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"The Payload" 

The payload 
came crashing down
like rain expelled
from the fat belly 
of a ruinous pregnant cloud 
bilious with buxom promise

it came crashing down 
like school fish released 
from the tight confines
of a course rope net
heavy onto a deck, where 
harried feet shuffled like cards

it arrived prematurely 
with some strange mystery
like a hidden meaning
heard in the crackling of 
dry autumn leaves, and
whisper of breeze 
past the ear

like a feather floating 
down down to the ground
as if an envelope delivered
by anxious owl proxied with 
impending news, it fell, 
before one tread
their next step;

the crunch came 
when one felt the 
sharp interruption 
under boisterous boot, 
which gingerly pushed 
the pile of pungent Winter rot aside
and bent down to observe 
with their wide open eyes

hidden, there, 
in the peat bog like loot,
the rising scent of the dead, 

pine leaves unruffled
loose for the chase, yet -
still, incomplete,
albeit wanton, supine 
in the fecund soil, 
lusty blood worms 
lazily turning, not forlorn
lovingly climbing legs 
of scurrilous moist roots 
as if 'tween splayed web of 
tree spirits’ and gnomes’
fingers and toes, squelching 
joyfully in the lavish fresh wet,
had no time to doze

musky rodent scat littering 
dung bug mottled bark, 
the colour of moss,
carnal toads camouflaged
entwined in bank bilge
mud of charcoal and soot,
slipping long velvet tongues out 
to Venus Fly Traps, like caressing 
partners in the hunt, 
swallowing arachnid, 
gnats, horned beetles and such 

life moved subatomic,
somewhat subterranean,
breaking seals in small revelations,
the message came softly,
silently expelling 
gilled satin red caps
like small buttons, flecked 
with white fayre paint, 
dancing up the spine of brittle 
dull scattered bones, tickling fungi,
enamoured with the acridity of 
silky lichen written like Kalevala runes
all over a lost body of work 

there, 
in the elevation
of such solemn property
the message, 
like some disease
slowly spreading,
breaching over scapula, 
invading northwards,
towards the broken, 
chalk antlers 
of skeletal King stag, 
the harnessed skull stuffed 
with Sialia nest, 
its eye sockets, open,
eerily examining 
the external intruder,
spies the shine 
of pale blue eggs
signalling the other, 
the internal voice,
like oculei dei novum
as if some avatar demiurge
in consort with insignificant small bird,
progressed to pull one in
telepathically with this 
magick message absurd, 

the ivy in the mind 
climbs cautiously
and curiously peers
through the windows
from slow observation deck,
the internal one questions,
“what chicanery this?”
as if conspiring
to flummox the now 
supernatural frost falling 
upon one's heart,
as if something other
was buried in the meaning
of this Paradise Lost?

There, 
before the observer,
stare solemn blue eyes,
constant, alert, yolked ready, 
as if to break like seven seals break,
they watch and they wait,
they break in their own time -
now or then, 'tis never too late;

between,
the chalky lips
underneath the broken teeth 
of the beast, a grin gapes
leaking a smile, no tongue 
for the speak,
in the cavity,
like a wonderous
cave unmeasured,
or an open trap door,
there reveals 
a small treasure,
unexpected, surreal,
one just knows -
there's so much more,

a piece of fading parchment,
tattered yellow,
demands its release

the observer 
bends to one's knees,
as if genuflecting without ease,
gathering to oneself some light 
from ghostly will-o-the-wisps, 
min min some say, but then, 
some also say fey,
to take in what little light left
from that glow worm glen time,
when long night steals fading day, 
they bedazzle their aura 
over the puzzled one,
deciphering odd scrawl
in lapis lazuli ink 

it reads,

“for all creatures, 
this labyrinth, 
has unexplored territories
go where’st they wilt, 
do as thou please, 
in my realm 
there are many rooms, 
dark and light 
for you, you alone,

alone, I construct
long night and short day,
birds and bees, 
leviathans, oceans 
holy and unholy sees,
sunshine 'n rain,
pleasure 'n pain,
trees holding secrets
written in rings,
forever circling 
the meaning of things,
the mystery of such 
encapsulates much,
your history, you see,
some pleasant, yet
quite frightening things, 
like nightmarish dreams,
forests you like to cut down
because you’re foolish 
and mercenary, 
like stories, 
the precious woods breathe, 
so you may live, think and feel, 
you may see, the truth in it all,
if you choose to believe,

skies that cry 
beam with joy, 
writing their stories 
down in great veins 
of bolt lightening, 
thunder is the spoken word -
You are quite able to 
hear the messages
when you please, 

you doubt this, 
and yourself,
because you are still 
very small, a mere human;
in time, eventually you will
understand it all,
when you are no longer 
of Man;

however, 
do remember, 
to leave the door open
as you turn the key 
to go your own way, 
for other creatures
and their stories 
to walk in 
like lost souls,
so they may see, 
with their own eyes
and minds, 
how it all is,
to gift them freedom 
in their noteworthy 
and knowledgeable say,
for the listening lesson.

I write 
the words, 
I write it all 
in the book,
you’re right there 
amongst it all, 
if you care to open 
your heart like your eyes
take a read, take a very good look

I am 

there, 
in your mind, 
that says it all
does it not? 
some will say crazy, 
others will not;

take the time
to walk through 
all your chapters, 
take a very good look,
there’ll be questions
after matins that matter;
possibly, but not lastly, some supper,
discussion is off the chart off the hook
alone time with me,
should be interesting
off the page, as they say
out of that book,
what a treat!
don’t roll your eyes at me,
when I speak.

my bite 
is worse 
than my bark, 
if you take the time 
to understand 
and to look.

after review,
we’ll look at the edit again
and pull the whole
story apart,
for the troops


(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
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