cs blanchefleur. Galveston State Park, Gull
the Mountain Goats. Young Caesar 2000
In the Kingdom of Doom, evil coalesces, controlling the path of all. But when all their misplaced dreams begin to collapse in darkness, they find no voice, because they are bereft of trust. They live in a Tower of Babel, & their incurious souls are the last to know. Their corrupt ideal adumbrates an imminent demise. This demise is layered &, at first may appear problematic but merely a blemist. Their thoughtless arrogance assumes the lion to ultimately slaughter the lamb. In human terms, this makes sense. How might naivety & love conquer an evil beast busily destroying others through deception & wickedness? There is nothing new under the sun, & we mustn’t pretend that all of this is worse or better. But we have seen the wild dogs, & they are hungry, & the glory of this all is that we know their wretched hearts can not survive God’s immutable love. They will starve. They will die of thirst. Or, of course, there is the off chance they may be healed. But I doubt it.
May 12, 2013
cs blanchefleur. They Will Rise Up & Take What Belongs to Them
Blanchefleur spoke, wildly gesticulating to an obtuse audience of one. A numbing blankness mumbled from the desk, making his own voice sound emphatic, although the tape recording would later reveal a reasonable, & only slightly alarmed tone, dulling his concern. Across the desk, where death sat, the bureaucrat answered, his own voice just above a whisper. In half-empathetic pallor, revealing a cold lack of interest, the commandant unspooled Blanchefleur’s memories of narratives from the early 90s, when his life, newly graduated from college, had seemed a meaningless interview. The figure stood up suddenly with uncharacteristic glee, a new wrinkle, unavailable during the interview. Bricks sidled around his desk, his lizardish body attenuating the Golem in Lord of the Rings. Perhaps City Hall was considering this mess, including Corporal Hammer’s caustic trip into the Blue Cafe the day before.
In seconds, Mr.Bricks was within 2 feet, holding out his hand in a gesture of amicable cooperation. Blanchefleur, felt hot breath nearing his left shoulder, & confused by the city manager’s sudden swiftness, complied and reached forward to shake his offered hand. Mr. Bricks jerked Blanchefleur’s hand towards him, impatiently, and then looked him square, no longer the barren stare Blanchefleur had received moments earlier. Suddenly, Mr. Bricks had eyes of blood. Blanchefleur felt dizzy. His hand began to feel crushing pressure. Only moments before, Mr. Bricks’s gaze had seemed without purpose, now it burned. For a moment Blanchefleur felt he was watching a ghost. Mr. Brick’s ruddy complexion was now that of a corpse, all of its color moving to his eyes. Months later, Blanchefleur remembered a feeling of mordant sorrow floating into the room, then a sudden chill. This was the day it would all go clear. The tweakers were on offense.
Blanchefleur thought of tombstones & flowers. The flowers were yellow like the sun.
Foxygen. San Francisco. from the LP, We Are the 21st Century Ambassadors of Peace & Magic
Philip Glass. Mad Rush
Juan Gris. Verres, Journal et Bouteille de Vin, Collage (1913)
(photo) csblanchefleur. Bramble Kingdom
csblanchefleur. December Psalm
Our humble geometry
umber & gold
foisted itself into
& untied our specific algorithm,
sated by flowers & a secret clarity —
we exist when we allow
we are fearful ghosts
patterns of victory,
beneath the dying brambles