Aleister GUISINGER

In the crystal ball
It was like midsummer tarmac waves
When King Louis the XIV, the last solar lord ruling,
Had seen Cortés gazing intently
Into snails bubbling in salt.
And then the devotion of a servant:

The devil: he comes to us on radiopaque skis.
I'm telling you how great jokes are,
Things that produce laughter;
One minute, life stinks as bad as caspia water in a failing florist
And the next, life is wonderful
With the exciting elements of discovering
Joys of the past. Shhhheeeeite!

The devil pulls his orange beanie off
Then lights a joint saying
There is an unchartered production
Prepared for you luckies this evening...:
The limit to knowing truly is
A coconut with a straw
Where the kosmodrom/cosmotron hum from the jungle inspires
And your fingers stray
To your own nipples of fire.

Do not search for the magical
In these magical days upon us
Because love is a full-time job
And grasping isn't and is exhausted.

We reflect him by saying
We are burning a red popsicle for him
On the dancer's stove,
The one who keeps her money in an English boot.
The one who remembers being a child
Watching the supertheatre film of
Astronauts on Mir,
And now she wants to go back home.

There is an endless supply of her stuff in the marshes
Beyond new factories that crush the amethysts
For satan's skyboards.
He raises his arms and says to the heavens intently: Listen!
The plants in the spacestations
Are sentient too, besides:
Faust is burning on a cross
For his star-means in the field tonight

And the gate to the marshes opens
To the Mayan dancer's retinal scan yeah,
Dark lordessss in the sky
Rubbing herself down, down, down
With a piece of coal from the Albion-lines

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