Book of the Fallen Blood Moon

Chapter 10: Thunder and lightning bear smash the squad

Host of the true and the brave and the innocent

infinite speed at any moment at the last moment in the moment of inertia

for the myriad gods and mothers and guilty soldiers

who believe in the lie of the dead, to play a weary slow dirge for the tortured

across the misty beach at night with the cold wind blowing hard and the roar of the surf

And assume the form of their various days, your thousands of days and years of the dream

white sheets would blow in ghost windows where it lasts and you forget time

sit at the slowly floating piano playing beautifully and sadly

human shapes like pearls under the full moon of her ripe days

gentle gristle of rubbed sea sand, the whales and elders, to the seagull and rocks

The foamed spray and salt air, all lost to time

like the gods of fallen heroes, covered in long dried black blood, deep in the ground

the piano would at times actually float apart, gliding and then moan before it smashed               

and then trillions of wooden pieces, all put back together before the morning sun rose

and then out of its joints and then its life without mass, only light and non-time fishing

And then like a modern hand gun

and then it forming itself into a black metal bird, large and alive

and then it rains out across the wet rocks in a musical production

and then like a sharp bell shaped retort, gabriel’s horn never ends

shooting its own ivory into the endless galaxies

And at that moment a large wave did flourish and a rush of gargantuan sea flotsam

and in its chaotic dictatorial force it flung me across the jagged rocks

boom and then carried into the hereafter with all absolute violence extinguished

all inundated by the appearances of shades in the nothing, as they did appear

and tumbled about by roaring white sea foam , cleaned of material force by my dome

deeply down into the darkened night at the bottom of the sea

where all kisses cease to be

a place where only the new rain was ever born from again

a place lost to the world of the dark abject spirits

those deluded advocates of material satisfaction

Back to the one free and absolute peace

where the memory is not  forgotten, and the thoughts are light again like a child

back to where the green wooden boat lands softly down, in the pages of earth