* *
*
alone
he was very good behind enemy lines
he was very good behind enemy lines
laying flat on his belly he looked over to the opposite ridge
every damn one in his party was firing
their rifles almost to a man using their
rifle slings to stablise their aim
they were no Deerhunters
he had to trouble himself to stay his hand from returning fire
laying there they struck him as men would hunt differently or not at all if their prey shot back
under the bursts and melee it occurred to him how were they fixed to say whose elk it was if they killed it
four men they had expended at least thirty rounds
he supposed hed hear their rationale when he returned to camp that evening
after the gunfire played out they disappeared from atop the ridge
he didnt heard their boots picking their way down into the swale to climb again and retrieve the elk a sick yellow light stirred inside the oven like a dispossessed firefly a moth drawn into the dull light entering it any animal within hearings reach was spooked
he wasnt shellshocked like some who returned something was there furtive undecided shy he was sure he didnt mince words seek euphemisms call something other than what it was to make them more palatable or not carrying violence or water as lies do
No not shellshocked but kin to the shellshocked or warriors those left with no place now among the innocent and untested who were desperate to work their way forward advance try and excise the taloned demons that found purchase on their frayed spun systems systems intentionally and terribly corrupted
the French beat ass they understood the futility of Empire in Indochina
but the United States isolated by thousands of miles of seawater shining seas full of itself wouldnt take a lesson from the French
it had to learn bitter futility all on its own
on the backs of boys whose lives up to the draft were made up of summer jobs earning a drivers license then a high school diploma while all the while trying to make a girl
he hotwired himself and fortunately
was able to stand to one side while others tried in vain to intimidate
or groom then bitched their shellshockedness
he knew Tecumsehs bray and had hardwired it into his system before the United States had their shot at him
he committed himself to it
no halfway
halfwayd get you killed
he saw the smoke and mist that rose up out of dead mens skulls saw in those shimmering veils thin tapestries the deads rambunctious childhoods saw the insides of their dark huts and brown families squatting on grass mats eating from carved bowls smoking pipes fireflies in the night saw no he witnessed their rites initiations their lust rutting on the jungles green littered floor
he actually saw some who were old enough to vow love take a wife have a child or children
now all were dead
their bodies left to rot in a humid jungle
he learned understood it wasnt a mortals place to bring anothers death
their bodies left to rot in a humid jungle
he learned understood it wasnt a mortals place to bring anothers death
only if threatened existentially
he never sought it
it was put on him and put on him he wasnt rolling over like a helpless dog
it was put on him and put on him he wasnt rolling over like a helpless dog
he defined himself
his definition insulated him
and defined he wouldnt want to cross himself or have to face himself down
the unnecessary ugliness had a shelf life
something was there the spotted mica it being manufactured in Germany the stove really attracted him
he nodded off laying in bed
a book collapsed on his chest its leaves spread spine proud a warm honey
storyteller seducer he was halfasleep halfexpecting it to nuzzle his chest begin
to wiggle slip like loose coils and curls of fragrant hair down to his belly his
hand taking its spine clutching it pushing it down down encouraging it then at his hips at his hips where it gently
fingered his cock with hunreds of patience teasing pages hungering him then eager but not too eager and sensual very
sensual warm and moist engulfing his length taking him between its folds its
spine firm riding him deliberately rocking side to side then rising up coming
down then slowly up sliding slipping down and rising again . . . .
it lay tented on his chest
it lay tented on his chest
over its long cherished spine that pointed like a finger he looked
he looked where it pointed
something was there where he laid he could see into the stoves face there was a yellow amber marbling and moulding
awake he set the book aside on the mattress absently turned down the blanket and sheet burying the book got out of bed held his hand up he looked to the wall where the bed was against it and saw he could scarcely make it out his hands shadow he wiggled his fingers a forlorn goodbye and recognised their faint shadows animated by his random choreography
it threw enough substance enough light
the stove was cold
ashes were in a pail beside it
he wouldnt stoke it for a couple more hours
stoked with shavings and kindling and flint and steel or matches
he entertained himself throwing sawdust over the growing fire and watched it spark like fairy dust immolate and disappear up the black throat of the flue
he walked across the room now never taking his eyes from its sinuous marbling and oily movement
he squatted
haltingly he expectantly placed his hand on the stove fearing heat or hot despite knowing it was black and cold and dead
t was cold inside a gob of highlighted plastic amber shone painting his naked chest with fluctuating hues and random patterns nonsensical
he squatted deeper
he peered as it were face-to-face into the mica
inside was dandelionyellow then it striated with bolts quivering blackness veined purple its surface burnt like stone captured in a lava flow then crumbling translucent once more
then somewhere inside it
movement
deliberate distinct movement
his hand still atop the
stove
undirected it sought its corner and held it
he felt something electric emanate vibrate he felt source as if his fingers were underwater gently tugged by the current of a creek in the creek outside the house
it palpating his fingers brushing the palm of his hand
undirected it sought its corner and held it
he felt something electric emanate vibrate he felt source as if his fingers were underwater gently tugged by the current of a creek in the creek outside the house
it palpating his fingers brushing the palm of his hand
the movement inside the stove began assembling
disparate bits gobs of mercury remembering itself
coalescing
the assembly moved forward moved towards the mica his face
he was spellbound expectant unexpectant
his knees groaned maybe urging him back away
his hand luxuriated in the fine sensation the semblance of slow moving creek water the rose and auburn the thrills of bright yellow plumes raucous abstract touched the mica inside
then a small childs hand appeared
distinct
first fingertips then fingers
then a firm flatplaced palm
bringing his free hand up from where he cradled it on his thigh at his knee he held it up to the mica touched it opposite the childs hand hiding the childs hand behind his
then flickering butforafewseconds a boys face appeared over his hand opened his eyes troubling away a deep sleep the child didnt want to open his eyes he blinked provocatively fluttered his lashes
his eyes yawned
then the boy closed his eyes and what he saw in the mica subsided
it churned in twisting coloured skeins curls
tumbling
marbling
then
dull and duller the failing light gone black
extinguished
he lived out away from people nurturing and protecting his introvert
he kept away those who might stomp his toes inadvertently
he kept them at bay for their own
safety
all things seem to possess undying memories
niggling they return
all things seem to possess undying memories
niggling they return
returning when they can
one could surmise they return like
silent forgotten viruses
1555, Saturday,
21 5. 16
1051, Twosday, 24 5. 16
1051, Twosday, 24 5. 16
