Black (day 2324)

I want a house designed all in black
I want to cover any colors, exposed
With ash, stain, darkness,
Shou Sugi Ban
– A blackness that cannot be rubbed off –
I will tint the windows
And dim the lights,
Burning only black candles.
Nothing new will enter this house
Nothing fresh or alive
Nothing that will shed light
On the depth of this hallow
Forever written in black ink
Upon black dyed paper.
I will eat only black beans
That will sit upon a black plate
Of black rice beside black olives,
Occasionally a loaf of pumpernickel
Will be permitted within.
I will wash with black soap
In a tub of black pearl
Dried by a black towel,
And my sheets of black cotton
Will rest quietly below
My duvet of black duck feathers
For my black soul
To sleep, evermore.

Stained Messenger (day 1856)

I’m beginning to like the taste of ink on my skin
Bleeding in black
And letters wrinkled symmetrically
With stamps that now stick
To the wings of an unnamed messenger
I have envisioned as Hermes
In a short and stubby auto
With running shoes and arch supports,
And a stripped button up
With wings emblazoned upon the breast-pocket.

Written Down the Back of my Neck (day 934)

Lines have been written down the back of my neck
Ancient scrolls, unintelligible
In a language spoken when men and women
Lived together in deep respect and love

My throat has begun to burn
The ink has started to bleed
Where once was smooth innocence
Crawling with anticipation of the turning times

Return to a fantasia built upon sorcery
Filled with myth so blood-soaked and deep
Memories flood the virgin landscape
And the Oracle speaks once again