Geotraumas

Birdstorms and similar phenomena became known as geotraumas, closing airports and pedestrian zones and certain zip codes of consciousness. Avian clouds spirited through vast swathes of sky, heaving and shifting in dark amoebas, their screams razoring the heavens. The casualties included those blasted in shit like plaster sculptures, bilewhite figures dazed on park benches or pleading to the invisible. More serious were those who suffered damage to their inner ear mechanisms, hammer and anvils stinging for weeks with the bellicose frequencies of the giant sound organism. Most troubling were the rumors of those found defleshed and scattered in tangles of bone and hair, the meat of their skeletons picked clean as porcelain.

Black Wind Channels

Children crowded their gardens to watch dragonflies with television eyes through all the black wind channels of the night. The sky suffered with bees, the soft projects of their bodies able to break the clavicle. The gothic song of the spirit is full of insects, we have seen them with eyes of the Bible, mysterious continents crawling on the floors of houses. Any hole in the body was the entrance for pioneers who wanted to make their way to nest in nasal passages or other organ cathedrals where they played our lung violins like whirlwinds of sickness. Corpses formed in the brains of unbelievers.

Made of Clay

Small gods were constructed of spittle and bullets and glue, etceteras and etceteras and etceteras in their eyes. In church they practiced dark mathematics, Christ on the wall with its lips stitched shut. Of bloodsong and hunger was this world born, said the oracle. Each psalm of breath, cinema of stars. The folkmasses built the hills and valleys and harbors of the night. Stark swells. We are made of clay and breath and wonder. We are made of memory. We are zero eyed and delirious and handcuffed to the night.

5 Comments

  1. Robert Vaughan

    Hi Ryan, this is my kind of wackado. Yeah, the end is near, but in a very scientific and particular manner. Love your word selections- geotraumas, bilewhite, organ cathedrals, lung violins, stark swells. You build this incredible diaspora that is GOING DOWN. Until it is “Made of Clay.” (gah! How I LOVE THAT!) And this:

    ‘In church they practiced dark mathematics, Christ on the wall with its lips stitched shut.’ And also those last three lovely poetic sentences, all beginning with ‘We are’… such brilliance in our undoing. Thanks for this.

  2. Benjamin Niespodziany

    These are fantastic! What a triptych. “dragonflies with television eyes” rules. “cinema of stars” and “vast swathes of sky” – it all works really well here. “Made of Clay” is a favorite of the three here, but they all feel properly in conversation with each other.

  3. Koss Just Koss

    So many urgent descriptions make up the wonderful whole of this:
    – their screams razoring the heavens
    – casualties included those blasted in shit
    – sky suffered with bees

    A small suggestion–play with the articles for variety and try eliminating some of them. “The” while declaring importance, becomes less so in repetition, and you might find power in doing without. This is an imagist thing, but sometimes it really improves writing . . .

    Nice work!

  4. Meg Tuite

    RYAN! I’m a fan! The entire creates its amped up destruction and decay. Some especially exquisite lines:
    “Avian clouds spirited through vast swathes of sky, heaving and shifting in dark amoebas, their screams razoring the heavens.”
    “bilewhite figures dazed on park benches or pleading to the invisible.”
    ” Most troubling were the rumors of those found defleshed and scattered in tangles of bone and hair, the meat of their skeletons”
    suggest: picked clean as porcelain’ reads too overdone for your beauties
    “watch dragonflies with television eyes”
    “sky suffered with bees’
    ” The gothic song of the spirit is full of insects,”
    AND ALL OF IT! i do agree with Koss to get rid of the articles and see how it reads! DEEP WATERS! LOVE!

  5. Len Kuntz

    Hi Ryan.

    This is so beautiful. It’s wise and poignant and observant and reflective. It felt like a lament, yet laced with yearning and hopefulness.Those last three lines are heartstoppers. It’s incredible what you’ve done here, and I’ll be coming back to it again and again.

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