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March 22, 2014

CAULDRON, SMOLDERING


A seer sees 
a series of seas 
he's seen since he seated him 
self at the seeing table to season 
seared seaweed ceaselessly since he 
insisted his sister said certain significant 
systems seemed sinister to her. After asking her 
Alice automatically answered at an astronomically 
advanced abstraction an affecting aesthetic he'd never 
even heard about before. Really he said

Yes you yammer and yap and yawn all the time while I 
warn you we're wasting away here when we're wanted 
for weeding out whatever was in our way. The manner 
in which he stared at her could have filled a silver plate 
up to the rim with warm drool from the moon.

Ew she said, why are you looking at me like that 
I want to eat you he whispered. You mean to make 
a meal of me she seethed. That is exactly what I mean 
he snicker hissed. She got undressed and splayed her 
what he paid for. An intimate relation with another 
member of the human family.

Wham blam the trick is dead 
Get an executioner if you want 
to get ahead. Beat a batch of butter 
balling in the bed. Raise em praise em 
might not phase em but they'll graduate 
to hate well fed, well said, until we're all 
quite dead, go ahead, tell you what, why don't 
you instead, do a good deed, and take the lead
I think it can be agreed, what we feed consumes 
us and may assume our identities too

So please realize we have eaten our father 
and passed him on as waste for the process
why yes he would be elated to find he was fated 
to play the next role in his decomposition to help 
fund raise the growth of the land which the hand 
understands was handed hand in hand on a grand 
scale to apprehend or wrap your head around 
before you were found down town drowned 
in a crown and worn upside down with you 
bloodless and hung up from the ground 
held up dry and bound whether to 
wither away altogether or wander 
on the wind one must wonder
so the seer shook his head 
and took himself to bed 
to rid his mind of the 
reddening sight and 
what did he find in 
the middle of the 
night but a dream 
of a red river running 
through his head whispering  
after all nothing true may be said.