To you, Invited One,
Step inside a whirl of wind, breath, stories
Of stories inside stories.
We have been expecting you.
What time is it?
The between time, twilight time, the least occupied time
As the moon arcs across the sky and the gleaming starts.
The first breath is a Prologue.
Find the booth
And we will tell you who we are.
Suspended between the mundane and the miraculous
We are a constellation of organs and entities,
Human plant spirit machine
A writing hand, a wandering womb, a listening ear
An exhaled breath.
Now, accompany us
We will travel with the winds,
Step over to the bed, it is there for you to lie on, close your eyes.
You are on Signal Hill, looking down upon….
No, we are done with looking down there
We are exhausted by those gardens, those Company gardens
That Lodge, that dormitory of despair
That Company Lodge.
Look, rather, out across the Bay
No…. not there either,
we have had enough of sailing ships.
Turn your nose north
Let us smell a place from faraway…..