my dreams:
(from a few nights ago, but has been haunting me ever since..)
empty husks of bodies dried out
swinging in the breezes
hanging from the flagpoles of surburban houses
-they never leave the house anymore-
window and doors shut tight, blinds pulled down..
they keep the house locked up tight against
the beady eyes and bad breath of prying neighbours-
but their secrets are swaying in the breeze,
the death-smell carried down the block-
what could be worse? what more could they be hiding inside?
except for the three mummified carcasses hanging over the carport,
casting dark shadows on the lawn-
everything looks perfectly normal.
(from last night)
i am reading a book that comes to life
about the fantastic victorian cordials
that the men and ladies of the era indulged upon-
exotic ingredients and flowery names like perfumes-
these concoctions had possibly psychoactive qualities-
demoiselles who sipped a few too many
would swoon delirious on fainting couches,
and had to be taken home by their swains in traps and carriages..
some were named after far-flung eastern oases,
and made with extract of tiger-lilies and cinnamon..
some were blood red valentine’s cordial
made with attar of roses and sparrow’s blood..
my favorite was fleur des fees, or was it fee de fleur?
(forgive me, i cannot be diacritical on this machine..)
i cannot rightly recall,
but it was dark, dark heliotrope liqueur,
with a strong aroma of creme de violettes and fig,
of cacao and bitter nightshade-bark and vanille..
it made the garden suddenly get darker and
all manner of glimmering fairies swirl in swarms
out of the crowns of our heads..