Beggar For Blue

Game

Click Here to get this from FreeFlashToys.com!

Click Here to get this from FreeFlashToys.com!

The Pineal Gland

"In the physical body the eye views objects upside down. It sends the image of what it observes to the brain which interprets the image and makes it appear right side-up to us.

But the human body has another physical eye whose function has long been recognized by humanity. It is called the 'Third Eye' which in reality is the Pineal Gland. It is long thought to have mystical powers. Many consider it the Spiritual Third Eye, our Inner Vision."

My 2 takes:

The Other Room

The mirror reflects the other room's door:
it shuts out a land of polychromatic
paper horses  galloping like mad
Valkyries.

The other room is a land of holes dripping
ice tears into a purple river and planes
flying through the  ceiling. Savage songs tear
mouths.

In the mirror autumn merges
with desperate shapes squeezing out
the keyhole. All the small dead wear
quicksilver.

I rush out:  the sun swallows me
as if I was the culprit.

music

<EMBED src="http://www.freewebs.com/hongpeow/folder1/torredor.mid" AUTOSTART=FALSE>

Small How red the tip of her tongue licking salt from his palm --hot shot, he gives her some tequila, she dances. Baila, baila, Latina. Dance, twist my world around the world carved in you. How changeable his pupils, how, how they shrink and dilate,shrink and dilate, degrees of blueness and black. She pulls down the sky, pirouettes in the tickling rain of fingers. Baila, baila, Latina. Dance through this bed's ruby istants. How white his throat, the scream -- nails to nape toes twitching-- two hills of salt. How small her reflection in the ice.

Back.

The Journey

The eye opens, the apprehension of the lid
That rises deciding what proportion, what
Angle of light to engrave in the pupil:

........ Last night the world flipped
........ A tattered skirt and the wind brought the smell
........ Of rotten thighs and wet sand.

The eye blinks, follows spiralling paths
That spread words without regret, without meaning.
It captures frames:

........ This morning the grass exhales brown
........ History of stones, cages of bones drilled
........ By wasps’ knify thinness, reptiles’ catacombs.

The eye rests on a dinosaur’s skeleton whose proportions
Blur the horizon, whose tail whips the sun.

Dry Season

There was a great heat that year.
They made tents out of the nation's
worn out mantle, fixed their gaze
at fissures. The heat cracked
the asphalt, burned the blue, filled
the air and lungs, stuck the tent to
their ripped skin that flapped
like a flag.

When the rain came, it was no relief:
large drops splashed on the ground
and dried exhaling dust.

There Is No Blue

Lazarus

And you brought me back here.

In this shelter roofed with fanned embers where the sand
grinds my temples, I am thirsty: there is no mouth
against mine. Through stone-yawns that deform

houses, I hear people rush, I see skin rags. Multi-tipped
tongues calling your name lick the dead's saliva,
the purulent backs of their non-nations.

And you brought me back here
where children suck from the dying's wounds,
where women swallow hearts' dark meat before sinking
in your belly.

Next to me, an old man snores.
I count his raucous breaths: each one cracks
and shucks a comet's skin.