tin foil

astronauts

club

 

i was born

yesterday

on the back

of a turnip

truck.

 

i spent

the first

moments

of my life

in the

clinical

light

of a

lenticular

virgin mary,

dodging

with

invincible

frames her

grave

rubberneck.

 

eventually, i

learned to

shit with the

door open.

 

unfettered

road ahead,

i thumbed

innumerable

rides before

arriving at

the stark

realization

that the only

direction the

free rides will

lead you is

backwards.

the path

must be

traveled by

one’s intent

alone to

move

forward.

 

only

through the

relentless

exercise of

willpower

will one

reach the

heart.

 

i abide time

in a video

store that is

also a pizza

place, which

is in every

way the

modern

equivalent

to the bread

and circuses

of ancient

rome.

 

i smell of

coffee

and kind,

electric

kool-aid in

my veins, i

 

pilfer

words

from

the

ether,

 

arrange

them in

an ever

increasing

intricacy of

order and

entropy.

 

a cosmic

traveler

caught in

a quasar

that was

the

epicenter

of the

karmic

drama of

our

planetary

mother,

shattered

into

thousands

of soul

shards,

two

hundred of

which were

born here

in concert

thirty-one

million years

ago.

 

he was

hatched

from an

easter

egg laid

by a

golden

goose.

 

he spent

the first

moments

of his life

in the

sterile

glare of a

rush hour

horror,

hostage to

the

oncoming

headlights

of a ghost

ship with

no captain.

 

eventually,

he learned

to swim.

 

he abides

time getting

his hands

dirty.

 

he smells of

sage and

sovereignty,

california

sunshine

insides, he

 

paints

the

light

fantastic,

 

the sacred

geometry of

the ever

open door.

 

we met in

the bath of

a blood

moon,

born with

a tongue

in kind.

 

we found a

sacrament

the size of

an infant’s

index

fingerprint.

 

behind a

scantily

clad

cavewoman

circa one

million b.c.

we

tunneled

to our

freedom

from a

cell block

blue with

inmates

willing to

die in

defense of

their prison.

 

now, we

leap with

wanton

precision,

head first

into the

unknowable.