Storyteller

le Jardin, 1962, by Max Ernst 

Hold me as close to your fantasies as I will ever come.

Wave a magic wand

over forgotten fastenings;

wake me from the hollow tree.

How big is a halo, a button, a zipper pull?

Your eyes flash parable blue,

pan with anticipation,

tighten to close-ups of hands and feet.

Nothing is lost on the cutting room floor;

whisper a sweet amen at the end.

Remember this holy travelogue,

so it can be told over again,

without pillars of cloud.

Expose my gothic wings.

God and all the saints are gone; only kitsch remains.

tk/October 2013


Another excellent read from the incomparable R.A.D. Stainforth: 

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