That sparkles all different waters.
I live in a haunted house, it is 4 am
My limbs are freezing, once again
The witches and goblins here will kill me
And that will be the end of me.
I feel cold scared and numb
No words, or way out, I feel quite dumb
I feel like I’m being watched day and night
Sudden terrifying images give me fright.
Bad things lurk in the dark
Life used to be a lark
Something funny is coming my way
It wants to hurt me and say:
I stabbed your eyes
I stabbed your tongue
I cut your toes
I sliced you up.
The darkness inside of this house coils
Where I go my blood boils;
If I die the demon will smile
If I die the demon will revile
The life I lived
The girl I was
* i te teror 2
No way out nowhere to go
Where I go I do not know
Flighty caged and weak
I hear the voices when I speak.
Quaking aside dark dreams
Of bombs and ghosts and murders
Where do I go? What do I do?
I am scared for my life.
I feel like someone will open up the door
Open it up and peel me out
Eat me and spit out my bones
I’ll die with no tombstone.
Where do I go I don’t know
To an early grave I’ll go
Once more you I salute
I’ll play my magic flute.
Found: December 27, 2018, growing in shelves out of a living White Oak tree
Pileus: 8-9 cm, convex, lined at the margin, color vivid teal, glabrous, white ridges appressed to the surface
Stipe: 6cm x 4cm, white, dense, curved, equal, no ringzone, hirsute
-younger specimens transparent, with mushier flesh
My oldest friend, how fare thee now?
Though a block in the night separates us—
Your window’s glow practically lights my own—
Yet in my heart you feel more distant still.
Where have the tides of life brought you, these years?
How comes it that you return to this Wood?
My heart leaps for a thousand trite questions;
It returns to the moment you kissed me.
When we were children and all the world fair
Nature had circumscribed blocks for our love
And put up houses without beginning
Or the end which gradually we brought up.
All of that time surrounds me now, and
The fabric between us
That no matter we grow apart
Tethers all is, will be.
Burnt to the ground
heart a waste
tired and drained
Abandon all that I begin
stuck in my head
Found: December 13, 2018. Standing in the kitchen with no lights on behind her.
Head: Dark brown hair falling to her shoulders. Chin a pert bump on her face, eyes twinkling. “Did you use that toilet after the whole incident?”
Disposition: Wrathful. Aggravated. Frustrated. Pessimistic.
Tone: Whining, half-yell.
Head: Dark brown hair (long scissor cut on top, four on the sides), cheeks cold from my walk.
Disposition: Confused, indifferent, positive, surprised, empathetic.
Heard: You don’t care about anything.
Maybe you’ll start caring once you own your own home—if you get to that point.
Thoughts afterwards: I do nothing?
I care about nothing?
Focus on your mushroom.
Remembering: Why I left.
Found: Amanita oneiria. Growing out of a mesa.
Pileus: ~300 feet, white, umbonate, wavering margin, reminiscent of Inocybe albodisca. Smooth. Unornamented.
Gills: White, crowded, broad, free.
Stipe: 3-400 feet tall x 50 feet wide, colored as cap, membranous veil, smooth but firm.
-I blinked and the mushroom crumbled. Voices on the wind passed through my ears before fading into eternity.
I can’t stand this country. It is vile. It is dirty.
I swung shut the door of the stall behind me. My fingers groped for the rusty bolt.
Into…a gang bathroom, one toilet next another.
Lowering my pants I let out a stream.
Man this country is vile.
I looked at my reflection above me. Cold, my cheeks had turned to rose and the tip of my nose was pale. The lapels of my great leather jacket lay atop my shoulders like wings, and, above the zipper I could see the rounded top of my sweater through which my collars ascended.
Could sure warm up a bit.
I redirected my stream from the porcelain to the mirror.
Hot gobs of piss splashed against my reflection, sending yellowish beads left and right.
This country is vile, I thought, just vile.
Oh my god said someone next to me.
Delight on my face I let the stream course out even more strongly. Like a waterfall droplets of mist sprayed everywhere. Soon my face was soaked.
Drops dripped off my chin. My cheeks shone in the light of the bathroom. All around me I heard voices of disapproval:
—It’s not right
—But someone had to do it
—Just look at him, he’s in his glory
After I finished I hiked it back into my pants. Then I washed my hands and washed my face. I walked out of the bathroom with the other men.
like the sun
I pluck you from rain-wet grass
wrap you in aluminum
and put you in my paper bag
Icy Morning Mushrooms
Barnacles on a log
Silk and velvet polypores
Where shifting waves peel open blue,
On my sea chair
I rock up and down a cold emerald wave.
Where am I?
Poised between sea and sky, where
With their tale of deserts and limes.
O decaying world, in the mind I seek
Rest, and waves, sun, and pale
Untrammeled sky, ribbon of myself cut
Again and again.
Out the window at the green and blue,
Earth connected to sky by lightning-armed trees
Devastation without and within.
I clutch a pale hope
That song can
Heal the world,
That music, balm of ages
Will flood the world.