The Slave Sleepwalking & The Swine of Babylon
His eyes were thin slits like sealed windows.
He moved stiffly like a walking stick wearing
a loin cloth. A symbol was patched on his
naked chest in the shape of a “Z,” a single
vertical line running through the letter’s
center. Wires protruded from the back of
his head and snaked down his spine.
He seemed alert, facing left and right.
He seemed correct in his direction
as he moved stridently over the
rock spangled land.
Alabaster, onyx, black and white
stones littered the gray sands of the
vast desert land. For miles around I
beheld the mountainous dunes that
slightly melted in the wind.
I wondered if the man whose eyes were
like pursed lips saw the stones of contrasting
color. I wondered if he saw the hourglass gray
sands or the plum blue sky, but he only moved
forward, a listless traveler.
I dared not breathe a word for he knew not
of my presence. I dared not think to breathe
lest I spoke of my intentions in the tear that I
now found a curious man of a curious
land. So, I simply followed his direction.
He appeared to be speaking in a constant
stream of thought for his mouth pronounced
words that went unheard for some odd reason.
I imagined the cause of his muted minstrel
was the “X” stretched across his lower face.
I wondered what he spoke, his muted
words like silent prayers, and why in speaking
they were silenced like whispered words
dispersed to air. His words were like lost
--Michael Aaron Casares is the editor of Carcinogenic Poetry and owns/operates Virgogray Press, an indie press working out of Austin, TX that specializes in poetry chapbooks and anthologies. His work has appeared in several recent online and print publications. He has authored four collections of poetry with Virgogray, New Polish Beat and Shadow Archer Press. Michael also paints; his work can be seen at the Calcasieu Gallery and other venues in San Antonio, TX.