[x], Elytron Frass 日 31/10/2023 · admin No comments

extracts from DEAR§


we’re kept at arm’s length because that shared rib makes the rush a dance on the asphalt that hammers out our one-two sudden stop

we’re kept at arm’s length because a new heaven and new earth gives us too much to fight about

we’re kept at arm’s length because what other measurement is warranted but the stretch of brushing fingertips against the static of overheard fluorescence, the late-nite cadence of all-you-cans (when you can’t and no one ever has before us), our meetings accidental but never less than exquisite, our familiars etched in glassdust because we’ve no right to speak like this, our dialect more comfortable with us than we are with it and we’re kept at arm’s length because scripture demands it along with the streetlight solemnity that’s held every time we spill out of illicit clubs, our sweat immaculate and reeking of blood, tap water baptismals and sometimes I think every motel room sinks down to the cellular, every one of them, dendrochronological records under no vacancy eye sockets, I think each room is still with us, prisons all of them and us in them, those delicate baggies turned inside out to retrieve the very last of paradise or at least our closest approximation of it, no we won’t have the real presence there, not on any of those execution grounds

we’re kept at arm’s length because we’re close enough to count

Elytron Frass 日 02/07/2019 · admin No comments


It was in late February when Kouros lost his herd. The cacophony’s atonality spread into, from parts unknown, the ripe green fields, the blue-black skies—molding airborne skulls from cloud. Kouros was reticent to hire a posse of Ganas or groups of iridescent ghosts because he knew that Ganas’ demands for pay would be much higher than his strapper’s price and knew, also, that the iridescent ghosts were simply unreliable with following complex instructions. He needed to employ a gang of minions who were foolish enough to commit to solving a potentially impossible mystery yet modest enough to work towards earning a small and single reward. He briefly thought on the possibility of importing Indian Rakshasas. Rakshasas had the nose for investigative work, but their vampiric thirst for blood would only lead to greater social malcontent. Kouros, beardless youth, took an elderly neighbor’s advice and waited one year’s cycle. The renewing stench of spring and green and blooming flesh would bring the ones whom he was seeking. This whole time waiting he’d imagined valiant centaurs, shimmering chimeras, and other figures indescribable in words responding to his open call. Yet, when Spring had come to pass, he nearly lost faith in mythical creatures.

In fact, it wasn’t until Summer that the fields were overgrown in the absence of livestock. And in this time of chlorophyllous impunity he’d become acquainted with a choral troupe of satyrs.

With no goats to bugger or wings to tear off from the backs of fowl, the satyrs turned to the field’s new inheritors for entertainment. Firstly, they were merely fascinated by the plant and vermin life, but, soon enough, when they’d made an adequate number of observations, they reacted with parodic reflexes. Some writhed on their hairy bellies in the dirt with the snakes and worms or rolled up dung in accordance with the dung beetles or squeaked in unison with rats and field mice. They observed each specific job of every single species they’d encountered, and, in unison, they sung a jeering song about the limitations of the spineless and the non-mammalian: pointing out the many maladaptations that present with having strange and ornate bodies serving clear-cut functions. They poked at those Darwinian specifications that most higher lifeforms deem “below,” and which over countless generations such lowly organisms cornered themselves into. Kouros was taken by the juvenile yet clever spectacle of it.

He surmised that satyroi might be intelligent enough to follow his directions if promised a reward. Keeping their buffoonish tendencies in mind, he named each satyr after organismic mimeses founded, recorded, and coined by repudiated -ologists of various disciplines: Fritz Müller, Erich Wasmann, Henry Walter Bates, Michael Emsley and Robert Mertens, et al. were to be represented by a corresponding satyr.