Book of the Fallen Blood moon
Chapter 5: Bread for roses and a dollar for man
There was a moaning in the feral
moonlit darkness, heard like an animal in blind heat
a screaming from the frogs ,
lilies and violins, burnished wood and shadows all around the ring
where the minds hole lets in
gold dust and white doves and flies off in a fluttering explosion
exotic jewels, the need in his
hand becoming a white golden crown , flashing spots in the brain
he kneels and cries out, arms
into the murky dusk of summers falling heat, fires on the beach
The man bends down and puts on
a coat of exhaustion ballet
the warp and woof of him had
made of him an adamantine texture, harsh and unyielding
his hands go under the
evanescent skin and stand up raised to the sheltering, witnessing sky
his fiber tough and knotty, he
collapses and becomes sword, sharpened and glowing in starlight
sand pours out from his eyes
and out drop ancient roman military short swords in a shining pile
Like a hole in the ground that
leads to yesterday, the absurd rules this lot and nonsense is archon
a guttural growl rambles out of
him and he screams like a bear, barking out orders to the air
grabbing pain, he makes a sword
and plunges it all the way into his chest, up to the iron red hilt
a woman jumps out and they both
looked out together, solid as the mountain forever entwined
streams and rivulets & it
falls to the sand and the last breaths and the blood explodes out in jets
His eyes close and his head
falls slowly like the diamonds in a flame
the man goes silent, full of
pink gritty sand; vapors blow around his inert gravitational mass
the ghostly shades of the seven
women fade away and forward and he is dead forever
kneeling in a pool of water the
bonfire burns all night long, from above a small orange flame
time has these moments etched
in her purse and she pulls and the wonders bring golden rain
The girl sits and bounces her
leg and twists her hair and passes no judgment
she watches it all from the
safety of the green boat, her heart turning over for the pain of man
the boat turns away from the
shore and moves her hair and she sucks on the end of some strands
towed slowly by the mermaids,
she breathes in the dream and there is no hurry or place to be
it goes very slow and she walks
on the decks sun beams incrementally towards the western lands
a wisp from the fire burning down
below in the hold, feeds the fading sky blue cedar smoke
She sits on the bow her bliss
across the old wooden deck the wind blows feathers around her
covering her face watching the
flow of her head looking down with long moving dark hair
her fingers trace spirals in
scattered sand and leaves, blue green waters whorl around the boat
the girl remembers her name is
echo and says it aloud to the green forest inlet as the tide pulls
out goes the breathing life of
it, falling down beneath the sea deep blue of cool dark night
Flowing and ferreting out small
sounds that echo up from the sounding depths, like an animal
moving lasciviously around her
body full of stars, wearing the costume became her universe
said the great I am, she
listened for, as the boat moved into the night again and stayed forever tossing
overboard a subservient crown and blessed the world with love to all in a song
dream
and then she heard from the
shore a moan, the man awoke from death without his deadly treason
he had not a thought in his
head
but stared acutely with his
minds deep eye at the ceaseless moving breathing body
an undercurrent of dirt with beating
living veins, drumming in blood, silent of thought
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