Tower in the bed

of sand, the unlit beacon --


of a happy time.

A black castle perched at a great height
Just barely out of the reach of me
The tower no different than any other night
So dark that it’s quite natural not to see
Yet my eyes are keen to this sort of sight
Secrets spill into my head rather lazily
But sit stagnant and take no form, no flight
So I carry myself quite lackadaisically
On this night it seemed the absence of light
Had reached levels of terribly high
But open your eyes, you could and you might
See Tour Noire, black tower in the sky

It all started with a walk through a graveyard.
We came to sprinkle glitter,
we came to ring the claw bells,
we came to read the eroded epitaphs on 200 year old tombstones.
Instead we found a “working” aimed at killing someone.
A black bird without a head.
Lopped clean off.
Some kind of voodoo.
Consecrated with a dark blessing by a tombstone.
Naturally we took the bird home.
Laid it out back in the freeze.
It was a “working” aimed at killing someone.
A santera over on east King street informed us of the details.
Told us to burn it and take a sweet bath.
Told us to put water next to the door to catch the demons off our shoes,
tracking in all the demons off the street.
I put water next to my bed to catch the demons in my sleep.
I wondered to myself just what exactly was going on.

A cat got to the bird before we could
but it left us the wings by the fence in the yard.
Monica stretched them open and now they are drying in the garage.
A set of wings to fan the smoke once we light the sage on fire.
I didn’t have a good feeling.
I wanted to burn the black bird.
I wanted to stop the “working”.
I wanted to leave a green pumpkin for Oshun by the waterside.
But instead I only watched it lying on the leaves
out back under a tree
from the kitchen window each time I did the dishes.
Then one morning it was gone,
but I didn’t say anything.
I thought about other things until I saw
the stretched wings in the garage,
until I pulled the Raven card from
the Oracle deck.
Black birds came to visit me.
I was advised I better start getting crafty.
I had been diligent with the water by the bed.
I purified the demons with the singing bowl every morning.
I bless my demons in the water so they don’t use
my mouth to scream
and my eyes to cry.
But the raven came to see me still.
The one without a head, and the one in the oracle deck.
And the ones that fly around the power lines outside where I walk,
cawing and cackling in a crooked ******.

Fancied myself a priest
baptized by the Holy Spirit
home of the Sacred Feminine.
Found myself screaming in hysterics like a little boy in his blanket
after he's told nothing shall be as it was.
So much for the priest hood.
So much for the New Earth.
I pulled the Tower Card.
And that,
along with the ravens
and old man Saturn…
I had never been so afraid for my body in my life.
Now we walk around town and find bird heads on the sidewalk.
Starlings, and a little wren.
I learned my demon’s name is John and that he stands behind me.
Big and wooly like a wild thing on two legs.
He doesn’t fit in a glass of water
so I brought him to the Lemon Street Cemetery
and said bon voyage.
Buried him by a gravestone tree stump and said the prayer of two deaths.
The walk home smelled like ginkgo nuts
and the dust from the crumbing of the Tower hasn’t settled yet.
Now it’s as if I've been inoculated.
I lost my sense of taste for a week and didn’t break a sweat.
I’ve pulled the rug out from under my own
two feet so many times
that if I don’t learn to levitate
my poor tailbone won’t have a chance to heal.
Home of the root
Abode of the World Serpent.
I wasn’t prepared for what was awoken within me
that day up in the promised land,
and it's been climbing my spine ever since.
Now I bless the water by my bedside every night
in case John comes back to roost.

I cover my floors with happy feet
I paint the walls with candle light
I light frankincense and tie prayers to the smoke
I watch them float to heaven
I ring a singing bowl
I put the demons in the water and I drink them.

From week in to week out,
the cracks in foundation do form,
and the ceiling begins to leak;
should those in the castle's embrace choose to evacuate?

The lovers huddle in the stillness of their room and contemplate their position,
but something crumbling so quickly needs an equally quick decision.

Dare they take a break and flee from the impending ruin?
And what does it say about them if the structure of their loving home won't support them?

And if the lovers falter
from the tower to the uneasiness below,
will there be enough arms to catch them both?

1.
A seducer snails’ past
Her Calling mission has reviled
Undoubting triumph

2．
Olympic monument
Reunification spikes
spirits of justice

3.
Her calling mission
Transmit to earnestly love
Unveiled the truth

4.
Harmonize rhythmic move
with a secular ring
She performs a wild ballet 

5.
The waves of light
Transparent erase recreation.
Wind swirled her faith

6.
An entire steel
fairies bumble, tumble, fumble 
in bloom white

7
Mysterious sketch
An angle of 17 degree
legendary explore


8.
136 meter measures
holly patient in affliction
ego human mind

9.
Fantasised loop
how sad that it’s not aware
tremble gamble dreams

10.
Clouds rumbles
He moves toward the sun 
Gold torch, birds crowd

11.
Calatrava attribute to Gaudi
The earth’s great sketch trick
eyes to hip in glories.

12.
Emotions are tides
Barcelona was heir to full
gazing at distant galaxies

I sent you a bouquet of words,
But you wanted flowers.

I promise they will outgrow any bud,
Into the tallest of towers.

winter holidays and you become snow
between glaciers and silver towers
among apes, wizards and goons
you become snow in the winter

as you turn into what you dread
as you turn into this being
a viking, werewolf, you name it
may the games begin, you may die

beneath the surface of your dreams
beneath red heavens and families
in times of hunger, you stay focussed
you become snow in the winter

as you turn into another, an: other
snow is flooding the news flash
sinners, brothers and sisters
burning sandstorms, playful twisters

elijah's path is covered with thorns
roses **** the innocent and they cry
wild roses turn into winter snow
raise your head, watchin' them grow

clocks, the same time, worldwide
remember the oaths of the old ones
remember them praying in the snow

...and turn into this being