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Offering from the Disappeared
Author: pilot g tyrus
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Offering from the Disappeared
a word:
stupid.
curled up on
the softened floor
a curve asleep
in cyan light
gave off stifled
airless breaths
discerned my sleep
as sadness
(that simple word
man's first virus
infected me)
your breath carried
storms of laughter
lightning tongues
for the bullseye that walked
danced for you
clasped my hands
in a bowl for protection
in a warding symbol
(the cup doth overflowed)
spilled at my feet where
I was rooted
sent me afloat
aghast
still
I danced
until the words
"Doing it for you"
(enter image of
copper head Medusa
spin at simple
blood gushed commands)
there I fell
dug my toes in
dug my skin out
wept
wept
bloomed
am the tree
that bears ashen fruit
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St. Mary's Master
Author: pilot g tyrus
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St. Mary's Master
The iron bell fades
in sure, rust tones
terminal voice
of St. Mary's master
calls through hills
shakes inflammable
sandstone walls
spires press against
the blue virgin veil
of the sky.
You are hidden
in a central niche
arms outstretched in
quiet repose
face still, weary
forever weeper's mask
you - the mourning goddess
high queen of celestial grief
your body stands tired
in layers of plaster
recall reverence
through an iron bell
St. Mary's master
lays on his back
asleep forever
from the Father's work.
At last this is your relief
your painted layers
peel away
color fades to
tones of wind
carried through an echoed sky
stretch your arms
towards waves of grasses
face down
in black earth
away from the call
of resurrection's bell.
St. Mary's master sleeps.
Now O queen of Heaven's tears
become the queen
of silence.
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The Dreams the Mud Brings
Author: pilot g tyrus
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The Dreams the Mud Brings
After the rains had passed on
the jungle bowed its head down low.
The sky was the color
of nails in the coffin.
Birds now unleashed
threw dew from their wings
catapulted bright bodies
towards the lid of the sky
(Shining flowers were they
the jewels of the cemetery
set among grass that had
ceased to be green)
I watched the river flow in
swollen reverie
(Catuaba, Jatoba, Maracuja, Suma
all of them taking a taste of her skirts
flowing and frothing
in the deluge waltz)
It made the procession with mud
as the pyre. In breathless sleep I
watched you dream there
in the broken bowl
of your body.
You had rested so long that your skin
was a garden
where mildew grew and
pale moulds sprouted.
Your hair became the hideaway
where scarabs nested and
languished the days.
Their backs of gold, sapphire and jade
shined as your diadem ever-moving
And the flies white and winged
from your lips were resurrected
sleeping maggots where your mouth
had been their tranquil cradle
your tongue had turned black but
you whispered to me.
I saw you rise
like the river's waters the
diadem beetles fell from your hair
your body had patterns of mouldering maps
tracing the paths to
Death's favorite colors
you seemed white above
those funeral hues
(White as the foam on the sea of ghosts
white as the dress one is married and mourns in
the bones one is left with when flesh melts away)
I can't remember what you said
but the words sting my tongue
whenever there's thunder
swell in my throat
when I breathe in the fog
(My Gretchen I would turn this
jungle to lavender
kill every last creature
to hear you again)
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