The day the aerobarges arrived

The robbers hasten their liquor store evacuation, the day the sky barges arrived. Turns out, there was no need.

《》

Effie was aset at the burled wooden desk, plate of blackberries, the culprits bleeding on her fingers. The barges drifted past. She heard them before she saw them. The cat had been fretting all morning. This reduced her surprise at the surprising.

She heard old music. Old timey. Pressed for phonograph. Tinny music. The kind men in fur coats would Charleston to, while drinking: alumnus attending the homecoming game of his alma mater. Girls twirl like it is the 1920’s. Reservedly untoward. The dance is all in the eyes.

This flashes in her mind, a daydream of orientation. Her curiosity piqued, she makes for the front room, with its huge picture windows, framed by newly painted, unadorned white walls.

Picturesque, but now the Douglas firs partially obscure her view of the aerostrocities. They move at a painfully slow knots per hour.

Ima grab those blackberries. They are not in rush and I’m hungry as eff.

She pops them ala popcorn into her mouth, watching. Her neighbors begin to venture outside. Some voluntary evacuation necessitated by a craving for speculation. The steely comfort of hearing someone else acknowledge the surprising, and then say, “I think it must be…”

Their words crackled like burning logs, the freezing air making every word they spoke become the smoke. Hazy veil from the heat source warming their fear. Tirefire.

Effie watched them, too. Actors on the stage.

To call a stone panther.

The braches on boughs broke.

Lying lifeless. Casualties of the white out.

Lost soldiers, abandoned by their unit.

Under the weight they could not withstand.

Only now revealed

Sheets melted.

Perfect circle encircling more circle.

Inside.


There is a blackstone panther, she re-enlivens each night

A path of sprawling

Stalking prowl.

The little girl awaiting her bus told me so.

She tugged my coat and pointed as I passed: I see her at night.

Does she have a name, I ask?

She just nods and waves.

Passing,

I smile and turnaway.

Exhausting Dreams

I’ve been consistently sweating in my sleep.
Dreams in the same neighborhood as the swaying structures
Only now we are not pedestrians.

Nor roof top runners.


The vans return.
Mass panic.
Drunk, drunk rednecks.
And, disenfranchised swarming points of public services.
No one seems rich.
Or perhaps the rich are unseen.
Alee and safe from our strife.

The previous night, the riots/disaster broke out.
Some truth revealed of which I discovered myself involved in
Through familial inheritance. clandestine.
Unaware until that moment.
Strange feeling of alienation.
Now that I know my involvement, my allegiance, must change.
My family has implicitly caused the suffering of many. With at least a bit of awareness.
<With too much intoxication?>

We leave a keg party in the woods.
A young man, Hunter

I went to high school with this blonde

Son of a politician [in the dream].
We were not friends.
He was in a higher clique, multiple levels.
That said. he was always kind.
I am by far the sober one.
But have the deepest of dread about driving the
Super drunken party.
As in, if we get pulled over by the cops (sic. American cops midst a crisis….DANGEROUS) it is more important for me to ditch the carload and make for this public center. That looks like the Tuscaloosa Library

(ed. note: before ‘tuscaloosa’, it was called Druid City. Point in case, the biggest hospital is known formally as DCH- Druid City Hospital. Quite magical considering the Magic City is only 45 min. NE.)


Hunter offers, kindly yet foolishly to drive us in his huge red truck.
Within two minutes we are clearly going to crash and hit a metal solid post. I think:
1. Hunter’s father has the sway and motive to save his son and the party to the crime. That is if we/they ever make it to trial. Which is questionable. The state of AL is in shoot first question later mode.
2. I will bail from the truck before impact IF impact is inevitable. I have great confidence in my ability to time and gauge this.
3. Amy is the only one in the truck I feel loyal obligation to. I fill with dread. We have not spoken in years, and she feels like dead weight that I am responsible for. And I intuit she may feel the same way about my own prescence.
People begin to reach up and try to snatch the wheel. This is ok by me.

Somehow we avoid crashing.


Amy bails.
I bail.
We freeze

And look at each other. We did not plan to bail together.

We apparently were just similar minded in how to handle the problem.
I indicate with eyes: I’m going my way. Do you want to come or go?
She crosses the road towards me.
Before she finishes, I’ve started running toward my destination.
She cannot keep up.
She arrives later and is pivotal in assisting me help the people my family

tacitly, indirectly, hurt.
(Ed. Note: she loves her family. They have never truly hurt her or even let her down in waking life).

We save the day after a protracted dance of:
She distracts and alludes the vanmen outside through camp.
I evade them inside while finding and sneaking people.
From this multiple story structure that winds horizontally.
It seems to grow ampersand sprawl.

The people often resent my help.
Some refuse it.
An armed faction of the people I’m trying to get outside decide me a hostile enemy.
Complicating my evasive action.
They change forms. An elite force.

At one point, í beat a crow to death, over and over it came at me, with a tennis racquet. When I looked on its lifeless body, felled upon the second step of a staircase, I fill with dread.
I killed it in fear it was a transformed enemy. In retrospect, I cannot be sure that I had not just beaten a confused, agitated bird to deæth. Maybe it was just a bird. Then the whole question stops making sense. I feel confused but on the run. Time, survival.
end: successful but incomplete.


Cut to last night.



Same place, same time.
Only, I embrace the role of driver.
My car.
Interstates flooded with water and cars.0
I dodge and weave impeccably.
But, I feel exhausted and stressed.
Then, I know when/that I should/ to

pull over and rest.

The panic inside me ceases.

The disarray outside continues.


I drive people in and out of the city all night

(I would not describe it as a nightmare. Not even as a bad dream.

Just a tiring, surprisingly self re-affirming dream)

*

I Tense My Neck

With back straight,

Í asked you, “do you try hard too?”

The snow reduced me to pencil,

#2

Bleeding out my pens proper.

Wondering about that table of six í auto-gratted

in the Tavern five years prior.

My lead cracks.

Mark darker.

And then í find,

one pen left in my fold.

Shortstop

Between run and go.


A dash of dalliance

Unconcerned with with prose that came before

Or wilt

Would be.

Her hands would shake?

Ledges are not only

but also for leaping.

They told me “no.” Which is always within rights, but í was left confused.

Í cannot remember asking anything


Lend a

Hand, right?

Play your vinyl

Remove the album sleeve.

Put your diamond down, glasscutter.

45 rpm.

I see none involving nengk.

I feel like a chemist when I boil water.

Astood upon three toes.

Oops

now four.

And the sky matches the ground.


He told me we ought to blow it up.

The snow.

Cuz of the moon.

An allotment of the ailment is being carried

By wagonmasters & confronters.

I pay attention to your punctuation.


Sometimes my teeth bend but don’t break in my bad dreams.

Of getting ready for Gertrude’s party

That never happens.

Disproportionate response.


Unreeving.

Receive the rowen.

We worked double overtime.

And looked into your mother’s eyes.

She could not smile then but she does now.

As assiduous as inexorable is

My final defenses are indeafsible.

A prerogative disinclined toward extravagance,

As much as the silver sliver of

The new moon is caustic

And the lurdan lurid.


The succubus and incubus work in tandem.

One pulls rope and the other gathering eggs.

No small surprise they work in sleep’s misty revue.

A dæmon to a dreamed of demon that never derived from the proper diabolical.

A small child born.

A mom and dad.


And suddenly you stroke your chin,

And I miss my train

Of thought again.

Scraps of yellow bits scatter my room

And I sit indian style.

Crossed.

Bow drawn. Arrows all a’quiver.

Quivered and quivering.

Set asleep amongst the Ingessana Hills.

Children recover souls they did not know

They missed.

We are the doctor-diviners with a sleepy second sight.

We dream the dreams the sleepers cannot fathom

Until awakening.

There is no need to fear.

I see none involving nengk.

A Concealment of Collective Nouns

Morbid effery from the monkeyed,

Landed gentry.

Luxurious as late night coffee with heavy cream.

Laden.


All the crawfish fixing to get boiled.

Cloves of garlic

Resting on claws

Coalescing correlations.

Corrections to iterations

Deshelled and /de/tailed

Consumption.

Silver eyes against armor-alled all red

Whiskers a’faced to

Terraced tails.

Rampant mud and bug

With a dropped bouquet.


The slow crawl of the limited engagement

Leaves above my head.

Shining.

Í will make you look up and remember the sky.


You forget your breath

(Ampersand)

You lose a life.

I forged injunctions

Duplicitous & with steely reinforcement.


Silversmithing.

The pleasure of the written word. Consummate.

The change in our handwriting over time.

Fingering out your new font

Of pen scratch.

Scrawled.

Sprawling.

And my rhythm dictates a tempo for our saraband.

Shorthand.


You should always carry a handkerchief.

Cotton is fine. Print or naught.

It is not you that will use it

Anyhow.

So remove from that top drawer.

Overly ajar.

《》

A black rectangle

Framed in an indigo field. Ræching.

《》

What do we know of destruction?

Or why the paper need be canary.


Elongation in enunciation is

A mispronunciation.

Two blankets for the two ankles outside

Tonight.

Headed stones of fuzzy beasts

Sette

Atop footed cherrywood.

Vascular knotted circuitry

(<subterranean>)


A slip of the hips,

a flick of fingers.

Full affront of the suites

Merely one of a sort of resorts available

To your privy.

The pluck of pages.

Should they dissuade?

Is it prey to the præter-?


They said some really mean things about some really mean people. What do you suppose that means?

Felled and befell.


Sometimes it is hard to tell an l from I from a 1.

But no one ever mentions this.

A notice noticed. Even if misunderstood.


I drank the coffee to stay

Sharp in my sleep.

I sleep with a steno

Padded

Petrified enfossil.

A sordid seizure of a hardened fruit pit.

Dishollowed.

Where countenance meets disposition.


Heavy like

Wet denim.