"The swastika/
was once the Wheel of Life;"
More Perihelion:
Bob Sward's Writer's Friendship Series
Turn
The blacksmith goes lame from his hammer.
Leather tans the tanner;
and, on what had been eyeballs and tongue,
acid, from a broken flask,
etches out his name.
The dancer is danced:
the rye is in St. Vitus;
and the ergot is in the rye
Brahma/Vishnu spare us.
Eagles
feed on carrion; and
would rather fish than fight;
pigs
can be toilet-trained, and can be bathed
and perfumed, and have been known to weep.
The cross
becomes the hilt of a sword;
the crescent of the moon,
the curve of a saber;
the edges of their sacredness
drip warm and red.
Cells
grow or die; grow to die;
cancer cells
grow until the organism dies;
by growing, kill us.
Vishnu/Brahma heal us.
The swastika
was once the Wheel of Life;
the American Flag,
once the guardian of freedom.
_______________________________________________________________ Sofia
I saw a video last night. The pale woman
was hiding from the police. Her face
looked like a vixen; she cried
like a blossom. A much younger hunky
sandy-haired student (a beamish Neanderthal
with parted lips) fell in love with her and
helped (take the clothes off)
her. Without verisimilitude, he ran
as fast as her taxicab to warn her,
but she was taken
by the dolormondo police, looking
like vaudeville villains
with seriousness as a disease
and moustaches as a way of life. I think
that they lived in Argentina, drank
the water there, and spoke
Spanish, but it could have been Classical
non-frabjous Greek; I couldn't tell
which because Spanish sounds like Greek
when the sound is off.
Anyway, I ran the tape
backwards.
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