innocuously mundane.

She catches a chill and undergoes a shaking spell.

Then, she is overcome by an awful heat and feels each pore producing perspiration.

But, she refuses to yield to the wind’s howling blasts. Wet hair whipping her cheeks as she walks under the gray sky.

“I am inexorable.”

And, she is glad to have a little, physical battle to fight. Anything to distract her from thinking of her subliminal war.

And, though it is Friday night and she strides down Main Street, she passes no one.

She recalls how it stayed cloudy all day. The light did not change.

She studies her left hand, as she thinks she could be dreaming. But, it appears innocuously mundane.

“Daydreamers are still sleepwalkers,” she realizes, giggling.

Then, she feels too silly for her age and too aged for her years.

Unnaturally timeless. And, still, the moment passes but her face remains essentially the same.

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.

The Undercutters: A Banana Nut Muffin Introduction.

“You look ridulous.”

“What? I’m in all black. Scarf for my face. A colorful leotard beneath.”

“Scoff. The Undercutters use bandanas, not scarves. You look like a server.”

“It is my day job. Quite similar to yours. In fact, I have seen you wear that top and those pants at work, girl.”

“Well, girl, all will become clear. We will probably end up running from the police. Now, here. Take this bin of banana nut muffins and hide in the alley while I set us up in front of the bakery. They open in fifteen minutes.”

“What the fuck are we doing here? Where did you get these muffins?”

“I stole them from this very bakery’s dumpster last night. It’s what they didn’t sell yesterday. Idiots even collected them up in the box you now hold, before throwing them out. They aren’t even dirty.”

“Per se.”

“Oh shut up and do what I asked you to. We are gonna be legends.”

“Only cuz I am curious. Also, no legend begins with a box of banana nut muffins.”

“Yeah. This will be the introduction to The Undercutters.”

“Like a prologue?”

“No. The prologue was yesterday’s conversation.”

“No one likes a story with too many opening vignettes. Especially ones about banana nut muffins.”

“Yeah, cuz they are gross. Thank god you wore such an embarrassing leotard under your cover. Stripping off the black clothing to reveal a leotard? That will become legendary when you run from the police.”

“Why are we worried about cops? That’s a bit distressing. Especially since you keep calling us Undercutters.”

“Oh stuff it dummy. And, please, we are The Undercutters. “Undercutters” just sounds stupid. Let’s get set.”

“I need to know: have we brought muffins to a knife fight?”

The Undercutters: Prologue

“I couldn’t get accreditation. I simply lack credibility.”

“Too damn incredible, eh?”

“Am I working too hard?”

“Harder than most.”

“Then have I diminished my own returns?”

“Maybe.”

“I have a business proposal: The Undercutters,” says Effie.

“Go on.”

“Meet in front of the bakery at 8 a.m. tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Wear two layers of clothes. All black on the exterior, but colorful clothing beneath. Bring a bandana. We may wanna cover our faces.”