Writing

Bruise Vision

Posted on 03 Jun 2017

2 paragraphs • 31 words

I

Geese Level:
Unnerving

Expect:
Anxiety

A hundred geese overhead — A thousand — A million — Heady scent of premonition. Acrid tang of ill omens. Portents. Too much meaning In too small a space.

II

Geese Level:
Noise-Cancelling Headphones

Expect:
auditory aberrations

Geese are a byproduct of laminar shear stress Of two layers of phantasmagorical Newtonian fluids, Which is why they’re often seen on a plane. A thin, sort-of Truth From a sort of thin layer geese chromatography.

III

Geese Level:
Eldrich

Expect:
red tint to vision; hot flashes

As the dove bears the olive branch, so to the goose bears the wand that withers all it touches. A wand of nightshade, Core of tainted silver. A wand of obscure origin, The goose surely stole it. Malice begets malice.

IV

Geese Level:
Beyond Comprehension

Expect:
confusion; nausea; sweating; racing pulse

We know not the transgression, the origin - We know not the punishment, only the terror.

V

Geese Level:
Excruciating

Expect:
pounding heart; tunnel vision; racing thoughts; black outs; blood pouring from ears

Geas Wing Dark Horizon

VI

Geese Level:
Terrifying

Expect:
tinnitus; piloerection; shortness of breath; uneven gait

I’d rather owls. Owls, as though geese were turned inside out, made less evil. Still portentous, Still momentous, Just less terrifying. Owls are okay. I can think about owls.

VII

Geese Level:
Uncomfortable

Expect:
subdermal itching; formication

Life within a comfortable grid. Parallel lines Interrupting narrowing circles Of birds in flight. Travel in straight lines. Turn at right angles. Trace the roof of your mouth With wet tongue. I’m not afraid of geese anymore Because I can step on them now. I’m big enough.

VIII

Geese Level:
Birds

Expect:
birds

Ritual thinking Driven by geese — By lines, by grids, by food — By numbers and neat delineation. And I’m left with questions: Why are they so portentous? Why the anxiety? Or maybe: Did I take my meds this morning? Failing that, Can I just have the comfort of prayer Or the ecstasy of signs Without the bleak paranoia Over circling birds?
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