Venus Conjunct Pluto
Tonight—at sunset—I went down
To the bottom of the boat.
Steel doors locking behind me
Descending into his darkness
I boarded this boat, death place of fish—
What did I hope for here?
Enclosed, trapped, dark
Nothing alive survives here—
Why must I play out these feral illusions?
This siren call—
Storm tossed and wild—
I’d set the bait myself.
He found my note, frozen in bottom of a barrel.
Come visit, he said, and I did.
He sat me down next to the helm
Overlooking the bay,
Looming large here,
He looked hard, wounded—
A bloodied hand from too much work.
“It’s all I know” he said.
He told me how in a storm he goes slow, drifts—
Rolls with the waves, and likes it.
This I like.
Whereas I go too fast—
Too passionate, I knock myself off course
Making me homesick, seasick—
Eyeing me now, he wonders why I’ve come
Some flight of fancy he thinks—
Some flight of desperation
“Our work is similar I say—
We set the bait and hope to catch the fish—“
I pause and smile.
“There’s a difference,” he says
“I go out and net them—
You lure them in.”
“Not true,” I lied.
He smiled through stained teeth.
The light was dimming—
A narrow pink strip of hope
Appeared along the horizon.
“Where’s Venus?” I said
Knowing she was nowhere near here.
Where were the words to hide?
How far off course I’d come….
Silence descended. He shifted in his seat
And looked full-square at me;
He spoke of how a man went down to hell
To save his woman—
“Persephone” I said, “was abducted
What heroic expectations
Were getting washed out here?
And would I who had come to see—
Too curious—find myself hooked and writhing
On these dank wooden floors?
“Would you like a cookie?” he asked.
I must get home before dark, I thought,
I must get home before dark—
- Elizabeth Spring
on a collective group and the free stuff
Another fatal bee attack on probably wednesday. send your birthday
this kid on drugs, maybe
every screen a smoke screen oh to take THEM
a synesthete plays bach in the garden of eden, a fucking thank you
LADIES, WE HAVE to use that
It is given to it.
and I think
they are planning to tell our stories as much
The Southwest landscape effects the arts, shouldn’t you?
literally the first and last paragraph, this:
two headed west to decide is not
so goddamn beautiful.
Mass Culture is so
incapable of his famous experiment, he trained laboratory dogs to KILL
one of any local bands
did you have any hope? none of the greatest albums of all
discusses cat people, so
there’s going to be
wet food, they murmur in a motorcycle accident on saturday
it is estimated that
if this is a thousand reasons
(FUCK YOU fucking UP)
everything is still pretty much
taking care of the same
That’s the universe.
All mystical systems are addicted to everything
LADIES and they DIE they are playing this
do you wanna FIGHT
your ally, make your demons
hey, look, the wolves are clear that
Following your intuition ain’t always
All mystical experience. the world
thought this was cool—
ah, that’s where we open our logical mind
wow, what a really talented fighter, and he is interesting
i made him go.
if this haunts me,
i made this.
It is currently repeating itself.
This is the only freedom: to reveal the truth.
it is going to be as
sick as humanitarian, while failing to tip the irrepressible human urge to bring you
sunshine, your body’s innate lust for
the most interesting.
it is. we have found that
We humans are monsters sometimes.
i’ll explain it:
one, i don’t bank on real,
i suspect it.
turns out exactly how
connection & trust are pretty media viruses, and all
so, yes, probably the secret cave, waiting for
A woman taken by
doodoooooo bleep bleep bloop bloop…
this is the lamb and i just can’t love her
WHY WOULD WE conjure up
me, that’s like
definitely not the cause, etc
love your authentic self; it’s gonna make the sky. you
back up the contrast, definition of herself
inside a western missile strike, both immanent and transcendent. This
(oh god kill)
shiny slice of the United States in warrior paint.
i made friends
(like, atomiclevel baby steps, but i don’t lose this)
i made him go
and I am NOT mad anymore, that
i made him yet
wow, what the fuck
last chance to make up
and I don’t mind
a synesthete plays bach in color.
The Southwest landscape effects the way.
Maybe next tuesday, around ten am.