image from fineartamerica.com
“The crowd is the veil through which the unfamiliar city beckons
to the flaneur as phantasmagoria--now a landscape, now a room.”
Our newest toilet
is a Toto, but hey,
I’m not so disenchanted with Kansas
that I might flush myself down it
to finally find
the red poppy fields,
the coven of white witches,
the sinister flying monkeys,
or singing lollipop dwarfs.
One of my closets is indeed a wardrobe,
because the builder did not fully appreciate
or comprehend sartorial decorum, just an oaken
stand alone with carved wooden doors, but I swear
on one fevered night the Indian did step out of it,
with a lion on a red leash, & two eagle feathers
in his teeth. I couldn’t exactly tell what tribe
he was from because the moonlight was
shadowed in dim gauze.
There are actual islands in the stream
of Puget Sound, & when but a callow
youth I would sit on shore & stare at them,
finally selecting the smallest one for myself,
that I would purchase after becoming a famous
actor & writer. I planned to live on it full time,
in sight of the city, but snug in my own fiefdom.
I would erect a twenty-story tower above the
mansion to use as my writer’s nest--with a
360 degree view & stone parapets. But alas
today it is used by Native Americans for a
tourist salmon-bake stop.
I live in a miraculous house in a quiet
suburb that is supercharged with psychic energy,
riddled with sweet dimensional portals, complete with
ghostly interlopers & walk-throughs, convenient access to
amorous kundalini dragons, vast medieval landscapes covered
with orange castles flying yellow & golden banners, with more than
enough space to accommodate my collection of 30,000 movies, a boundless
imagination, daring dreams,
several computers, three wide-
screen televisions & seven
I have never actually climbed Mt. Rainier, but I have spend a decade
circumnavigating it, photographing it, & worshipping its majesty. In my
zoom lens, several times, I have detected fuzzy flocks of huge white
wings--snowbird angels that frolic over the glaciers perhaps? They must
be quite the sight to behold close-up. There are local mountaineer legends
about bizarre encounters with such creatures, who like Sasquatch, have
a dark side as well.
transports us beyond what isreal--to fantasy.
Posted over at dVerse Poets "Poetics"