Boy! How goes the night?

Stepping out. In fog and filthy air.

What unearthly sight is this?

three

                            stone            

                               brains

Landed with deliberation,

a triangle of alien meteors

so grooved, so round, so inscrutable.

Why in hell are you here?

Where are you really from?

What secrets can you tell me?

A raft of questions.

Ridges and folds.

In their convoluted curves              

                                      smooth from age-old patience

Macbeth feels for mute wisdom.

Ꙩ

           wet-footed lodestars

       Ꙩ

                               rich with kinship

                                                              Ꙩ

At the Vinyl Lounge,

a dance floor resonates with magnetic influence.

Beneath the red, wrought iron vault

fractal moonflowers swirl, laser patterns burst.

His hands carve invisible shapes:

a better use than pointing fingers

when Franki Valli hits those high notes and …

… the night begins to turn your head around.

Afterwards they’ll say

that something weird had come this way

then vanished.

 

ii. 2023