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The Amorous Permutations of the Conjurers

You remember only the projection of her visitation, yet the sense of her gathering storm brightens the earthly milkweed pods of an intimate ravishing, bursting and scattering sirens outwards in a wheel of lightning strikes, signaling the reverse of impending precautions. The archive of owls captures every nuance of biological emanations in the secretive fables of each peculiar shuddering of bricks and mortar, pistil and stamen, and those oddly colored Dutch flasks that appear like lighthouses howling in the wings.

 

Out of your elegant debris you make a descending reflection, then an upward spinning shadow and then a dream-covered glance, to which again is added your reflection emerging out of the forest around it, and you have the entrance to the other side of the landscape, where the vision grinders come in the late afternoon to lose their proportions. Thus, the secret is revealed, and the pieces of the puzzle are set to unwind the babbling of the apes in the glimmer of enchantment...

In the Great Hall of Tinkering the last of the chemists and astronomers pillage the gap between consciousness and dark matter, between the hardness of coal, and the myth of another’s infernal perception in the jeweler’s vise of inspired tinctures; between the kiss and the hunger for kisses that distill and corrupt even the Black Plague.

 

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