of the new moon under

libra. we ascend the wooded

hillside to the campsite clearing

around a stonewalled fire pit

dug into the bluegrass knoll. we

climb into nylon cocoons, mine

red, neut’s green, moa’s blue.

we incubate in our pseudo

wombs a collective primary the

color of light. the wind returns

with answers to our prayers as

conductor of our symphony of

signature frequency in the ever

savage breath of creation. we

shed the skin of ourselves and

melt into opalescent puddles of

a primal begotten. we grow our

wings in the firework flashbulb

bursts of a spaceship paparazzi.

metamorphosis made, eclosion

in unison, we walk the dirt path

to a prairie grass field under the

forever black and white blanket

of the heavens. moa floats afoot

with me as i spin slow cardinal

circles of oracle awe and merry

apocalypse. he makes meadow

angels with neut to spirit trip the

cosmic light fantastic with pax in

his mundane corporeal familiar.

we are called to return to the

site of the tin foil sacrament’s

ingestion. neut takes a detour

into an esoteric umbra for an

eon of revelation while moa and

i murmur rainbow smoke signals

on a carbon dioxide davenport

in the tentative temple of maple

and tie-dye tapestries.

moa breathes life into an

interdimensional didgeridoo to

call neut back from beyond the

veil, a massive beast of ghost

flesh answers first, formless

and hungry. i complete the

conjuring by drinking from a

small glass vessel of lemurian

tea, wave away the foreboding

black mass smothering the

underbrush. neut appears in the

passage, gifts me an ancestral

crystal. we descend further into

the forest toward a stage on a

steep cradle of glade. soapbox

center we perform. moa dies the

good death, neut plays a bid for

power on the aforementioned

aboriginal horn, and i conduct

with gusto.