I am painting these marble skies with the tips of my fingers in iridescent light while the sun lays an egg into a ivory chalice clutched in golden talons manicured in opulent translucent vermillion. Cutting the stars in half only brings my attention to a former dweller who rummages through the bleak corridors of my fragmented mind'�he is alone but carries a wild cockatoo with one eye, perched apprehensively on his left shoulder. I offer him some bread and the bird some water. Silence. Lightning strikes the place between the place where souls meet and the regency of all affable desires come to surface on my shipwrecked transactions concerning the woes of the begotten tribes and races which honored the Mother's real identity and the scrupulous cries of those who watch the bleeding night sink behind precipitous mountains made of baskets woven in ornamental crosses. Still dripping, like broken drainage pipes in the metropolis of arcadia, is the bleeding egg, sun burnt and oxidized, which refuses to die, all the while my mouth still carrying the acidic taste of the dead fetus, encrusted in a sauce of marmalade and discontent, which gave birth to all mankind. The cockatoo speaks to me in Aramaic, while smoking a perfumed Turkish cigarette'� but I distinctly here the word 'OMLETTE'� come out of its fertilized beak. Out of the corner of 'MY GOOD EYE'� I see bathing in sinew and pasteurized egg white, that clearly looks and smells of ostracized semen, are two girls connected at the temples, they are dressed from the waist down in black lace fishnets with crematorium shoes and belts of chastity that not only tell the time but also emphasize the brilliance of mechanized symmetry .One of them writes into a thick book decorated in Medusa Christmas paper while the other paints horseshoes, with a paintbrush made of pubic hairs that belonged to Vermeer's wife, around her sisters firm pink breasts, swollen and stout, no less, from the frigidness of my convalescent stare. In my amazement the bird suddenly flies away, capturing in his beak the novel which the girl had written'�all eyes follow the shadowless trace as it disappears into Saturnalian heights. It shall be noted to all, that on this 5th day of August 2007'�a new transcription of the earths juxtaposed rules and requisites have been submitted too and is awaiting further approval from a higher jurisdiction in an ephemeral plane known as'�


Copyright ©2007 Bailey Hicks

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