Bewilderhof – 20

January 29, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 20

Chapter 20
– conjuring sparks for the

he pulled a lung full of hay stung air in and held it until
he started to see tracer fire
at the perimeters of his eyes
it was a game he played
as a boy
– a taste of walking
to the edge of one world without falling into another

though, he had come
close enough at times
that he caught a glimpse
of his other
his twin
yet not completely
a bit more
serrated in demeanor
with, from what
little he could tell,
a touch additional flash
in the pupils

DDr arrived at the package
and engaged the shadow
hawk in a silent showdown
she: regal patient
he: neither

after some minutes
(with agreement met)
he departed
when he departed
moved along the ground
like quicksilver
separating and coalescing
with each undulation
of landscape

different fireworks
graced the edges
of Bewilderhofs eyes now

as the ruby
put the package
in her handbag
took in the morning sun
and transformed
for a visit to the city

(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead


Bewilderhof – 19

January 27, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 19

Chapter 19
– azure’dly, needed

morning came

about 470
nanometers on
the scale

barrow bag of feed
slow pensive haul to the coop
rural route
truck unnoticed
at the end of the drive
no letters
just a small package
set near the boxpost

with an
Official BSA
opened the sack to a
cacophony of cackle
for a broadcast of grain

sloth watched her as she watched Bewildehof from
the kitchen door,
wondering what exactly
grafted the two

the ruby seemed to intuit the question and said
“you can
consider me
a confederacy
of votives –
come together to
the lower edges
of a persistent bereavement,
one that has
hovered above
this ones trail
from a time when he was in
shorter pants clearer of eye,
eyes that seemed
to thieve a particular
from the sky
as they searched for
the source of shadow”

her attention moved
from the man tending hens to
the box by the post
“in my way I am
offering, perhaps,
the slightest edge
over a most artistic
of stealth”

the hawk flew by
but his shadow stopped
to light
on the box
it’s form draping the
edges as it hopped
from end to end –
head cocked inquisitively

the house seemed to shudder
as she opened the door

“something to convey
a mind into menace
I would think,
it is best I should
see to retrieving it before
our chicken rustler
takes notice”

(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 18

January 25, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 18

Chapter 18
– 8mm mindjump

he was between
dimensions again
it happened
something innocuous
rewound the film,
a session of
and when it happened
he felt as though
he was
looking for a pearl
among the
of a strange

a re-screened evening
of a kid in a vest
made almost entirely
of pockets
sitting on a porch

steps from
the kitchen door
hens head to
roost cats

rabidity with help from
a toad -unaware-

night music
cued by
a screech from the eulenloc
a barn owl beginning
nocturnal hunt

here, 50 years removed,
pearls had become
a rarity in the
dust of present August
small stones though
– a plenty
and just as he
was settling
back in
what may or may not
have been
the proper decade

he grew
by the mass
of one –
kicked loose from the drive
and added
to his collection
as he reached
the barrow handles

(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 17

January 23, 2015 § 1 Comment

Bewilderhof – 17

Chapter 17
– always in the kitchen
at parties

in the bubble
of the kitchen
at the table
halfway through a meal
with white noise as
ambient accompaniment
Double Dutchess
set her glass aside and, gesturing to their surroundings, says

eye meets eye

“…dear timid sloth…”
hands go to lap

“…is, as is, with any force that strategizes campaigns
for emotion,
elaborate projection”

sloth, a
fork stalling full mouthed
bug-eyed vision of disarray asked/proclaimed:
“having been told that something is a
certain thing
for so long makes it true
on some tangible level –
if not, why have so many had beliefs branded into their flesh as infants? have had it injected into their spindervish selves by strychnine filled fangs –
have been half
drowned in waters of baptismal basins
to it?
myself have suckled on it
filled my lungs with it
I have drank it

“willingly, you say?”
the ruby smiled
“a motion raised
in argument using
dimorphic expression,
rarely worth the energy
but endlessly
disintegrates without
much delay into
failure of language
becoming little
more than
a pun inappropriate –
the descendants of both
halves of any original debate
go forth and multiply
like oversexed lemmings,
I’m less than impressed
by all of it
of course
but, they do make
a most
determined set of
viral armies,
if nothing else”

sloth swallowed
napkined chin and
leaned back in his chair

light from under door jambs
strobed slowly – rising and falling in intensity
as if following the rate of breath of a grizzly in hibernation

but where these two sat
at a table in a nineteenth century kitchen
with wood fired stove
& chipped chinaware
there was no pulse
other than their own

one considerably
faster than the other

(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 16

January 20, 2015 § Leave a comment

Bewilderhof – 16

Chapter 16
– box is

he despised the times
a Ludditial gray ancient
always loath to introduce himself to modernity

the magistrate let
the bottle breath,
his ringed fingers rotated
the ornate ossuary to
address its occupant

“here you lay
dove felled
by hawk and
will continue to
hawk on that one thing
that by
any name,
comes from
cirri –
winning ice
standing before the
comics idiom to
jaw wildly and butterfly
against buffering wind
craftier for benefit
of invention
having died on
from frustration
from boredom
into my own struggle
to breach the citadel
proud to be
to any outcome
honored to mock incidence ”

he turned the tomb slowly
To follow its inlaid narrative
a Babylonian battle played out in precious stone
and abalone

“with wine
for my head, it is clear
I’ve cued this office
from this same city
for a generation
you are well
to rest in this

as it seems
of all that can be said
of your
devotion to
the idea of entering –
it is of that alone which
has ended you”

a thumb followed the contours
of horseback warmongers
“even then
archers and swordsmen
the branch is such a long time
missing –
pilfered from your beak
by those
of my particular
… ilk”

he closed the lid
and placed it into
a cardboard box

once sealed he set
it outside
his office door
and reached for a gold phone

‘mailroom’ he said aloud
‘extension 219’

(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 15

January 19, 2015 § 1 Comment

Bewilderhof – 15

Chapter 15
– confluence

from some
where within a deep somewhere
steady 48 degrees
a flow
a constant a mother
to miniature columns
of mist that,
in rising,
bathed moss and birch
lichen and mushroom

the water eased back
the throttle of his mind
the water set

down the unlit path
thud of shutters
click of latch as

Double Duchess
her compact
and suggested
a spot
of dinner

she offered to lead
sloth to the house
each step toward the pale
silhouette twisted the screw
of fear deeper into his gut

stood by the spring
to their voices being
absorbed into the soundtrack
of the woods
a farewell chorus of cricket
and frog nearly thunderous

the crescent above
seemed to change hue
as the unlikely couple
reached the stairs

subsonic ripples reached
out and nudged fugitive awake
from the loft window he watched
them pass from dark of yard into pulsating glow of the entrance

inhaling deep as
the house seemed to shift
ever so slightly
on whatever dimensional
axis it traveled on

the choir below
and beyond
reached a crescendo

in a tower
above a street
in the city

a dead bird lay in
a lacquered box
on the mahogany desk
of a man consulting ledgers

(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

Bewilderhof – 14

January 17, 2015 § 1 Comment

Bewilderhof – 14

Chapter 14
– reflex ions

in a new reflex
he picked up a stone and
turned it in his hand
as he walked

‘drop it
into pocket’
a new reflex

he left his boots where he slept by the tree and wandered grounded
(picking up needed charge)
beyond the shed

sloth watched as he passed

Pleiadean fireflies

the night sky was some immense equation
that Bewilderhofs
mind rendered as abstract

walking with minimal reason
other than to awaken
down a path
that needed no illumination
other than memory
he came to a spring

from a cup that
was kept
on a nail in an oak
he drank like a man
who had survived
a desert

back at the window
drank like a man
entering one

in the corner
light coalesced
into a slight woman
checking her reflection
in a mirrored compact

(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead

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