Thursday, April 22, 2010

Cargo Cult

Nigredo (Putrefactio)
I tell you there's no such thing as a flying saucer
crewed by aliens. I've seen aliens.
They travel in curious copper vessels
with crooked necks. Not saucers.

What did they look like? That's hard to say.
They tended to... disperse... and then rejoin
solve et coagula. Like slime-molds, actually.
And then you couldn't be sure if you were talking
to the same one, or a new individual
with the same memories. I guess they live forever.

They crawl through twisting glass pipes
inside their ships. There's always water dripping.
I guess they're from some place more humid—
maybe Venus? They wouldn't say.
To them our whole planet's a desert.
They come here to meditate like stylites
in the thin dry air. It clears their minds, they say
though they have to be careful about dehydration.

And apparently their ships run
entirely off sunlight! Or some kind of
radiant power—I wasn't completely clear—
anyway the engines are brilliant, dazzling.
Brighter than a thousand torches.
Gold. They talked about gold
and about turning metals into other metals
but I don't know how, exactly.

I watched the ship take off. Maybe
I was standing too close? I feel kind of flushed.
They said they'd come back. I swear.
They said they'd come—if I wanted to go—
they'd take me along. Into the light.
No, I'm not feverish or babbling—
I'm just a little hot—
I'll see the universe. I'll live forever. Get me
a copper pot... it has to be the right shape...
some coiled glass tubes...
I'm gone.
Collection available! Knocking from Inside

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