Art by Guillermo Lorca Garcia - Poetry by Laurence Fuller
Rambunctious dream child of deadly fantasies, subject to all the beautiful suffering nightmares of long forgotten heros and hungry whippets speeding down tangled passages of imagination. This isn’t what I thought it would be, there’s tremendous creatures here, they talk to me with so much mystic wisdom, how do they know it all to be deadly dreams untrue. How much can it be put into words, it never made much sense to me anyway. You talk in trapped riddles and never straight to me, always five steps behind some kind of screen that I cannot perceive. He tells stories of mountain demigods grinding dusty bones of omens, they seem impossible heights to carry with certainty though there it is, all in front of us to see exactly as he said it would be. I’m enjoying this mad adventure now, I have a feeling this buzz will ricoshade over towering new heights, I know he’ll go on to do great things and I don’t want to get in his way anymore. Pluck my wisdom teeth I made medicine pillows from fairy guts beyond that, I see patterns on a chair my grandmother sat in telling me this day would come, and when it did I would know what to say to you. Take me there.
The king will come, he summoned us to run wild in the hills and whispered dreaming demons to catch our heels on the sprint. Guide our paws to catch precious prey, at the end we stand back and watch him take what we fought for. The monarchy motors the profit pumps of industry. Still I tumble through dark forests. Boars spill the feast of their prize winning guts that guzzle by beautiful dogs and thank them for forever praising wisdom. Gold tastes better freshly melted, lap it up from milky flexing meat. I trust these beasts to destroy me in the most wonderful way. Trickle pain down my legs with brilliant strings of precious metals of distinguished gentry, chorus in the dark for, I’d be worried if I wasn’t so sure some new feast would spring from the everlasting well of graceful kingdoms. Devour delicious wanders in the hunt for forest plunder, the best life waits ahead, have patience it will come, stalk the prize for its not too late to strike in the pace of enchanted dances. Step forward it will come, together we take a piece of our own we share this shining bloody catch for us. Taste that gold before another does, this is mine now I’ll eat my fill before its ripped from my possession. Another one and now it’s gone again, drink from treasure rivers while we can. Spill into our mouths, we are not common now we’re kings.
Time of year once again we fling merry mustard tarts down our gullets, milk, honey and wine to time we spent together in childish mayhem, let that laughter ring out in the halls of happy absurdity, this is what true love feels like, the jesters of this whirlwind world declarations of poetry lived out and families gather in celebration of merry bounty!