“I now pronounce you, Cosmic,” the gelatinous, feathery, aubergine spindly figure solemnly spoke.
Repetitious vibrations, open-ended questions, salty convection currents
all stacked to a head, to the spear of a mislead, starry night
where gifts on camel-back came lumbering over dunes and through oases
to be proffered at the chubby feet of a newborn, fists covered in linguine
for he came too quick and couldn’t be cleaned.
“I now ask you to make your decision,” cold and slippery fingertips trailed zig-zags on my forehead.
Be at peace in space-less time and time-less space, Now. This instant.
Wait for sun-drenched bliss at the end of this human intervention,
And never again shall you return.
Or, be at all heights and depths in any space-time continuum,
bending, mimicking, crunching, and re-aligning.
Come in skin, come to dine, come to shake off tattered pride,
for the thousandth time,
Then you never have to be here again.
Which one will you write?
— yiqi 31 march 2015 5:28 pm