four arms, two legs
supporting one head, with three eyes
wearing five serpents as ornaments
slithering around us
hissing their wisdom into our ears
as we rested atop the skin
of a tiger, desire

I could see him, in us
extending out his six limbs
two on the ground
two on her
and two on I
and we were within one mind
six, six, six
one mind, with three eyes
the third, sought to destroy
Kama, desire

to right her body
into the form which she deserved
as ashes
of which we wore on our skin

she spoke of the hunting
of skinwalkers
extending out so gracefully
towards me

we were within one mind
with three eyes
and a crescent moon
lain upon our forehead
eternal in the midst of Chaos
in the midst of evolution

destruction,
for the cause of transformation

my claws extended out
as light is pulled
by a black hole
of which was her
and my lips loosened
exposing my sharp teeth

and we worshiped one another
in our destruction
becoming exposed
and feral

so I let out a yell
in the middle of the street
in front of a mother
and her children

as we were covered
in the ashes of Kama
the end
of all material existence

rest our garlands of skulls
over our necks
bowed
and said goodbye

now Shakti swims in my blood
and dances with my Soul

for I am still in
that black hole

headed out, in
to the other side

truly, Chaotically
enjoying the ride

dynamism in in me
as I live, Truly

talk can grow some legs
it starts to walk around
it starts hatching rotten eggs
and babies lay on the ground

then they stand up
they start eating each other
they can't find baby daddy
so they all eat their mother

before they starve to death
some walkers start to see
they are riding daddy's back
they could eat all day for free

words came up from Satan's home
slithering fires, hissing in my ears
pulling on my thoughts
as if she found the instrument in me
the strings, of a baritone cello
played in a deep and dark room

six, six, six
we worshiped one another
like demons playing with fire

her thoughts
extended out
from all dimensions

my claws extended out
my sharp teeth exposed behind my loose lip
as she spoke
of skinwalkers
and we laughed
about anyone ever caring too much

we can change
oh, we can change

oh, we can howl
and they run when we growl

we can change
oh, we can change

and they shudder
as if they could shake
themselves loose
from existence
and we laugh
dripping lava from our mouths


my apologies
alcohol spirits

they make me

want to dance

they make me
feel free

so,
don't you know

I let the spirits
of Chaos flow

it was my way

of saying, Hello

I grew up along a gravel road
in a refitted freight house once owned by a slate mining outfit
my backyard was a rolling sprawl of giant scrap-heaps made
of spent
or unusable slate
some slabs were as big as a tool shed;
mossy promontories jabbing and jutting like dull honey- badger quills
poking out of the hills
as they sprawled in their
heaps and their heaves
and their gullies.
it was a regular shangri la for a couple young boys born in the early to mid 80s
our own private wilderness;
adolescent paradise.
sometimes I would look up from my backyard to
the tops of those slate hills and
I would see my friend Joe.
he  was older than i was and I looked up to him and
I craned my neck
looking up to him then
standing at the summit of a slate hill,
hands on his hips
perched and
hiding behind his silhouette-
the Northampton County Sun setting on behind him
blood orange scarlet and
purple gray blue were the colors of those feelings back then.
time ticked on
the way time does.
my parents got a divorce and I moved across town
there were no slate hills in that backyard
and the slate company chain linked all the hills that remained
and so there stood
a fence between me
and the wonderland I once knew.
Joe died unexpectedly some years later in  
some obscure forest of
one of the Virginias
together we nurtured some regrets suspended in between our
childhood and those
terminal woods.
together we held some memories like beads strung along a strand of silk
translucent pearls like drops of dew
condensing
out there somewhere on the
eternal web of the akasha
unknown to even Indra
unknown to all but us.
couldn’t hold on any longer
had to let it go.  

my brother gave me a pencil cactus
it seemed to flourish in my care
I had been neglecting my own needs for years
not sure I knew what my needs even were
but that cactus needed water and light
and this much i knew
and this much i provided.
it turned a red color down near the bottom of the stalk -
looked it up on google;
some kind of pencil cactus rite of passage.
after the reddening
it becomes then the stick of fire.
we were kicking up dust
over all the trails
fading on behind us
we acted like it was eyes forward only…
towns I used to know, sinking without blinking
absorbed in the horizon on behind me.
I acted like I couldn’t take my eyes off the rear view.
we pulled up and parked on
another
orange
lane
me and my stick of fire.
we landed in a
townhouse -
plenty of legroom
even had central air.
I put the cactus under a window
on the second story
didn’t think about the air vent on the floor
blowin all that dry air
and my stick of fire
withered and wrinkled up
and it shrank and shriveled
I couldn’t bring it back
and i tried
but i
had to let it go.

a giant scooped me in his hands
he was massive
40 feet tall
the war horns blew in the distance when he walked.
he
cocked back his hand and tossed me
through the air
on over the horizon
i was surfing the high skies
on thermals and the slip
streams of vultures
and peregrine falcons-
all of us then dive bombing
all the skinwalkers
like a 2 dimensional love spiral made of
peaks and valleys
and deep trenches swimming in the waters of the
mystic arts….
I held the sun in my hand for exactly one moment
but i blinked and turned
back into a clanging cymbal
a vessel of divine prophecy
going on babbling in tongues.
now a raptor eats my liver every day at noon.
I heard the sun rising in my hands for only just a moment
it was warm and held me in a present bulb of space
I breathed it in
and held it
before I had to let it go.

the architecture of
the Wyoming Valley downtowns
are like frozen songs
crumbling into puddles in a *** hole.
the steam engines and the breakers
are empty skeletons
and dry leaves.
weasels and other vermin making homes inside of holes
the soul was laid off in the vacancy
conflagrations once able to burn down entire cities
at the top of golden arche, and
now the place smells like the smothered ashes of a
single
dwindling
ember .
I yearn for a smooth good-bye
you go ahead and talk and then i’ll go-
yet i ****** up another one
open throats and
another
wire barb in the
neocortex…
I had high hopes
but I had to let it go.

I had high expectations of an early grave
“here lies such and such”
stiff in the long stillness like a possum caught inside a headlight
what a relief that would of been in the brimstone of my twenties
but the roosters kept on crowing
the morning sun kept rising
shining
death away
the big sleep was a false hope
had to let it go.

By Jordan Gee

All the things I've survived
Demons, beasts, fiends
Skinwalkers whom I complied
Get on with friends

Get on with anyone, anything
Diseased minds tell me lies
Listen as time is festering
Eating away their lives

They claim godhood expect worship
I stand in mock appreciation
They see my smile and see worship
A smirk hiding condemnation

I laugh and smile commiserate with a devil
They think it's with them but it's at them
Slowly they realize I'm not on their level
When for help to me they come

I turn them to their sins and crimes
As I refuse them even the smallest crumbs
I've seen better men beg for dimes
So I lack pity I will not be a crutch

I'm dyin inside listening to dead outside
Husks without things clutching dreams
Always in me do they choose to confide
Noone else will listen noone cares

Even they don't care for what they say
Still they talk and talk trying to be okay
No one will sway to the sound they make
Still I listen just in case that's all it'll take

Hope they shed their horns and fangs
Become men once more through the pain
Can't do more or risk losing skin of mine
So I listen while they fester with the time