(Or, “It’s not that far, and you might not get hurt”)
Madame Muse has locked her legs around me …
A million red bricks like laughter’s wall lies,
And windows like smiles lie,
Blinking in falling sanity’s cast,
And leaving shadows in echoing canyons …
(the bird launches itself from the crystal)
Down below, one’s who think not above,
Nor see he in black who trails behind …
(This is real, not imagination)
And perched where the bird once sat,
The poet absorbs clarity and ?
For indrawn, the crystal affects not introspection,
And high above comes warmth to Muse,
Shattering light upon the threadbare shield,
Wondering about the casting …
The humming of slowness tapping out endlessly,
The throbbing and rubbing on hardened earth,
Of the golden-hued ones who give all life,
Comes now one behind me …
Rising above into the caves of vacancy,
Now the halo around heat and penetrates,
Known not to the night …
The red orgasm stops,
And sees the omniscient eye …
(Never satisfied, Muse’s legs part …)
“Madame Muse” was a woman from Flagstaff, AZ, on FidoNet in the late 80s. I wrote this at Ft. Gordon, having just split my forehead open on the edge of a table. Yes, alcohol was involved.
