Rejoice in Your Bicycle of Light and Shadow, I’m Getting Rum

I was asked to write a poem about space and time and a story inspired by the silhouette of an old-fashioned bicycle. So, I wrote of imaginative physics, bicycles… rum and magic.

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“You are someone else’s memories dancing in the arms of chaos,” the angel says, “time, space, colors and taste are made of flesh.” I say nothing, but senses are communal in worlds made of fear or will—I feel her feel my sister’s chant, delight in smugness made of love’s thoughts. “Impossible,” she says, when black, red and the scent of spirits unmake her reality.

She tries to speak again, but I touch a warm finger to the light and shadow of her lips, and whisper, “Shhh, my sister is witching.”

“Out of dark
shadow and light, I
conjure rum.”

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a wee note…
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the writing yum. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have conjured out of shadowy bikes. And if you are feeling poetic and daring, try Physics with Björn: Space time and the special theory of relativity, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

photo by Jellico’s Stationhouse

A Stinker of a Time

If you’ve read me for more than a season, then you already know that my springs tend to be full of T.S. Eliot and The Waste Land. Who can resist inspiration like: “That corpse you planted last year in your garden / Has it begun to sprout? Will it bloom this year?”

“A Stinker of a Time”

I learned the trade from Primavera the Fisher.

“Spring can’t stand botched up winter jobs,” Primavera said, the first morning she took me to the docks. “She always floats their mistakes to the surface. It’s a stinker of a time for us, even when their rot comes carrying gifts.”

Before I could ask what she meant, Primavera speared a severed hand that had been bobbing for sunlight. Its pinky finger wore a huge ruby ring.

“They’ll never be good at winter jobs, if they can’t keep a corpse from blooming in spring.”

In winter, it’s best to bury or burn.

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a wee note…
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the writing bloom. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have fished out of the docks.

photo by Fatima Fakier Deria

A Pristine Disappointment

Her “beauty[…] was the radiance of an opium-dream[…] Yet her features were not of that regular mould which we have been falsely taught to worship in the classical labors of the heathen.” ~ Edgar Allan Poe

Dear Master,

Although starting a letter with a quotation is unorthodox, I feel the words of your idol best describe the home I’ve secured for us. The house itself is a pristine disappointment. However, the lack of corruption mutilating our new walls will mean nothing after you glance upon the mad angel who lurks next door. I’ve included a sketch.

Your eternal servant,
Igor

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the wee notes…
– A house behind twisted trees (see below) made me think of my beloved Poe, and of his love for the gnarled and uncanny. I went digging for a piece out of Odessa Begay’s Edgar Allan Poe coloring book, which I colored in a rather imaginative way *cough*.
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the fun. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have dragged from behind the fence.
– Linked to Prompt Nights ~ Fly (0ver) Friday.

inspired by Edgar Allan Poe’s “Ligeia”
colored to mad life by moi

photo by J Hardy Carroll