My head spins – the audacity of coming so close to the Gods!

if that doesnt get our feet wet nothing will

take my sandals

wet feet, heads in clouds – beware the lightning!

The wax in our ears will melt, all the notes fall down.

The grime in our guts will be flushed. And we will rise, light,

only to have the hawkish words eat those guts – again!

O Prometheus, we know your plight.

Too many nights oozing with ouzo

how can we approach except with flames and offerings

chanting sungift. Someone falls fasting

gnawing gristle, talon gripped, bone in kris-beak

the stone wall cracking, peeling

And again that ouzo, promethean wax, a hand dedicating it to the fire, the too-close.

consumed we wait

an unhatched egg inside the Icarus pyre

eyes malevolently our oily sycophancy,

watching for the birth of wings and salamander immortality

sing tongue soar feet cry want only ask

fire up the band and swallow down the ash

the gods are the gods and will do as they will

not to mention who could tell if they don’t

let us cross over that pink and white pedestrian

the imago of golden helen released from her eggshell,

       striped camellia crown, gown of pearled testicle,

       smile of eleusinian knowing