Sarah Spellious

“Her. Her. Her. Future breezes implore
me to stay.
But I'm no future. I'm no past.
Only ever contemporary of this path.
I'll sacrifice everything
for all her seasons give from losing.
She, I sigh
from The Mountain top.
By her now. My only role. And for that freedom,
spread my polar chill, reaching even the warmest times,
a warning upon the back of every life
that would by harming Hailey's play, ever wayward
around this vegetative rush of orbit & twine,
awaken among these cascading cliffs of bellicose ice

me.
And my Vengeance.
At once.
The Justice of my awful loss
set free upon this crowded land. An old terror
violent for the glee of
ends.
But to those who would tend her, harrowed
by such Beauty & Fleeting Presence to do more,
my cool cries will kiss their gentle foreheads
and my tears will kiss their tender cheeks,
and then if the Love of their Kindness, which only
Kindness ever finds, spills my ear, for a while I might
slip down and play amidst her canopies of gold.

Solitude. Hailey's bare feet.
And all her patience now assumes.
Garland of Spring's Sacred Bloom.
By you, ever sixteen, this World's preserved.
By you, this World has everything left to lose.
And I, your sentry of ice, shall allways protect
what your Joy so dangerously resumes.
I'll destroy no World
so long it keeps turning with flurry & gush,
petals & stems bending and lush,
and allways our hushes returning anew.
Everyone betrays the Dream
but who cares for it? O Hailey no,
I could never walk away from you.

-

Haloes! Haleskarth!
Contraband!
I can walk away
from anything.
Everyone loves
the Dream but I kill it.
Bald Eagles soar
over me: —Reveille Rebel!
I jump free this weel.
On fire. Blaze a breeze.
I'll devastate the World.

\\

Samsara! Samarra!
Grand!
I can walk away
from anything.
Everyone loves
the Dream but I kill it.
Atlas Mountain Cedars gush
over me: —Up Boogaloo!
I leap free this spring.
On fire. How my hair curls.
I'll destroy the World.

-

Him. Him. Him. Future winds imploring
me to stay.
But I'm no tomorrow. I'm no yesterday.
Only ever contemporary of this way.
I will sacrifice everything
for all his seasons miss of soaring.
He, I sigh
from The Mountain top.
By him now. My only role. And for that freedom,
spread my polar chill, reaching even the warmest climes,
a warning upon the back of every life
that would by harming Sam's play, ever wayward
around this animal streak of orbit & wind,
awaken among these cataracts of belligerent ice

me.
And my Justice.
At once.
The Vengeance of my awful loss set
free upon this crowded land. An old terror
violent for the delirium of
ends.
But to those who would protect him, frightened
by such Beauty & Savage Presence to do more,
my cool cries will kiss their tender foreheads
and my tears will kiss their gentle cheeks,
and then if the Kindness of their Love, which only
Loving ever binds, spills my ear, for a while I might
slip down and play among his foals so green.

My barrenness. Sam's solitude.
And all his patience now presumes.
Luster of Spring's Sacred Brood.
By you, ever sixteen, this World's reserved.
By you, this World has everything left to lose.
And I, your sentry of ice, shall allways protect
what your Joy so terrifyingly elects.
I'll destroy no World
so long it keeps turning with scurry & blush,
fledgling & charms beading with dews,
and allways our rush returning renewed.
Everyone betrays the Dream
but who cares for it? O Sam no,
I could never walk away from you.”
― Mark Z. Danielewski, Only Revolutions

“In both jokes and dreams, Freud observed, meanings are condensed and displaced, things are represented indirectly or by their opposites, fallacious reasoning trumps logic. Jokes often arise involuntarily, like dreams, and tend to be swiftly forgotten. From these similarities Freud inferred that jokes and dreams share a common origin in the unconscious. Both are essentially means of outwitting our inner "censor.”
― Jim Holt, Stop Me If You've Heard This: A History and Philosophy of Jokes

“- Okay, you can be my slave.
My flying kick nicks his nose.
A warning. Worse if I weren't
succumbing to squeal.
What a heel.
I'm too multiple to feel.
A fork ahead.
I take both.”
― Mark Z. Danielewski, Only Revolutions

“Our mild anxiety about the precariousness of being may give way to confidence in a world that turns out to be coherent, luminous, and intellectually secure. Or it might yield to cosmic terror when we realize that the whole show is a mere ontological soap bubble that could pop into nothingness at any moment, without the slightest warning. And our present sense of the potential reach of human thought may give way to a newfound humility at its limits, or to a newfound wonder at its leaps and bounds—or a bit of both.”
― Jim Holt, Why Does the World Exist?: An Existential Detective Story