THE PERSIAN TRIANGLE (RA-KALI-ISA)

I.

The temperatures of darkness vary between dreams

solid, bone-cracking murkiness

to the light dusk of departure

within these realms we encounter spirits, dialects of worship written in gold hand on tablets. pilgrims and saints suffocated by the guilt of the rolling wheels of the search for god in the vast emptiness this life projects.

This cold has the bite of a steel jaw. rugged teeth tear through sinew and bone in quick calculated movements. blood freezes solid on the hardwood floors soaked into the rivulets and cracks. in the dungeons time labours on, unwavering. the slow ghostly minutes fall like snow and conceal our path back. 

II.

A blooded sun raises from within its womb

sparingly inching forward
fire invokes the spirits to bring the light forth

into the still grey hours

Salome forms her slender body through the reflections of glass. mirrors show her backward movements, the silk hugging her delicate bones like pearl ornaments beneath fabric. volatile eyes from where fear and magic have been distilled like old wines formed over time, trapped in amber, released in incantations through fire-worship. She moves emeralds between her fingers, moaning incoherently as the windows open and shatter the mute air. Outside is bird song, the death of todays mysteries.

III.

Between our sight-lines and the locusts, 

dawn bathes in the raptures of morning. 

the still wind curves between the hillocks

seeking rest in the quivering wheat

This is where I betrayed you. Your eyes innocent with trust. And I betrayed you. I broke you, like an opaque egg-shell falling in shards. your bones snapped under the weight. your eyes dampened to a dark, morose coal. I stretched out my hands and wiped my scent from your brow, and steered the boat outwards into the deserted ocean. 

IV.

Ritual. 

The absence of self.

Bodies lay in wavering states of lucidity, fighting for their memories to carry them onwards. Mine are dying slowly, stolen one by one in the wind. emptying the thoughts and recollections I carried for such eternities, chained like commandments around my neck, now rusting and breaking into pieces that no longer can be mended.

It is time for the ghosts to pass through these portals, and collect what remains of this dream.

THE MURDER TIDES

dragged from the whirling ocean I caught you

foam spitting and salt cascading from empty pores

the wind whipped your hair

and your eyes were dead as a cathedral 

lashes and eyebrows crushed

you clawed my back as the waters parted

and my thighs struggled to cope with the weight

I thought you dead, but your strength prevailed

perhaps a spasm or an instinct

your white dress exposed and ragged 

my breath passed onto your lips

moments later your eyes cleared with the fragrance of life

your fingers clasped my wrists

your hair began to breathe

"forsaken quest", you whispered: "I was at peace, now I am in hell once more".

I left you there for the tide to batter

for in my heart you were dead

and in memory, forgotten.