A black light
of solutions mounted
above me and below. The drums
are plummeting with me and into me.
She rides, she screams. She has no place
here but resides and remains. She is a
fixture, a shadow, a pillar. A fraction
of a promise lost and kept. No fluid
in exchange remembers. Not even
molecularly. Not even in reticence
the passive memory of Akashic hymns
promise the fine print to the contract is
more than a footnote. The celestial bells
clamor cacophonous to harmonic, wake
the shaman, and collapse the breath, the
burning kindle at the base of the throat.
The sudden rush of blackness and lust.
“Black Orpheus: Purple Haze” is written by Michael Aaron Casares. All rights reserved.