tears just keep on falling lotus flower

Her combed skin creased and stretched over the topography of her face. Vacant and exposed I see her kneel, her rib cage sucked in deep with despair. She tried in vein to make the oxygen seep through the orifices, she couldn’t. I sat behind her and pulled until the limbs were rooted and spread, stop! Stop! She cried I can’t breathe. Don’t fight it you are here.

Easing her into the hall and laying her down in rigour mortis then pulling her jumper up I gently knead around her mother connection. Slow and deep.  This uncut cord is engulfing the life out of her. Everting to recreation.

Desperately trying to limn into a foetal position the body looks for succour.

Pulling up and away, shaking the tears come. Why! Why? Jesus help me! Letting her move to her own moribund desires she rolls into the anhedonic ball.

In this apostasy state I grab the wool from the shelf. Garbling gnostic utterances I bind her into a skein.

It is thick and soft, comforting, washed raw wool she smells the earth. Breathe in: deep… Imagine you are this yarn, each strand and fibre pulled and knitted. The dropped stitches, the twists and turns, the under and over’s no two yarns are the same. No two hand knitted garments are the same.

Massaging her head I reach for the atlas bone and pull up- a perdurable manoeuvre that never fails to quell the demiurge wrangling with the mind and body.

She closes her eyes and rests then sleeps.

I unwind the wool and stretch her autochthonous extremities fully. Fetching a cover. She is cocooned in a heated blanket only to wake later to another noumenon.



HE DRAKON KHOLKIKOS (or Colchian Dragon) was an 1-IMG_2172ever-wakeful, giant serpent which guarded the golden fleece in the sacred grove of Ares at Kolkhis. When Jason and the Argonauts came to fetch the fleece, the beast was either slain by the hero or put to sleep by the witch Medea. In one version of the story, preserved only in vase painting (image right), Jason was first devoured and disgorged by the dragon.

The teeth of the dragon were harvested by King Aeetes for their magical property. One of the labours he assigned Jason was the sowing of these teeth in a field using a plough drawn by fire-breathing bulls. When they were planted, a tribe of warlike men (Spartoi) sprang fully grown from the earth. The teeth of the closely related Ismenian Drakon of Thebes, sown by Kadmos, produced a similar crop of men.

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