J. Karl Bogartte

 

In the elevator, which is mirrored on all sides by the seven wonders
of the world, and so positioned in time, that a great river many years

ago continues to flood through the last remaining villages...

now only whispering can be heard amongst those who have remained

to pose for the photographer.

The darkness is a liquid that stands tall and naked, while the reclining
priestess, more starlight than fountain, is pouring honey from the

hive-like structures of her immense sigh... They are dancing now,

and become light around the skeletal trapeze that is my shadow,

when it rises from sleep, spinning at the top floor, going down at a

speed impossible to determine... then lifting upward in all directions at once.

The elevator takes off on it's own, plowing through the forest with
all the grinding of a single embrace that unveils the body of stars

and other pathological movements in space and, for one brief, but

singular moment, when no one is looking, stoops to lick the ruby of the

sleeping girl's face. She spreads her shadow, dripping with soft

pharmaceuticals of delight, and with trembling lips opens the belly

of a lingering glance... "Eat me," she whispers, and sheds her skin like

a dream of wolves... "

In the center of the room, lighted by impending arrivals and departures,
the shadow's twin sister, Orchid, unravels the sinister membrane of her

scent, and floods the room with unbearable humming: "Would you

love me still, if I poisoned you just a little?"

 

 

 

 

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