Sunday, January 02, 2011

∞.3a Cajones' Dream

(As Transposed by Pisces Iscariot ~ Unofficial Poet Laureate of Unwonderland)
Cutting across the field behind the houses, your scent sets the neighbourhood dogs to barking. Your moon-shadow casts black and silent on the eruptions of grass between discarded objects that smell of the people asleep in the houses, while the silver disk herself causes the fur on your spine to ripple like the restless birds in their night-time nests. And the scars on your face will remind you of her unprotected beauty, her own scars document her continuing conflict. And the light from her face is sucked in through the black holes of your night eyes like a wind carrying the scent of the night’s secrets; there to be devoured by your memories.
Through the noisy door flaps and ragged-tooth gaps in the faltering fences, to food left for forage and the fever of foreign smells, your night is unbound by the constraints of these creatures so large and so untrustworthy and yet so willing to give.





8 comments:

Tom said...

all caught up...
btw, i second the motion

Arkava said...

"And the scars on your face will remind you of her unprotected beauty, her own scars document her continuing conflict"- stellar stuff pisces iscariot!

-arka

Harlequin said...

.... the fur on the spine ripples like restless birds....
what a perfect image; wow.
a great dream from the official laureate of unwonderland!

Pisces Iscariot said...

Tom: caught up or entangled? :) You second which motion?

Arka: thanks for the visit and the compliment :D

Harlequin: unofficial ;]

Tom said...

let's make it 'official poet laureate' of unwonderland

Pisces Iscariot said...

Tom: I'm not sure the PTB would approve such a controversial decision.

JeffScape said...

Not that this has anything to do with the story, but my cats are currently in a turf war with the local squirrels.

I shit you not.

Pisces Iscariot said...

Jeff: cats've got no chance - squirrels' hearts bead at 7 000 000 bpm, reflexes faster than cats.