“Twisty Swirl” by Greg Edwards

A prophet entering the year of prophecies

a view between Heaven and Earth,
Above and Below.
Chilled, burned, abducted by prophecy,
by Gods, Demons.
What creature, fearfully aware of mortality,
prays to be the prey of fate —
prays for salvation from the other side,
accedes to forces beyond control
of flesh and mind?
What kind of sniveling, conniving coward
bends the law, the sacred trust,
covenant with all that is holy?
Cast into a class that laughs at rules,
what holds grimy chaos at bay?
(Fools at least are pure, are gay and
without malice.)
Cunning schemes are not forbidden honour,
if they carry careful depth, just weight,
that integrated code.
How much is sold? How much kept
for seed and nourishment?
This is why we invented numbers —
to have some objective measurement.
So good we become at spinning stories,
descending backward from our source,
so easy to proclaim: “Of course,
everyone knows,
obstruction is the obvious choice.”
Because our goal is not solvency,
but Salvation; not solving common sums,
but absolution from our sins —
merry though they may be.
If Greybeard in some quantum sky,
hallowed by Name,
presides o’er rewards, blessed bliss,
cries in flames of perdition,
why would such a power be amused,
indulgent Grandfather bouncing willing
child on some ectoplasmic knee,
promising eternity if baby will but
keep still?
Wouldn’t such a benevolent progenitor
expect more joyfully creative heirs, better stories

for the choices given?

Ivy dense,
tangly generations,
insulation encircling
mortared brick, aged,
for days that never can return.

Collar up against the wind and dark.
Rising smoke creates warmth illusion.
Wrapped in sanity’s delusion,
fog’s memory of mist, imagined tide.
Seated here, salt-etched wall
alone between vast sand and
murmuring waves.
No one sings.
The notes, the voices

Degree of my natal Hekate —
a liminal year for the dweller
on the threshold.
The search is for clarity,
expanding borders, introducing
elasticity as integral character.
To see, to feel, to merge and undulate
through; to discover, uncover, swim
in the glory of original grace,
ecstatic beauty.
To see, to feel, to breathe in
all exquisite luxury of prescience; to hold,
transmit as cellular energy.
To paint upon translucent canvas
subliminal etchings, private symbols
generously revealed.
Sagacity gifted, re-gifted,
planted in potent fertility
of visions, of cantations.
The tinsel of starlight;
the subtle scent of conflagrated pain;
the feather touch of eternity.
I fall into velvet voice, enchanting form.
Move with the rhythm;
caressed within word and worlds’

Cozy wise old fire djinn awhirl in sumptuous fantasies.
Grab tight to this wondrous globe of fortune;
shake for your life, your destiny.
Snow descends, rapture alive within desire’s fortress.
Light, free, prism-pure refraction —
colours collide, sparkle, glow, pleasuring eyes,
soothing, exciting

Lost in extreme streaming, radiant stars emit molten fire.
Resplendent figures morph through incandescence.
When the smoke of apocalypse clears
what consciousness remains
will lack or benefit based upon
perceptions created now.