A fleeting fancy

[revolutionR]

the sea was a doorway through the parlors of dawn
the bleeding sky had fallen like a harlots satin dress
the horizon held up the skeleton of the roller coaster
black against the blue flesh of the stars tossed
like faery dust across the void of her Venus
her thighs of darkness parted to let the mirror of the moon
pass, as the fabric of night hangs in tatters across the zero

I lift my eyelids toward the feint flickering phantasmagoria
they crash back down like a curtain of death, at the plays end
the moon burns a hole in my story book mind, moonlight fire
burns down my silver dreams, movies of swashbucklers
whirl around supernatural flames licking the legs of the dancers

I sink into deeper into the stuffed chair in the sunken rooms
now great paintings of history's unknown masters are unfurling
thought out my grain of consciousness, which explodes like a drop
of rain that holds the secrets of the ocean of my unfathomable
desire, now I am in the king's chamber like Jupiter's ghost
going down in a shaft of golden light from the crown of snakes

great moving feasts of saints and purple hooded enchanters circle
my tent of shrouds, my cloak of spider webs, my folds of forever
draped over the deluge of written voices marching past my skull
of departure, strange lurid singing of Lamias drench my blood
I'm gone though the hoop of eternities fingers, like the dew
of faery meadows shimmering in the beams of alien objects
owls are hooting somewhere outside my memory of oblivion

[justwalt]

thunder rumbles in the underworld

[the mingo]

the underworld rumbles in the thunder - how the hell ya doin' this morning ya ol' carpet bomber you ? which reminds me maybe i'll find some keypunching to do too - maybe make a samurai sandwich outta somethin' or maybe i'll just have some toast & peanut butter & behave myself for awhile - thank God all things must pass

[justwalt]

or maybe i'll just have some toast & peanut butter

bam!!

& behave myself for awhile

NOT!!

[saw]

and the wind whispers, Mary

[Terri]

not so fleeting, you had time in the stuffed chair for a bunch of good lines. i wish, i wish, i wasn't such a literalist. i can still enjoy

blue flesh of the stars tossed

and

tent of shrouds, my cloak of spider webs

and of course the owls, who are not what they seem.