A Lonely Desert Play Parable

Act I

Kring: A rider once storied me a tellin werthy a a tellin, even werthy a a song a the muses. A clown dressed all up - an I just about quote it like it was tole to me - a clown wus all dressed up in a gown a stained glass and it squeezed him tight like his skin, was in 'is skin e'en. And what wasn't dolled up by this kind of existence to that point, was painted on him by crazy geometries of thick greases stained in the hues of religious resonation. But all fractured an all. From up close alone he was a scare, cause such a thing just don' exist. The clockdriven clown's alwehs at a distance tho, crashin 'cross this bronzedust land, totterin, babblin, shoutin confessions an all that, an takin em back the minute later. He'll appear from behind an outcrop at times, or at the edge of a imaginary waterin hole, and he sleeps offen in the beds a abandanoed wagons and such, or just out in the cool that desert floor opens up throughout the night. But e'en before that, he useta crawl up outta caves under the desert floor, holes leadin down that're older 'an them cliff dwellins. And yes it's true he's still out there, totterin a great circle. You find a flat enough place at the wrong time in the afternoon, you can sure see 'im.

Doldrom: No such fairy tales. Rather hear tell the Pharisee in his disregard er the goliath a defeat. That ain't anything you say. What in the hell did you say?

Kring: Well.....you 'an think what you goddamn please but I'm tryin tell you something 'bout yer life there. An that rider was the one tole me a mine. Of a...a, a kind a phantom that I been seein an thas been seein me all these so many some odd years. Somethin thas out there where you been, but thas never quit it, somethin thas out there when you out there and when yer not, out in that wilderness, so y'see its alwehs the kinda thing you are when y'out there.

Doldrom: Well ain't that a godawful mess. Goddamn. What y'sayin shore seems roundabout t'me, how old was this rider, bet he was a damn crazy fool. Y'just mean t'say that poor clown boy alwehs watching, alwehs stuck out there, an I nearly was caught by 'im?

Kring: More he's thinkin 'bout you, an you of him.

Doldrom: Funny story you decide to tell me today. An he's searchin f'the ledge at the horizon. Sounds he done found it to me, an fall off too.

Kring: Yep. Lost in that the most inescapable hell of all labyrinths: the flat one.

Act II

Doldrom's Great Great Great Grandson: I can never do more than five at a time. Fuck. It gives ya a sickly kinda feeling you know?

Kring's Great Great Great Grandson: It feels like I ate a pile of musket balls.

Doldrom's: They'll Dissolve.
Kring's: A big pile a marbles. All the way up to the top of my throat. Rollin around in there, glick, glunk, click-clack. Melt. Melt melt melt melt melt.
Doldrom's: Mmmm....what was that. Oh, about the -
Kring's: (distracted) shit man the dogs were barking at the thunder last night, I had to take a pill.
Doldrom's: You have any more?
Kring's: Fuck you, it's a real thing man.
Dolrom's: Lemme tell you this fucking story my mom told me the other day.
Kring's: All right.
Doldrom's: So this is like twenty-five years ago or something, this guy's riding his bike someplace in Wyoming, some ass place a little south of Cheyenne, and the way it happens is he gets on the road and has to turn back home to get his wallet, so he goes back into the apartment, tells his wife he's leaving again and walks out the door, all told he's about ten minutes behind where he would've been. So there he's goin, through a rural interection with a green light on his side and it's just like somebody hitting a home run, this hotrod fucking car crushes this guy on his bike, struck him full speed in the sweet spot like a fucking baseball, caught him right in stride. Now see how they were on a collision course man? Isn't that fucked?
Kring's: Well yeah -
Doldrom's: And, get this, my mom was the motherfucking wife! They we're gonna buy a house and shit pretty soon, had just gotten married. Where the fuck would I be now man?
Kring's: Woah. That sucks for your dad kind of. If he only hadn't forgotten the wallet.
Doldrom's: Fuck you first of all. Plus it wouldn't matter, maybe another time he forgets the wallet and it saves his life. Fuckface. You can't ever know when that shit's gonna be important, and if you did, imagine how it'd make you feel, you wouldn't be able to do anything just about.
Kring's: Well maybe, but it gives you more of a chance jus knowin something's comin at you. I guess that could be all the time though. Damn you fucked me with that story, I'm starting to feel crazy and dead.
Doldrom's: That's not just the story.
Kring's: Well I do know that you're allowed to stop at a green light, especially on a bike.
Doldrom's: It was shitty visibility, and the car was flyin dude.
Kring's: Damn these things dissolve fast.
Doldrom's: I told you.
Kring's: (Face against the patio window) Damn the heat waves out there are really starting to move. (Turns back into room, walks around) Every time I look up or at a wall, I feel like I'm seein a cave painting or something.

Five Ages in a World

I'm across the Green River,
You can look far down below on a little forward-hovering, blue and white St. Dominic figure
Through certain clear breaks in the brown poplar forest

I'm across the Twilight River,
Away from the tower kingdoms, and frozen stations

And The Soprano Soloist Sings: Ave Ave AAA - Agape Troh Oh - Sanctoriuuum Luuumen

When I was inside the Great City I watched a trackless white trail blow flat from a wide clementine pyramid
In front of a firetruck blue sky - a pristine expanse chipped by a crystal fingernail the size of a sphinx
Then the pyramid withdrew slowly behind and between the stone steel buildings
Suddenly to the South, and to the left a little, grew a sheer wall of asphyxiation,
Blood green palm leaves soaking in fogsweat
And there appeared in faded textures
Tropical Stonehenge, Gregorian Swamp Streams in the basement of a triple canopy, the arch of a tomb drowned in the vastness of the cliffside, carvings of earrings and temples, totems of all things

And The Baritone Choir Sings: Oxyrhynchus Hymnus Tertillian - Tridentine Ritti - Neume Veylluum

I stayed in the Hinterland City for more than a decade,
Even as I first arrived I could tell it was the gateway to the borders by the look of the rain running off the steel sheet rooftops in the waterfront market.
Just over the hills, another wide open country burning in a fury of the sun, dreams of mudfire and missionary walls, warfare, men against titans, Chaos and The Loud Thunderer.
I had not gone a mile when I turned around and saw that behind me lay nothing but a field of hard navyblack coral pockmarked by mounds of burnished sulfurgold and stretching to the horizon.
Sometimes I would be trampling along and feel the great release of the relief of a dead man
There would be nothing but the rushing forms of the Dead Hours, and an endless luminescent melon patch.

And The Three Tenor Choirs Sing: O-O-O-O - Muuuundi Domihna - Vehherbum Ecce Kier A

There at the heavy-hung enshadowed clearing, on a mudpad final resting place,
I heard and saw with naked eyes a great hippopotamus snort and suck for deeper and deeper thrashes of vanishing air
I felt I was part of everything I saw.
On still again I went, leaving another marker behind
And on again went the scenery, deeper and deeper into the last layer of reverence in the last layer of darkness and fear

And The Thirty-Three Alto Choirs Sing: Vuh Vuhnuh Bonampak - Vuh Vuhnuh Bonampak - Vuh Vuhnuh Bonampak

The last curve in the sandy palm-walled jungle trench poured out a delta of lime-orange shoreline tidepools that streaked on to every horizon
They each harbored a long well of jagged lightning that zapped across the surface in erratic intervals,
Ten waves out, a fresh plaque inscribed with a dedication to Chapman's Homer rests firmly set into the jutting hedge of the reef
Suddenly four simultaneous sails appeared:
A black triangle in the East
A yellow triangle in the West
A blue triangle in the South
A white triangle in the North
The cobalt coral began to glare and gleam in a frenzy that struck up a shrill clamor
And a string of spidersilk spun the bent path of a dainty little meteorite, in three day-long stages, and at the end a smoldering pebble lay embedded in the words of the plaque on the reef
The East sail had grown the size of a monstrous cloud

And The Sixty-Six Bass Choirs Sing: Maudgalyayanna - Djamas - Deoarien - Deoarien - Deoarien

The South Star has covered up the North
The constellations are disentangled

I am launched, faster than is possible,
Through a focused line inside a beacon.

The Black Ocean bears my sleeping island

And The Seven-Hundred And Seventy-Seven Soprano Choirs Sing: Oxyrhynchus Hymnus Tertillian - Tridentine Ritti - Neume Veylluum

Down Here Upside Down

Up in the skies today, channels grow deep and countrysides with wheat too,
Coal-splattered bare tree bones, golden-shocked corn stalk shells
dotted with knolls, wells and a cold front,
Little coves and bays, intricate peninsulas deep in a cave of water, a water cave,
Continental drifts pulling strings of hotglass islands apart,
Gargoyle pyramid mass mounds enshrining carved faces of oracles and kings,
Fields of inland seas, rolling oyster patch, corroded granite citadels unveiled slowly
until they too become a curtain,
A hundred geysers in every far-off corner spouting pure tornadoes of foam,
the yawning suction of a haunted empty banquet hall next to the neon parties constantly,
a red desert dust storm, the towering volcano of the cyclone sun, the wet pearl of a Mayflower Algonquin forest, a lasting impression, a mural made real, an idea about tractor beams,
Some unnamed religion sweetthroating it out everywhich side, storybook Noah doves,
a white matter rock split open and gaping, on open book, a cherished____________,

Twelve-Travel Exchange Streets

I was almost robbed by a doorman,
another cool September evening coming down,
I was held up by somebody's passenger on the main line
to my nurse's house
Then they had me all blocked up to get around Mr. Phillip's Dynamite
Then I forgot about the tracing paper festival on the avenue

I never could get past the looks of those people off the edge,
Here come the First Aid helicopters from the parachute sector,

Mr. Somebody had Nobody peeking in at the dirty numbers on the sneaker products,
and of course, the lady had to be helped
she and her best friend were all right
but there was still a nose full of lead and the crazed suspector, in the background, turning about

Well they laid down some flack on the ramp to the bridge
A sweetheart fairy set fire all along the guardrails,
Well it got to twilight time, around the places of the faded Regal Offices,
Watching from the middle, I got held up again
At outside the Coffee Shop Church, The Terrestrial Market, The Business Gift Shop,
The Fine Furnishing Hole, and the Antique Tradestore, with its humble little signpost

Things Are Disappearing All Around

Love and Revenge have brought desolate lessons, it seemed every life that ever was fell apart under its own makeshift boredom. Monsoon of nothing down down and down an exasperated hill of sloped mud bodies clawing at the skin seat at the sinking quicksand top, child-fraught with anger, fear, chaotic among the suggested organizations, unable to hold on to the purpose or shell-shedding philosophy of a prayer or a season. Empires and Natural Disasters raising raging hell into the skies, the processions of funerals, black spike outhouses, the stages of the violent weddings take hold, every minute every extra day a judgment for those still living and no other. Bodies draped across the wires of disease-ridden communication, folded into the smoke alley, frozen for good between the grime and prison brick and lines of moss that cover it up. The drunk traveler - true as the molten bending river stars - dressing with purpose amid white noise and diesel, grinding grating rumble and horn, shotbled to blind and served up to Executioner Truth, that madman at the shrieking lava organ

Statement

This Blog Is A Free-For-All