wild onion fractal

Psychotic Tuning Forks (I Write This For Bryan)

slabs of concurrent cedar planks,

shift of cloth-covered feet,

the satin binding of guardians,

the deep blue magic of the Beats,

revolutionaries, the canaries bent

on troglodytic domination,

the flavored mouth sucks, seminal

substance,

he practiced dime-store Sufism

in the YMCA basement, handing out

torn leaflets to the towel boys

and the secret parish priests,

shielding ancient Hindu karma

with an imaginary steel spoon,

and spiked cherry whiskies,

and grins of talented mopes,

emergent from dawn smokes

on  the foreign battlefields, Gehenna,

sweet relief of mystics, long tooth,

array of the holy tomes,

wholly unreadable,

stale sentences of the Ascetics

defaming the memory of Moloch

with olive leaf

stained cargoes,

amphorae of delights, traded

once between masters,

star stuff stolen from Phoenician

harbors,

the nature of salty coastlines

kept in secret orders,

wispy battle toads

sent to do battle

against the war chariots

of phantom hosts,

themselves supplicant to knowledge,

to the weigher of disillusionment

the one true god of discernment,

the wave checker, the reality mind, the hive larva,

the parallels between allegories,

the iron bells and balsa swords of prophetic court,

Salvia, Cannabis Ruderalis, powerful reflection

Popaver somniferum, saliva

of the Himalayan tahr,

whispers of Diane di Prima tonguing

your ear

with the solvent equation that spawns cycles,

you are the limitless purveyor

of opening, the seer in psychosis,

the grappler, the masseuse, the angelic spoof,

the jam surfer, the wise old man in the forest,

the laugher at the grave, the enchanter of Succubi,

the channeler of tone, he whom the Creator granted

baseline conscience, the decider of relevance,

the very wavelength of dimensional form