The astrologer visits

At the court of the prince.

Pain emerges, the dream gushes forth into seas of the soul turned inside out and, unfortunately, upside down.

Mars in retrograde doesn’t explain the strings of pain in my stomach.

But the arid yet formidable winds of Saturn, and the inverted faces of Mars and Venus — you’ve almost convinced me that’s what i feel when i feel the phase suddenly shifts, the gear, the color of the water around us changes.


Ancient sophistication lost to the Occident by accidents of … disembodiment? By a refusal of pleasure?


Can we reconstitute the pleasure of living deeply, with all cosmic strings attached, within permutations of iridescent stories?


I just keep seeing the sea, the sea, and the warm sea. I saw it before you arrived. Is it because you grew up there?


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