green qualia

it's pyramid season. limestone rinds are splitting open, scattering the ground with milky-pulpy pharaohs, still coiled in their golden casings

even though we're far apart, i know one day we'll both be hermaphroditic ice worms together and live for 500 years on the polar caps of an exomoon

when petted, the cattlefish's fur oscillates in expanding rings of lavender, ochre, and deep green, the sequence strobing faster the harder you press

you can reincarnate as anything. i'll find you as a butterfly's eyespot, a double fisherman's knot, the mechanosensation of hand-holding, a nonce-phoneme that died with its last speaker

touching grass isn't enough. i need to fall through an under-meadow where all mowed lawns go and find grass kissing itself in a mirror, but only on the blades

my childhood friend had a progeria that aged him by millennia, his connective tissues petrifying into silica by the 5th grade. chalcedony tony, we called him

i have two calendars so far, a polyrhythmic fibonacci cycle and a hellenistic pentad system. who doesn't love a good calendar docs.google.com/spreadsheets...

www.anaphoria.com/mintime.html

Jongleur's Calendar

your name is called from inside the floor by a voice that's always been deep inside the floor. the wong-baker pain-scale faces all smile and point toward it

all her cards are on the table, but the cards are the 4 of corridors, the queen of keyholes, and the joker of doors. the table's in a spruce cabin behind her eyes, snowed-in since 2005

sleeping with a kaleidoscope, glass pipe, and a half ping-pong ball under my pillow "in case the portal opens"

the date was going fine until we stumbled into a moonlit field of feral musk hogs, smelling of rancid earth and regret. we ran with them anyway. their hooves were gentle on the wetlands

smell is the most lovecraftian sensory modality: primitive, wired directly to the limbic system, with non-euclidean perceptual organization (odor space is hyperbolic), its dysfunction auguring dementia

sorry, i'm too tired to write anything, perhaps you'd like to see my cat instead

▶

your heirloom kittens shed crumpled verdigris fur. their silver whiskers tarnish, darkening. still you hear the wind-up music box purrs

today's beauty tip: grow silky-smooth accretions. give yourself coralface. scrub until your pores become lacunae. think "Green Man but lavender woman"

let's sit in the corner and sniff oils together

i'm doing it again (prowling the shores of northumbria salt-blinded and shaking, searching for my kraken lover)

please pick me up from the mandala. i'm the blue in the northeast quadrant, i think, although the kalachakra hovers in a sky of the same blue. scoop me out in the widest bowl you have

we panned rainbows for gold, then fracked green flashes for jade. last tuesday, a montana rancher backhoed a tourmaline orrery out of a parhelic circle

"apricotica erotica" depicts aphrodite born not of seafoam but of apricot runoff, heliotropic and risen with wasps on tides of lactones and pheromones

oh dear, the disembodied plane of color which floats above my humidifier has acquired a paradoxical depth, as if simultaneously receding and advancing

anxious? just eat well, exercise, drink the green vial not the emerald-green vial, dream only of the empty atrium, and submit your metrics to the Department of Continuous Joy

the difference between ravens and crows is that ravens have luna-essence and can transmute into the moon, whereas crows only erupt into golden suns

what if we kissed in the formless jhanas, a translucid empty space with no colors, our faces overflowing with void, like void kissing void