the free willed

road to love


the opal shimmer

mirages the center

of our sacred circle.

rippling slowly, it

grows nigh enough

to kiss us. the faint

taste of blood and

the warm sangfroid

of remembering.

the kaleidoscope

coruscate collapses

inward then bursts.

the bombshock

entropy pounces.

my ally grows his

tree-fro into a shell,

neut’s sings a sonic

shield, and the

breakfast-faced man

summons an orange

aura, all to endure

the impact. neut and

i are blown onto our

backs thirteen feet

from the annulus.

eleven three-foot

demons spring from

the wake, bent to

steal our breath

and shrilling in

disharmony like

sirens baking on

a brimstone oasis.

humanoid eyeless

heads with bloodied

mouths and smiling

purple skin boiling

over tightly wound

frames. neut’s ally

fends a fistful with

a deft kung-fu of

forgone fable, mine

with the fierce

timber mitts sprung

from the massive

braided branch

arms growing from

his tree-fro.

the man with the

breakfast face uses

sorcery, spells that

split the demons in

half and clears a

path to neut and i.

he disembowels the

sinew skeletoned

monsters siphoning

the air from our

lungs and grinning

blood on our faces

with a firecracker

snap of his fingers

then carries us both

underarm into the

pastel suburban

asylum and seals

the door behind him.

our allies already

inside, mine begins.


the four winds


prayer, the third

reading, is

drummed while

rooted for a slow

dancer leading

the fire. when

the midnight day

ends, a sigil

sewn into the

moment eons

ago will bloom

to light  

the free willed

road to love.


a series of portals

thunder open in a

breakneck roar of

applause. endless

amethyst seas of

demons spill onto

the lawn and

suffocate the

mayfield refuge in

their swell.


neut’s ally speaks



we’ve scored less

time than last, you

must leave now.

go, render the ritual!


the walls and ceiling

buckle. he throws

escape in our faces

and we exit through

the mirrored lenses

of one-colored