(Voice over) Previously on Solar Disenchantment: a hamster or an acquaintance of Deija Thoris has parachuted from a bus and landed on a minigolf course, where he will attend a conference in a normal-size hotel. The unrelated first part is here.
The conference venue was virtual de luxo,
with non-removable coat hangers
and a sparkling mineral spa,
all a-bubble with sulphuretted hydrogen,
widely recommended as a curative
for common floral ailments.
After some negotiation, I chose
my bed sans breakfast in a nearby park,
where the night was redolent with fragrant frangipani.
But as fantasy would have it, I woke
to find they’d taken root inside my chest.
~/~
keynote speaker
The mix of every sound, the correlate
of all our hasty thoughts, the everyday impossible
must be believed: truth and beauty,
their unreliable synonymity,
and marvels from the past on pogo sticks
must never be forgotten.
parallel sessions with motor heart people
Apps for breakfast, Leonardos for lunch;
on the clock work coiled spring,
seamless dreamless late by night;
a spiral rib cage drilling to the subterrain,
while squads of quadrupeds
are galloping through the desert
to median castellos, to be greeted
with a frivolous indifference.
posters with Deija, the apologetic martian
Slightly fantasy, slightly arrogance,
a regretful pretense that I am not,
that I don’t devour those who
crave a dream they never dreamt.
today’s special: a coffee and a coffee $3.141
Let me tell you, repetition is the secret
of the century. Did you notice?
I’m wearing a cockatoo-beak hat.
No doubt you’re wondering what’s beneath.
… mainly parrots, lost in a feathery wilderness
of mannequins and mannerisms.
In fleeting relevance, might I quote
the fatuous frangipani?
I’d prefer you place your order, the barista said,
but I mostly coughed up petals.
~/~
A carillon peal of bells announced the closing,
and Deija, mistress of the seaside ceremony,
read out the rules:
Humans will debate the inexorable rise of chaos,
all deities must ascend to stand in for the sun,
which is under someone’s pillow,
(she glared in my direction)
and anyone who’s made of mannequins
will be scattered on the ocean:
a tribute to Iemanjá, its sovereign.
I was the unlucky one.
about
Offerings of flowers for Iemanjá, Brazilian goddess of the waters, are cast onto the sea.
artwork dreamless (part above)
… I woke
to find they’d taken root inside my chest. …
I hate it when they do that.
I suspect you are always the unlucky one, Steve, though you write ridiculously well for a man in your condition.
Did you mean to include an ‘is’?
… which under someone’s pillow, …
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Me too, yes, fortune does not smile upon me but the sun does. And super double thank you Frank, missed that.
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Somehow this piece took me to Bali, though it could have been anywhere tropical. Perhaps it’s the first couple of stanzas setting me up. Seems Deija goes around to fascinating realms! Love it, Steve.
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Thanks, Annie. It’s a bit of a mishmash. I haven’t been to Bali, and I don’t know about Deija, but I’ve been to a few conferences in other tropical locations where surreality has set in. 😃
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I hope you will get to visit Bali some day. It’s beautiful and calming. You’re most welcome, Steve.
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Beautiful lines and love the art…Given that Iemanjá, has a protector role, you will be fine 🙂
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Thanks, Sobhana. With the art, as usual, I’m trying something different, perhaps a little darker. Good to know I can trust Iemanjá, although my personal preference is not to be scattered anywhere. 😃
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Thank you for taking us along. Brings back memories.
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My pleasure, Audrey. I’m going to make what I think is a reasonable assumption that your memories relate to conferences and not to, say, sulphuretted hydrogen or cockatoo-beak hats. 😄
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You think you’re the only one who’s seen a cocmatoo-beak hat? Giggle.
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Okay, I have never seen or worn a cockatoo-beak hat, I made that up. 😃
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*cockatoo 😂
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What’s beneath my cockatoo-beak hat? Mainly parrots – ha! Always fun, (and deep too) and floral.
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Thank you for the feedback, Peter. I work on the basis that if I enjoy writing it, okey-dokey. I’m very happy with that combination.
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Beautiful piece, Steve and very musical, particularly the “parallel sessions” section…keep internalising those rhymes!
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Thanks Jim. Glad you liked the rhythm of those pounding hooves. All unplanned, so must definitely be internal, but I do notice when I read it back.
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Wow, I really love this one and it took me away to dream. So beautiful.
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Thank you, Rhapsody. I like dreams myself, and visions. We have to live in the world, but it doesn’t hurt to spend a little time in other places… I’d say it’s probably a necessity.
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I agree and I always say that it is what keeps me sane. Keep dreaming my friend. There is nothing wrong with.
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Steve, it looks like you’re getting a number of spam comments — especially this page.
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Thanks, Randy. Yeah, forty so far. If it goes on I’ll contact WP. It’s a nuisance because moderating comments I’ve found has problems, and I don’t want to have to be continually checking.
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The first chuckle was the frangipani taking root in your chest. The 2nd, coughing up petals. The 3rd, the glare in your direction (“borrowing” the sun, were we?). The cockatoo beak hat was right up there, too. I think I saw one at the royal wedding. 🙂 Quite lovely. The piece, not the hat. 🙂
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The frangipani and petal coughing doesn’t sound too bad, but I’m not sure. The sun is an idea from my childhood. When I was very young in a painting class, the teacher told me I didn’t have to put the sun in all my paintings. I remember thinking, “The sun is up in the sky so it should be there.” I was very fond of the sun.😃
No, I’ve never seen one either, and I don’t particularly want to. I really don’t get those enormous hats, in fact I pretty much don’t get fashion at all. 😃 Thanks, BG.
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Right on to be fond of the sun. What did that silly teacher know – stifling a child’s creativity – harumph. I thought Camilla’s hat looked like a surfboard landed on her head! 🙂
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Surfboard fashion, ha ha. I don’t have anything against the teacher, I mean, they were just yellow blobs, ☀️ and she did teach me something, so all good. 😃
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hahahaha oh my gosh how I enjoyed the opening voice over paragraph.
And, as usual, the whole thing just kind of oscillates between gold and platinum.
Coughing up petals was such a funnily poignant moment. You are rather brilliant at that!
You are, without a doubt, one of my favourite writers, ever.
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I am totally flattered, not to mention embarrassed, Vanessa. TBH, I don’t know how to handle praise, I just change the subject. My goodness, the nights have been dark, haven’t they? And what about those days?
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haha why yes, Steve, very dark, and we finally had much needed rain with some awesome thunder.
As for those days, been a gorgeous autumn here 😁
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As sulphuretted hydrogen is a curative for floral ailments, perhaps it could rid you of the fragrant fragipani inside your chest?
A little greedy to keep the sun under your pillow, no? 😉
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I think it’s possible, you know, if you actually wanted to get rid of the frangipani, but there might be side-effects. I did some work with hydrogen cyanide once. It’s highly toxic, but hydrogen sulphide (rotten egg gas) is almost as deadly. The key difference is just that hydrogen sulphide has a strong smell but hydrogen cyanide is almost odourless (an almond smell).
With the sun, yes, probably. Maybe a hot water bottle would be okay. 😃
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