looked upon

The weather changed five time in six hours.

Even though it was today it became yesterday and tomorrow, a few times.

Sun, clouds, rain, sun, rain.

Observed through frames of picture window panes.

He had slept on the left side of the bed, next to the radiator; because, she does not get cold.

Every night for the past week, while waiting for sleep, she imagined crawling out of her own lying body,

like pulling the weight of herself out of a manhole.

He wondered if she finally looked upon her own sleeping face.

(found scrawlings on canary yellow)

I felt your shape and your breathing,

heartbeat sneaking in.

Breathe in the scent of my sternum, right there in the valley between.

I smell for you.

All written in canary yellow.

Masks melted onto faces.

Fuzzy beasts.

“Bespoke never beholden. You look good on me.”

“Then put me on, I want to be worn by you.”

Crickets singing

becoming mysteries

Where does your Pendulum currently swing?

Through what strange currents does it cut?

Can you feel it slicing and whipping the air about your crown,

whilst I watch?

Nearly knighting you, incising each shoulder, ever so slightly,

In ruddy, slightly bloody, rushing reds.

Let me decypher the etches inscribed into your collarbones.

I become the Mystery when I hold the Mysteries in outstretched hands for others to see,

speaking invocations and evocations in wolf howls, silently.

Notice the bizzarchitecture built into streets, hidden hexes of energetic vortexes corralling prancing ponies in immediacy.

Magick of the municipality.

Three goes into ninety three, thirty one times, evenly.

Thirty one is to thirteen as both these numbers are unto three,

in terms of divisibility.

Thirty one is thirteen looking into its own reflection.

As we are both prostrated on knees before the pendulous swing,

suck upon the fingers three which I present unto thee.

Parsiçal giggles to Æ

“You have told me nothing that Æ do not already know,” Æ tells me, sternly.

I grin, with closed lips, then

I say, “Oh howl. Is that what we were doing? Let me have another go at it.”

I do panto like I am a junkyard bitch barking and straining her neck against an invisible chain tethered to an imaginary spike.

I smile broadly, with both decks of teeth bared.

I suddenly spit out, “I once lit a candle that burned for two days straight despite there being not enough wax left.”

“Ostensibly,” he shrugs.

I cock my head sideways like a curious animal.

“Be quiet. When you try so hard, you always get in your own way,” Æ mutters.

“Oh howl. I thought that was the point of what we were doing. To let me stumble against the obstacle of myself,” I giggle snort, a bit bratty.

“Are you as confident as you seem,” Æ asks, seriously.

I howl in laughter.

“I did not know I appeared confident, Æ. I’m confident that life will render me unconfident often. If I am properly challenging myself.”

“How do you think you appear?” Æ asks me.

I reply, “Great question. I’m confident that I have no idea how I seem. Because, I am inside me, and cannot ever perceive myself. But, I’m the one that gets to experience myself as I am, regardless of how I appear. It used to be ‘I think therefore I am.”

“But, now?” Æ obliges me.

“Now, it’s, I’m seen therefore I am. It’s a real narcissistic shift.”

“So, then, what do you know?” Æ asks.

“All I know is that everytime I ‘think,’ I do not know.”

“And, when you don’t think?”

“I know I am.”

“How are you then?”

“I’m super, thanks for asking,” I giggle snort.

Æ rolls both eyes.

I smirk.

“Hey! I just made up this joke for you, Æ! Do you know it?”

“Tell me.”

“What’s the difference between feral, spitting of saliva and enunciated speaking?”

“…..”

“An audience!”

Æ smiles coyly. “Æ do like it when you spit your seemingly inane nonsense into the hole between my lips.”

My eyes go hard.

Hooded caverns.

The snow came overnight and stripped all the colors from your sight.

Even the televisions lost technicolor.

It was all like it was before.

And everyone else rediscovered outside

while we explored inside,

below, then above, the old quilt.

Hands rubbing flesh like flicking sparks from flint.

Thawing out tongues pressed against icy appendages.

Hot breath pronouncing as smoke, in short

vaporized bursts.

Dragon breath lighting dormant pearls contained in shallow

hooded caverns.

Petals under the bottom retaing their flush.

{darkly hushed whispers}

I could remove some of your dreadful readiness; but, to do so would be to denigrate the events within your human condition: Æ says to no-one, in particular.

Speeding along another dissolution of ego through hard knocks followed by unseen but well-heard giggles in the darkness.

Æ said you wanted kindly unkindness: I whisper to no-one, in particular.

Spurning me forward, as I spurn you.

You drew the five of swords, sweet sap of sorrel.

Æ said to tell you that death is a mercy you do not deserve.

How dare you?!

I dared to accept this personally æons ago, dear. Thusly is how I dare.

Tears spring from his eyes.

I begin seeing bleeding horizons, bloody in the sinuous, poet trauma symptomatic of a new birth.

It feels like a backyard, handmade, waterslide, whereupon you sweetly play, dripping;

And given you remain unconcerned about getting grass burns on knees from all the slipping and sliding,

you may have a real devil of a divine time.

You may be rewound, house proud, town mouse.

Let your prise punish you;

you mashed my berserker button.

Teutonic fury arising between my lower limbs.

Never try to take a medal from Muttley the Magnificent.

S/he has many sharp teeth.

corporeal conjuration.

The entheogen that is your your proclivity, inclines me.

That would be my preference, thank you, kindly.

My acting aloof and disinterested becomes my inclination at times.

An odyssey on this odd sea.

Honing of my symbiotic synergy in our exchange.

You want me to howl for you?

Then restrain and discipline me before

I do so unto you.

The struggle that makes your breath short.

The venom that your karanika painstakingly kills you with in dreams, because nothing dies that is not already dead.

So what is the purpose, here in the taking of this meta-sacrament?

To see my shadow, my doppelgänger, and

let Æ out to play.

Another pair of entities at the Pit of the Pylon,

alchemizing the ephemeral into wave currents which conjure the corporeal.