A Whisper of the Whistler’s Ghost (3)

Incidental memory, colored glass,
fast focus five favor forever pharmacy.
The fortress fluctuates–the final, final–
last latitude of lassitude levitate
laterally lend the lexical leer pear,
(saucer snow milk melt) mirror
participant prime dime (rhymes)
deter disagree designates disappear

[“Hello Seven.” She says]

Juncture journey’s on fervor’s pyre
rocks non-wood wood bash
bag and wag, lag with a sole snag
over a flag at a summertime beach.
Participate perpetually grind granite
into sand and sand slag sand
out of shoes symbols synch,
waltz repeat as bytes pixelate.
Fluctuate, smudge, flicker, flash
fidget clock hand ticks forget.
Objects orient in abstract snow,
static and flack in a stasis dynamo
rumor, whisper, puff, and wisp,
(static stasis stereoscope filter,

[Seven shakes his head and blinks his eyes.
He furls his brow and stares at empty space.]

Abstract to act actual soil soul and sorrow,
words or pictures on parallel pathway steps.
A fool and his memory, his property and pride
reminisce with fidelity’s familiarity clarity
and fabricate fortune phantasm fantasies.
Spirit or sprite sputtering spectacle
ghost compost, or female form (data),
A hallucination? A single shot of mescal?
Mescalito melancholy carves a conundrum.
The needful necessary crisp air astral alleyway O2
are steps and door through shadow and light,
cigarette, cigar, pipe, or pre-roll preponderance.

[“Of all the moments,” Seven sighs, “this one now?”]

The straw man in the alley raises his viola.
Out of tune horse hairs flicker as its bow
bends bulk on the outward friction abrasion.
He brays, bumps bear, and squeaks;
yips, yaps bulk slide staccato stiffener
and starts a stolid song sad in a minor key.
Through eyeless parse, erratic, and bittersweet,
the fiddler smiles with missing teeth.
He flicks quick his wrist wrinkle and
shakes his shaggy coif with a wink,
forces a fatigued grin, dandy spin.
Wiser eyes shutter shut and into the fog
he casts a whistle true to tonight’s thistles.
Lilith lithe alights behind my eyes.

[Seven recalls Lilith’s scent, perfume and not.]

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