Dragging Left Wing | Chapter I (day 922)

I

[and from here I crawled out into hands of memories, settling my mind on the truth machine that worked, grinding and sharing my thoughts with light I didn’t want to see]

I was callused from pains palm, a short smile that curtseyed like a smart little girl auditioning for the lead in this years high school musical. But my fever wasn’t juvenile. My fever had the whiskers of a great old wool-cardigan-wearing bespectacled grey-haired rocking-chair blues man. Stretching in the dark rays of a smoke filled saloon.

[I always wonder what happened in those old saloons as dusty rovers would sit amongst dirty city folk with nothing but sincere silence to fold the spaces between then and now]

Tonight bid me no exception. My hands were cold and the condensation stared at me through grace’s old left shoe; the mark of a vain attempt to pluralize a bygone romantic history with dots dotting and buzzards and cowboys shouting yippy-yi-kai-yai. Yippy-mother-fucking-kai-yai. It echoed through my mind and around the rim and stirred the bricks soaking in the toxic tumbler tonic.

II

Footsteps echoed on my heart’s inner recesses [those dark spaces with lifelines directly connecting my dick to my brain], and I looked up to see what stretched before my eyes towards the skies and held my breath as I began to accept the steps I did not control, nor did I expect to know for I was but a stranger.

[what life that I did live, galloping here and there in search of reason and mystery and a place to eat my dinner with warm socks and a soft hearted woman wearing a checkered apron, and kids filling up the silent spaces that ran around the walls and raw vegetables]

[did I behold the majesty that I had so long sought?]

Flush faced and affectionately asking if she could be the one to dangle my sorrows in front of the dogs chops, to mince that meat so delicately a surgeons needle would hardly Frankenstein this wanton heart of mine. Who was I to let this poor damosel tarry there like a bird on a wire? Hardly a minute the mood I wade in expresses such distaste, so I stood to my full height, smiled my deepest smile [yet did I know the deepest sorrow spoken from mine eyes], and bid the dark haired blood-hound to sit with me a while.

III

Here I was, a confident chap, merely seeking deep within – wallowing if you will – to no particular evil that could readily dance upon my tainted tongue. But such a foe that it could be was easily scared away, for in it’s terror – which it could see – was all that met the mind. But not, just see! Oh lordy me! It was more than my racing heart could ever manage to conjure. With those deep eyes, so wild and high, so eager for the punchline. Where my first glance had hastily missed, my senses soon repaired, it was aroma – so sincere – it took me by surprise; I was just some sullen eyes, awaiting times dear romantic fate.

[what focused on my brain just then was recounted by all men; so vivid was this memory it nearly knocked me back, for I was not some phony fiend, some mocking jack disgrace. I held with me a rabbits foot, a good luck charm to pace my heart and keep it here in check, to keep my mind from going aloof awaiting this as future]

Could you feel me as I felt you, could you smell me as I smelled your soul come wafting to my heart? Did you accept, nay, did you propose this gravity as much as I had willed it so? Did your soul reach out and mingle now with my strings reaching towards your being sitting there eloquently?

[and with this I lost the senses of my reason and logic. I lost my ability to recount my tales, and verbs I sling so well. I lost my thoughts that had carried me to this smoke filled saloon]

[note: to read full epic follow dragging left wing]

Forward [a Smile] (day 920)

I didn’t think I heard you right
Calling my name like a love bird
“Coo. Coo.”
My baited ear; bent.

But your eye, raised brow
Intrigued my senses,
Tingled my nerves, and
Shook my tailored cuff
Into a slow waltz,
A casual saunter.

Dimmed lights
And a smile that pulled
[Gravitational laws of attraction]
Which spit out the cork
And drank straight from the bottle

A blood red moon burned that night
As lovers made their way
Past steaming alleys.
Sleeping sidewalks glistening
In moonlit silence.
Clip-clop street talk with
Romance in a new nights air.

Forward to waking eyes,
Resting pants [still belted]
Carelessly draped over
A wooden powder-blue picket chair,
So tenderly close to that
Matching vanity with a mirror

Murmurs rustling through the sheets
[Down filled comforter]
And a familiar close to home
Written between
Those smiling lips,
But crying a hidden tear.
A soft memory.

Tall and Proud (day 917)

And into the hills I plunge my sword;
A ghastly and devilish sharpened thing
To ward off the demons of ghoulish sorts
That steal the plains of peaceful dusk
And mock the winds like cackling hens

Where do you want my heroes badge?
Shall it grace my green lapel upon
My suit of honor, ragged and dry?
I came here with a confident grin,
Now leaving I shall gaily step

For with my savagery, my valor, I’ve done
What no man here had done before;
Rid these lands from evil plague
That held your heads towards the sky
In search of reasons, and a warning sign

Though, while my road may long become
Legends of I grow tall and proud
A hero here, a myth there,
A legend told by fire lit, aye
Maturing ears of eager years

So if you come against the rush,
Some words of our heroes tests.
Will you encourage the legend on?
Trace it’s depths to the devils grasp,
Then onward ho! Triumph.

Sharing Midnight (day 915)

Like it already has
I am on my ride
Through world by night
Where I glide, glide, glide

Spinning and whirring
And fabrics of gravity
Dancing, her fingers
Delicate to my touch

Sweet sips of laughter
Delightfully close
Who art thou?
Nay, why art thou not nearer

To the street
Brightly aglow
Feelings of danger
Renewed sense of triumph

Can you not hold me?
Ah-hah! There’s passion!
There is the fire,
Trust thrust from within

And by the midnight hour
Sweet sounds through darkness
Ecstatic dance, dance, dance
My fingers hold bliss

To my greedy eyes
Linked with your greedy urges
To your greedy eyes
Pulled by my greedy love

To a galactical quadrant
An octahedral ecstasy
Linking of energies
Indulged in pure essence; avail to no end

Well Worn Booths (day 901)

I was at the market
Surfing along well worn booths
Passing by idle buskers
Thumbing old good luck charms
Worn away

Here I smelled service
The toils of seven generations
Sweating in the fields
Sending wives to sell
Gnarled stone washed fingers

It is romantic
Startling romance amongst
Brutal ages
Suffering humbly
Expressive humility

And at night
Late at night when
Stray dogs find moving shadows
I wonder who
Sleeps more peaceful

Riga - 201209 (596 of 605)

Dispelled Legions (day 900)

Legions of piping bands
Tunics bedazzled with
Ten foot peacock feathers
Rubies hemmed with gold
Chin straps and rosy lips
While out of breath
Gasping for breath

Left right left
Left right left
To the tune of ancient mariners
Ramshackled by a recent gale
Lonely and bygone
But strapped with infinite hope

Discovering smiles
On passing children
Who stop and stare
Slack jawed and dreaming
Holding mother’s pant leg close

And the song chirps loudly
As all of us dream
Focused determination spreads
About each members mane
They walk the fine line
Between 7th and Fraser
15th and Vine

On past these streets
In a cold autumn breeze
Biting into saturated spectators
With empty bottles of hot chocolate
Rattling along with cold children
And dispelled souvenirs

Shallow (day 899)

New age heroes backtracking my history
Plunging my knowledge into depths shallow
An abysmal abomination bleeding
Without attention – slowly growing more pale
Shuddering at steps of continual growth
Spiritual connection

Wolf pack howls at the onslaught of night
Quickly scattering the mice and easy game
As midnight blue enters souls of all living
Masking horror forgotten – unexposed
To hungry prowlers let out loose
Given to animality

Contour edges of my heart like madness
Incorporate symbols of vengeance and betrayal
Of once and then lost
Of loose soil – six feet shallow
And layer my justice like skyscraping urbanalities
Because I have no right, no ritual

Scraping Elegance (day 897)

Wouldn’t it be worth it
To fly amongst wizards
Scraping elegance
From nearby apple trees
Pressing gladly
Into mirrors of deceit

Running callused fingers
Along loosened hairs
Billowing forgiveness
Between eyes of smoke

Escaping lethargy
That grows stronger
In children of love
Screaming without fear
Naked little babies
Blinded by ignorance
Inbred

There – and lost with madness
Like laughter fading
Into darkest night

Wouldn’t it?