Venusian Clouds

By Marlene Seven Bremner


We thought it was to be sunny
so we clothed ourselves as street kings
hatted crowns and glittering eyes
poetry and antimony tea
funny with the flavor
of mulberries.

As the clouds rolled in
we rolled down our sleeves,
and the troop of bicycling chanters
buzzed away from the church of triangles;
we took our blue chariot out
upon the wind-chopped streets
and descended Capitol Hill.

I spotted a one-man caravan
with a mountain of faded colors – the one
who asks for change but keeps walking –
his eyes were brightly forward
floating over pomegranates
the man, a simple body,
while the spirit gently soared.

And the pirate
on his broken metal ship
tumbling toward ecstatic wreckage
or some forgotten treasure,
the gold that only streets          
can rightly make.

We left the deep sea creatures
to their daily tasks,
rose to our kingdom of symbols,
tigers and typewriters,
scent of damar, and
flowers rotting on poem scraps,
and turned on all the lights.

You left then, went to the office
where they ask all the questions,
to fill out the forms
that the questioners require; I stayed,
there in our kingdom, where too many
wintered moons we slept in the sky
pressed between worlds
of creation and madness
out of place and out of light,
with pressure great upon us
and the shaking sounds
from down below, disembodied
voices dancing madly
on fumes of aerosol. 

Here in this place
we’ve been changing;
inside these eggshell walls
the world becomes one.

I sat, down upon the floor,
and faded into desires
like veiled bouquets bursting
pulling me to high mountain prairies
sunlit and flittering orgone,
all at once so full
of longing for the hills.

Desire, and nothing more,
for how could I miss
what so readily exists
within my very eyes?

I spread into a glade of gold,
became and created Nature
within myself, watched over
by peacocks
in the valley of transformation,
basking in the light
of the morning star
and these other beauties
of the heart.

Realigning, and upward,
I flew into limitless clouds,
with wings a’fluttering rhythm
and infinite I knew myself to be
for in this breath
the truth resides eternal –
every bird that ever sang,
every Master ever here walked graceful
knew this to be true –
and to it, this moment,
devoted themselves unreservedly.

This is bigger than nuclear. Bigger
than daughters mothering mothers.
So many deaths required
to reach the mountain top,
so many clinging spindles slipping away,
back into the dream
from which they never woke,
and all those dragons
fading back
into nothing but clouds.

I caught myself in the sky,
said, ‘what of this mind
running so wild?’

Steadied the helm again
as pillar stately rose,
piercing the vault
with silent revery.