Sandeep Parmar
from Eidolon (section 37)
from Eidolon (section 37)
xxxvii.
You are wild-eyed
You are Helen
The grey-blue dawn
the Rosey-fingered Dawn
turning the snaking cloud
into the body of a goddess
raising her thin spear
we glide across
the blue-eyed morning
changing flags
as a woman changes
her lover as often
as another
lover permits
we glide across
zones of conflict
The wind lays down a road
across the waves
hiding us in a mooring of fog
flanks of earth lighten
like fantasy like Leda’s body
to make way for our white ship
of a hundred tiers
and some thousand men
This parthenous soup
of buried cities
held close we make out
the scent of their joints
the only real thing
in an invented eschatology
of free will
Did I mention the Indiana corn
from whence I came
and its hot unendingness?
Proud like crosses on a prairie landscape.
Corn madness
industrial corn a devil
bleating like a harp
made of 22 karat gold
High Fructose Syrup
infantile mass delusion god
sugar fix of empire
Helen makes out the morning freeze
in the stillness of a suspended harvest
what eviction has nature made
in retaliation for these unkillable crops?
Out out for the outing acres of frozen heads.