Bicycle Dreams in the Appalachians

Secret Travelers

Aaron DeWeese

Labor to reach home.

Cycling down mountain interstate, perhaps long ago I traveled before.

Stunted by blue mountain peaks, I precariously pick up speed down the enormous and divided decline.

Now and then a car passes by, fellow mountain travelers, between communities.

There is interstate and mountain.

It is late afternoon.

I am cycling down the mountain.

Tale of the Toilets or Bidet Bottom Washer

Weathered

Aaron DeWeese

I urinate and catch a reflection


A tropical blue strikes with nostalgia


Upon the yellowed waters of the past




Summers of rot become clouded through the glass


My left eye roams, struck with dementia


A book of strange words brings us to erection




Spores and a dankness carried forth by West


A familiar black dog brings news of sadness


The Patriarch spends his time inbreeding

The Fool laughs, dances without understanding


Shiny green scales, the leotard for dress


Walk away on red carpet, shunning the rest

My right eye focuses on the Island


Here there are no winds, only currents of time


They flow forth from a pool of paradox




I drink from a spring in the high above rock


Glimmering reveals a Mercury dime




What gentle message hath Providence planned.

Earthen

Earthen

Aaron DeWeese

At the back wall of the grocery,

Where the deli is situated,

Behind the counter,

A back-lit picture hangs,

Ice Cold.


It is of a red paper Coke cup,

Filled two thirds with nugget ice,

One third with Coca-Cola.


The drink sits upon a mossy stone,

Which lies on the dark fertile ground of a forest.


I can smell the rich soil,

Its essence strong;

More so than the baked and fried deli items,

Which are displayed and kept heated on the counter.


I know that underneath the rotting foundation of the grocery,

And that underneath the foundation of the Sphinx,

There is this same rich black and odorous soil.


I look to the left of the back-lit Coke sign,

Which itself seems to draw condensation,

And I order...


The potato wedges.

Sky Pilot or Blue Rogues Congregate

Rift


Attest to the assemblage of assent.
Behold!  Believers and biologists bewildered.
Bogus boldness, bombastic boasters!
Ascetic asses, aspiring assassins!

Wakeful watchmen on the wearisome way.
Indelible idealist, illumined instrument.
Living loving Lord of Logos.
Liberating Light, leading life.

How the Walls Fell or The Artificer Daedalus

#9

Layered labyrinth lorn

Euphonious effeminate evangelist

Vain vessel of Venus

Injurious intelligence inborn

Acrostic Actress of Air

Taboo tabernacle of the terrestrial

Hail hallowed hallucination of hare

Attest to the ancient astral androgyny

Nude naiad with needle and nepenthe

Gargoyle's Grimoire or Tome of the Stone Church

Drawn 

The skies darken, trees bow.

On the crumbling stone ledge,

with Gargoyle. 

The air lashes at Earth far below.

Within and without, leaves in turmoil.

Ancient stone shingle, exhaled plummit.

Biting droplets assail antediluvian stone.

The Tempest will take what was home.

They want to show me something.

Next to the Well, I am given a tome.

They have filled the pages with images of themselves.

I stand at the door, filled with awed gloom.

The drawings are real.

A Merman swells on the timeworn page.

 

 

Information Wrinkled or My Stomach Feels Bad

Premature Superannuation

Read red forward stop.

Head burning with valerian.

All quiet, one snoring.

The little Self constructed,

By without.

Rude awakening,

Loss of Power.

Is Power more than Knowledge?

Application, motivation, health, opportunity.

Read before sleep,

Perhaps opportunity and exercise tomorrow.

Oppressing mud of existence.

Aaron DeWeese