Tonight the sky swirls
with vultures
cloud-seeding grids over Dallas
like slender silver-backed fish
diving through ebony
leaving long, white, wakes.
Last night the rain came hard
woke my dog, asleep at my feet.
Had to close the windows.
I’d been dreaming of this place,
all dark reds, Enochian on the walls,
like some gothic junkie Crowlean wanna-be,
but firmly a part of the Dreaming.
A man in a bowler hat read his poetry:
“The Mage commands that U.S. operatives
give no mind to the coming Apocalypse”
He is a lunatic
and ex-Intelligence
so I don’t disbelieve him.
Some bird-haired lady kept asking me
“Do you know who’s side you’re on?”
And I looked in my bag for some kind of initiation
but my hand sprouted this garden
and I blinked;
opium poppies in a hashishim harem
Hassan I Sabbah looked up at me
with one red eye.
The rain makes me remember.
