For Brian Springer
1. Fire - Before The Queen’s Fete
movie set sunshine sweats me worse than
that august noon I rode into the desert.
acrobatic medulla oblongata thrust
every urgent elemental rhythm to
cant my temporary flesh
to the scorpions and dung beetles.
even the snakes smell my life
and keep their venom to themselves.
on top of a dune, I watched wind waves
mirage the sand into an evaporating river
of angels abandoning their rippled lives
for a promise. soon I will be
glass. see. the first test ~
stay. surround my deep limbic system
like a shell fortifies the quivering fragile
yolk; coax my mule muscles to run; take off
my jeweled sandals; throw basil on the floor to free
the shrieking spectres ripping the draperies
on my memory. the script
is not a dog chasing its tail. every time
the tale is thrown, it fetches with
simple enthusiasm. adds slobber
or teeth marks. renews. the heart
will be shot in five. I must swallow
this version. smile. when boiled,
this hyperborean black ink
reduces to blood. I am told
freshen up for dinner; that animated
mannequin is the queen; I am
her every loving son and champion.
lies. gritty and shimmering,
every desert secrets the true
heart. remember childish games.
after hide always comes seek.