and now it’s time to go to Eye of Newt

Originally uploaded by Foxtongue.

There is a boy asleep in my bed. He has dirty fingernails and one of the prettiest smiles in all the world. Kier, I’ve written about him before, called him an angel sitting by the side of the street. He had a purple hat then and spoke french to me. This time he was trying and failing to light a cigarette. Bandages on his face, knuckles scraped free of skin, he was sitting torn on someone’s front step. “How’re you?” “Terrible, you?” That smile, bruised, but like light. The matches were being blown out one by one by the wind. When I pulled out my lighter and lit it for him, our hands cupping the flame, I felt like I had stepped into the sort of film I found romantic as a child. Henry and June, Delicatessan, something with a heavy handed denial of pathos, quirky with a decent twist of Anias Nin.

It makes me uncomfortable that part of me finds him maddening, as if I could somehow swallow him whole as a muse, transform his flesh into shadow and stich it to my own, so I could be an artist too. I’ve never understood it and it has always made me wary. He’s one of the few people I can’t stare down. I’ve known him awhile now, but I see him rarely. Divinity is dangerous.

And speaking of disturbing things, this wins this week’s Most Awesome Video award. I’ve been passing it around on my messenger, so you may have already encountered it on your friend’ page, but if not, it’s well worth the momentary horror.

Also: Zombiewalk footage is now available, as are my Zombie photos.

this is from august 9th

and so she wakes again with the feeling of crows wings,
feet in the corners of her eyes,
like her gaze was walking in her dreaming,
seeing and being in places she’d never been,
never thought to be.
Sky reflections of water falling,
rain green instead of silver,
the sound of a shower in the next room.
Tile floor, a dressing room table with claw feet.
Old, all old, and comfortable,
the wood silver washed,
as if surviving generations of children had
worn like water
and made the furniture friendly.

It will all pass, they say,
we have more time than you,
so come and be merry,
and we won’t have to notice you again.

and so she wakes up with the feeling of being there again,
that place that is no place,
that name without a name.
Cliches, all of them,
and all of them true.
Waking to the sound of a shower in the next room.