Arcane Gestures

Claude Cahun-1929-1930

Following the arcane gestures of your hands
That replicates and duplicates the movement
Of your swaying rolling hips against my pelvis
I stare long and hard into your glittering eyes
Focused on the middle distance chasing down
An ecstasy among the chimeras and paradoxes
The beauty of your distracted expression
Is a provocation, an exhalation of pure spirit
A command from above that I dare not refuse
For you alone can take me there to where I belong
Drenched with colour and drowning in sound
Overwhelmed by sensation and alive in love

Forgive

Stephanie Jung-Tokyo

Now that I am fragile,
Now that the days weigh
Upon an already heavy heart,
Now that nights are infinite
With accumulated dread,
Now that I am falling,
Now that I need you
Can you forgive?
I have accrued sins,
There have been omissions,
Mortality is approaching
With an annihilating vision
That never assuages only
Magnifies the complicity,
A burden of guilt
Vaster than death:
Now that it’s too late,
(For it’s always
Later than we think)
For me to change;
Can you forgive,
Now that I need you?

 

Noir Ending

 

The Big Combo

Here we go once again: better to start back at the beginning
Remember those days and nights filled with the glamour
When I locked our looks together I saw a door swing open
To reveal another door but not matter I was ready to stumble
Over the threshold with you on my shoulder a wonder
To marvel at vision shared doubled with intensity revelation
Of another more expansive world drenched in vivid colour
All the senses overloaded hyper stimulated the slightest
Glance of hand against the gold glimmering skin overwhelmed
Leading me to groan inside whenever I heard you gasp
Because I have always known how to ultimately disappoint
I learned over the years to savour the bitter fruits of betrayal
All the best movies have a noir ending when the credits roll
So this is us omega over and out amen: until the very next time

 

The Book of Miracles

Book of Miracles

I am more than a little uncertain
Though I hesitate to state precisely
The exact nature of my confusion
Regarding the world and the moment.

Surely it cannot possibly be as it seems
I refuse to countenance that it is for real
Friday night and it’s not alright at all
Then Saturfuckingday and I want to rend
Let chaos reign soaking to the bone
Revel in the excesses and movement
From wildly contrasting zones and regions
The Arctic chill of terror icing the veins
Roiling fevers of isolated equatorial lusts
The insanity of an all too vivid lucidity
Divine frenzies of total intoxication
But I tell you something has got to give
We make out like we care but I can sense
The calm expectation before the excitement
Mounts as we approach the end my friend
Let me look in my Book of Miracles my love
For portents signs and omens yes all there
A positively medieval frame of mind
Lets turn back the clocks get the time
To sync break open the seals
Let it come down.

The Glitches of Fear

August Natterer, My eyes at the moment of the apparitions, 1911-1913

Do you ever get that eerie feeling that something is not quite right?
The time is out of joint, unsynced, slowing right down,
Woozy with inertial entropy, cackling and hissing with static,
A soundtrack of ghosts residing in obsolete machinery
That reveals in the memory troubling gaps, the lacuna
Of shifting, impermanent assembled identities,
Assumed from random incidences, baroque notions
Jumbled together with jump-cuts, replays and glitches
Washed out and bleached of colour by false recollections,
Subject to the drifting haze of hypnagogic hallucinations,
The reverb and sinister echo of malevolent technologies,
That transforms all that is most tender and unique
Into a single freeze-framed image of absolute, stock fear.