Djinn

I.
From the lips, from the rim
of the pipe's glass lip,
they rise up, robed in smoke,
unroll like rising smoke into the room--

They coil upwards like billowing bolts of silk--
a wire-wide curve of light along each brow.
Their thoughts are gas,
their minds a scalding mass of steam--
tesselating augurs, arabesques of thought.
Smoke floods the tunnels of their brains,
fills the gray sprawl and expands...

2.
Cinnamon and sandalwood: halos of vapor
slide around them like slow snakes--
What do they carry so lightly?
Flowers sown of fire line
the sleeves of their ice-black gowns.
What lies as light as ribbon
in the folds of their bundles?

The young boys are now empty
earthenware, discarded on the couch.

3.
These gods smolder, shudder inwards,
converge beneath the blacklight.

Dim in the room,
exchanging vocal glances.
The tight-locked geodes of their skulls
nod, condense slurred syllables.
The air blurs into incense,
their robes' embroidery unravels...

They trail down to the lips
of glass-eyed boys lounging on the floor.
They are sucked back to the fog
of a meat-mind,
tongue of dust,

into the true thirst--


[from The Arcana Fragments, ca. 2001]