aristilde kirby - bwr

8 Black Warrior Review

Aristilde Kirby

Artist’s Statement

The essence of this work as a whole is Lettrisme as a whole, but specifically Isidore Isou’s “Sonnet Infinitésimal No.3” (1958). Lettrisme offered me dramatically new ways of envisioning the word alongside concrete & sound poetry, but the SI, for short, was exemplar of Isou’s idea of Art infinitésimal, that couldn’t really made (?), but gives aesthetic revelations in contemplation of its depths. When I first glanced it, years ago, it was really interesting. There was something enticing about the form that made me want to decode it. I saved the image, but I went no further with it, until last year, where it kept catching my eye. I saw the section sign, AKA the silcrow or the scillicet (Latin for it is permitted to know) & noticed it reminded me of the hilt of a sword: the guard, grip & pommel, looking at it from the very front, as if the blade was pointed at you. That set my mind to work—I looked up what the symbol was used for, learned its names. Later that year, I had a conversation with Avren Keating about the nature of translation, what it meant to me, in a tweet thread beginning with a post I had made with an image of Isou’s SI, & by the end of it, I knew I had my skeleton key to a rosetta stone, it was permitted to know. All I had to do was stab, twist, & release the bolt. I saw that if one inverted the bottom ‘s’ & overlapped it over the first, it’d form 8, the shape of the Moebius strip. It was then I saw the locus of Isou’s technique, the mot juste on an atomic level, symbolism in its primacy. The SI wasn’t made to be “understood,” as this sentence makes itself out to be, but it was made to be a motherboard for poetic permutation. Using translation as a means to make said transmutation happen, here’s a line by line translation of all of the sonnet’s 14 in varying degrees. The translations only happen on the poems to the left most side, the right poems past the map of the SI herein are supplements to the story & characters, making 28 total poems. Those 14 poems on the left are the land that makes the map legendary, for me. This is my metagraphie supertemporelle. I use my skillset as best as

9

I could at the time, & this is just one chapbook in a planned set of 13 more works. One of which I’m very fortunate, lucky, to present to you now—shout out BWR. The next is “Sonnet Infinitésimal n°3 / Everything Is Beautiful n°11”. For more in-depth craft notes in regards to method, & divulgences on a social / poetic / personal scale please read L’EYENDA / EMENDER on the BWR website when it comes out! To the debridal of the world as we know it for the regeneration of the world as we need it. [‘cause we are living in a material world / & I am a material girl]

bl

ac

k w

ar

rio

r r

ev

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ch

ap

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4

4.1

11

A bouquet of everlasting hydrangeas for the following: Kay Gabriel, Stephen Ira, Liam

O’Brien, & Rylee Lyman of Les Vetchiennes - Rachel Levitsky & Ana Paula Simões,

the Belladonnas—an. cinquepalmi, Frida Palacios, Thel Seraphim, Avren Keating,

Brooke Larson, Kris Leggett, James Pascua, Stephanie Mathis, Sylvia Thach, Hue

Nguyen, Megan Smith, & Renee Carter - all of whom are my friends.

& for everyone like me I wish a world void of murder, marginalization

& suffering.

\- - *~à~* - - /

_

~ _

· = = = ∴ = = = ‘

- ◌ , , , , , , , ◌ -

ᶨ ; *のの; ɔ ᶨ

. ∵ �

∵ .

~j o y e u x~

{l’ette-risa-hime}


for lil’ wander,

heiress of stillness

The black unicorn was mistaken

for a shadow or symbol

and taken

through a cold country

where mist painted mockeries

of my fury.

It is not on her lap where the horn rests

but deep in her moonpit

growing.

—from audre lorde | the black unicorn

Young unicorns snatched

from the impossible skies

precious horns, ordinary chainsaws

In a dead infection a desk drawer

full of blurry sunflowers

Under your bare feet

are only symptomatic

of the monster i have become

—from pig destroyer | pixie

There’s something wrong with me

That’s why I wrote this note

I’ve joined the writers

who believe they have the antidote

13Kirby

{You picked up Dimension Dagger � Voyeureuse �!▽}

{You looked into its lustrous glare . . . ▽}

{whose look pierces back through into you. ▽}

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[hyper-lyrical chronicle of dot-matrix split & helix slasher]

[Helianthus decapetalus x Ipomoea alba ‘Moonflower’]

[Translated sonnet infinitésimal, 2017]

this work is based off of Isidore Isou’s “Sonnet infinitésimal n°3” (1958)

/

Beheaded Aparajita / Obelism Éclisser

Cherry Croissant / Paradi 0

Dog of Diana / la Dyadeinesse

Harmony, Finally / Sing, Paraselene

Wishboned Qualia / Tuning Fucked

Letters to Cicatrix / Bleed Dirac Sea#

Silver Bullet / Gunmetal Grayed

Iron Resolver / Céline Reloaded

la Vertigonisse / Rift Paradis

Paradise Rind / Sundae Bell

Cnidarietta / Pomegranate

Paradie I / Paradies II

Divorce / Lunairetic

Prominence / Debridal

/

| A

| C

| T

| I

| AA

| CC

| TT

| II

| AAA

| CCC

| TTT

| III

| ACTIVE

| FINALE

I:

II:

III:

IV:

V:

VI:

VII:

VIII:

IX:

X:

XI:

XII:

XIII:

XIV:


a person caret-weight, umlaut-bit vampiric:

a black pearl fairy unto a shellac setting;

a ligature girl like a crossguard as lyric,

an epoch calyce trophy half-said begetting.

Lis Crow, Lis Crow! Grow slashedged, pyric!

Parent’s thesis for an evolution of a worm:

beheaded, my body divid to mirror aspheric;

a grand ball of extremities sperm to herme,

from mortal hurt to your you portal hearse;

The first symbol corresponds to the second,

& a Monroe stud rose in stature biodiverse:

83% being suffuse in query, hexedit fecund,

yr mutated blank-faced emote clips off map;

sits on dimension lip, bullet turned black.

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I: Beheaded Aparajita / Obelism Éclisser

Sonnet Infinitésimal

� §%§%^¨= (o) ' '' ½; /§/§/! ,;:( ' " ' ") )o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -”’-”’_/�&°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° / ./°& &! ‘-”’ _/=+) °( : ) ’”’”) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ()()(½) §%°&o

? , ; . ¨ . ’ / -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ()()(½) &%;§;

-) ¨ ^%%% §! §! §! ... ++” ’ ++?( ) §%°&o

&° ° +=+° ½ ’ ”-/ ?,?, §%°&½_/_/() &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ()½=½=;.

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

15

double-edged and too late for pastel gothic,

she’s like fuck it & donnas t.u.k creepers

with easter blue kneesocks, a bandaid lick

below her left eye a fleshtone of dniepers.

amassive maiden of street harassment, sick

& tired with ignoring every day’s familiar

ogres, with one “nice ass” she snaps quick

& here’s where some critics say her illure

led to whom bled next—that she was wrong

for daring to hid her clit, dick, whatever

excuse desired to bore their antifem prong.

She was shot. . .You don’t believe it? Never?

I wish I could talk about Lis more, dearie,

but, y’know, death eclipses all analysands.

| “Every insult I hear back

| darkens into a beauty mark”

| —Christine and the Queens | Half-Ladies

| “Are you tryin’ to put a stain

| in Bambi’s beautiful, pure body?”

|—Bambi, from Atsushi Kaneko’s Bambi and Her

| Pink Gun

| “Piero: What are you writing?

| Vittoria: I’m translating some Spanish.

| Piero: How do you say “I want to come up” in

| Spanish?

| Vittoria: You say, “You can’t”. Tough language,

| isn’t it?”

| —from Michelangelo Antonioni’s L’Eclisse

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Kirby


eating a pretzel in the shadow of a 4D sun,

+ watching you die x2 thru an oreo edgecap

from its obsidian compact, I lick with fun

my candied mirror from that black hole gap

you slipped into some one more warmer spun

eating a pastel in the shadow of a 4D slug,

a person eclipsed nonplussed by a head one.

crestfallen on planar vermillion, so shrug

the planets cast upon galaxial half & half.

a beauty mark cutlass sans a body scabbard,

what’s a slasher to do as handless epitaph?

& she’s disassociated again! un yr bastard

son, turn it back, like a capsized ship as

a half-kiss moon sunken as a smile in skin.

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II: Cherry Croissant / Paradi 0


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -”’-”’_/�&°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° / ./°& &! ’-”’ _/=+) ° �( : )’”’”) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ()()(½) §%°&o

? , ; . ¨ . ’ / -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ()()(½) &%;§;

-) ¨ ^%%% §! §! §! ... ++” ’ ++?( ) §%°&o

&° ° +=+° ½ ’ ”-/ ?,?, §%°&½_/_/() &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ()½=½=;.

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

17

“Xxxxxx Xxxxx—fatally wounded in Paradies

Black Forests yesterday morning, was found

next to a cake knife & baskets of pastries.

The prints of the deceased found outbounds

upon the handle—& with traces of pastis

mark smeared by the perpetrator in a fight

that brokeout during Hunthour—Dct. Tracy

Logan, says it’s just about damn yea right

an open & shut case—The testimonies from

the victim, who’d wished to stay anonymous,

invoked the Plant Your Ground laws. & some

have remarked that it was not an anomalous

use of the loved self-defense legislations.

More on this story, eh not really, @ 13:00.”

| “There’s been an accident

| at the house built out of sticks

| I will miss that Little Piggy. . .

| I can’t believe this. . .

| There’s been one more victim. . .

| but I don’t know his name,

| and the wolf’s got a taste for bacon,

| it’s just part of the game. . .”

| “It seems too sad to call this home /

| However, I’ve had time to think /

| about the past, and what went wrong /

| I’m running out of ink!”

| —He Is Legend | 7. The Walls Have Teeth

| | 8. Do You Think I’m Pretty?

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Kirby


gemini navel piercing scare quotes a paint

-filled chevron scar, an emblem of service.

you prism forth the patterns, mirror faint,

3 pills a day escalating her wait, nervous

eyes dilate glitch raise? Ligands stellate!

Service is a laminate that keeps to of you

display hissy traits as beheld constraints

but you eschewed for a free miss minus too,

now a polydentate formal donation, darling.

Your dead name and your daed you, forgiven.

A hyperwoman sent beyond flat 3D starlings,

you aren’t beautiful, yr a headspace riven

parhelion ichor pet acrylic along horizons

airbrushing to be cut incisoring eye teeth.

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III: Dog of Diana / la Dyadeinesse


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-”’_/=+)° �(:) ’ ” ’ ” ) ) o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+�

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ()()(½) §%°&o

? , ; . ¨ . ’ / -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ()()(½) &%;§;

-) ¨ ^%%% §! §! §! ... ++” ’ ++?( ) §%°&o

&° ° +=+° ½ ’ ”-/ ?,?, §%°&½_/_/() &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ()½=½=;.

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ̈ §§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ̈ ̂ ̈ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ̈ ^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

19Black Warrior Review

When news breaks. . .you never see she lived,

just that she died. Lis enjoyed croissants

cherry jellie stuffed, scented marker nibs,

warm sand. She really kinda hates her aunt.

Her speech styled on the sides of the glib.

She loved the moon, as well as anyone else.

& more so when she took 3 pills, & strived

to be at her heals & to long like sunbelts,

or a misty greyhound in midsts of a sprint.

At her Leahs, a meadow of the body even as

her navelearth yawns, binds & then encysts

her comatose being—Her sac sheds its has,

& signed her metaplastic spirit & minotaur

piercings she received & cleaned last week.

| “Now I lay me down to sleep /

| I pray the lord my soul to keep /

| And if I die before I wake, /

| That’s just my luck, that’s just my luck. /

| They never told me they were going to /

| put me away / I am not insane. / I am not /

| crazy. / I made a magic wand today, maybe /

| I’ll wish myself away, / next to the ocean

| where birds sing, / these are a / few of my /

| favorite / things.”

|

| —He Is Legend

| 8. Do You Think I Am Pretty?

| “Whosoever is a wolf to man

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Kirby


You didn’t like a universe who’d done this

to we, so together, I take cleave of every

now departed mean with a silver halo gliss.

At half-power, Lis tears a page in reverie

from the spine of life with an antikinesis

that killed you too across fifty timelines!

Logical conclusion of antimaterialism hiss?

& the mind as a uniquely awry mental place?

If you don’t think you can make a space in

the world for yourself, then you won’t. If

people kill you in trying, a more linchpin

you’ll be. You look to the mirror so stiff

& see nothing vanished as a hid hieroglyph.

I understood, and was beheaded for my fear

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IV: Harmony, Finally / Sing, Paraselene


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

�-)=-=-=½;§!¨&%%%%%?&?()()(½)§%°&o�

? , ; . ¨ . ’ / -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ()()(½) &%;§;

-) ¨ ^%%% §! §! §! ... ++” ’ ++?( ) §%°&o

&° ° +=+° ½ ’ ”-/ ?,?, §%°&½_/_/() &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ()½=½=;.

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

21

The teeth of her skies opened wides to eat

itself—& yr world vanishes as shellfires

fade in an armistice—no traces, but heat

of buried casings—a case closed by liars

who had doctored a red helix on their beat

to a scene sliced with her cake knife upon

the cutting room floors along my metasuite

behind space’s dimensional doors, evermore.

In Lis’ blind spots, she was ready to sing

like a canary at this, ab-avoided, reality

no-one humored. Paraselene sees everything.

Two beings of light converse, & latchkeyed

via shared verges & a mutual space between.

Now a rosy fingered pawn moves a grayqueen.

| is a wolf, not a man.”

|—from Bertolt Brecht’s

| Is Communism Exclusive?

| “It’s just you and me /

| The execution of all things”

| —from Rilo Kiley

| The Execution of All Things

| “There’s a monster in my room /

| Well, he got hungry / licked his lips,

| he shook my hand / and tried to eat me /

| And it’s getting on my nerves /

| I’m trying / hard not to meet you when I am

| sleeping.

| (Still I don’t know how to kill you. . .)

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Kirby


& bodied for yr courage, merged amalgamate.

Gotta skirt death to live forever, I guess?

To be buried in black is a worms best fate,

a fasciated wink, caterpillaring eyelashes.

To be a head who a knows—how to regenerate

from a piece of self is a hilt who clashes

against a shielded negative quoting phrase

that shocks, like some uncoated cut cables.

A metal tuning fork broke a noisome melody.

I am the lone daughter of a manufracturing.

I give off-light, not because I am ecstasy,

but a heresy against ideas of sky coloring.

They want me blue & bruised to this—yet,

in the twilight palettes her precious mean.

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V: Wishboned Alchemy / Tuning Fucked


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

�?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;�

-) ¨ ^%%% §! §! §! ... ++” ’ ++?( ) §%°&o

&° ° +=+° ½ ’ ”-/ ?,?, §%°&½_/_/() &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ()½=½=;.

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

23

When her tuning is off, she turns the keys

on her axe to her desired tones, naturally.

Must she, again, shred deathmetal reprise?

Well, do kill the murderers & then call me,

maybe? I was born nine years afore release

of Decapitated’s best—Winds of Creation,

on April 11th. I consider it my time piece,

it’s in my blood—a parfait illustration

of my logos for our indecipherable futures.

& yet my watch is as faceless as my wrists,

& I won’t tell a time tearing into sutures.

& all I ever desired was to carve gorgeous

this acephalous sentence of a sad universe,

which says we’ve no life to live or thrive.

| Yet, I think I can.”

| —from He Is Legend | 2. Eating A Book

| “is it my fault that i am a human being?

| i wont forget how the wind was blowing

| in your gardens / i was your knight, /

| i was a traitor / i, created to die, /

| to fall into the abyss my existence for

| you to have your flower / your gardens

| grow on my soul / the roots of your trees

| draw juice from my blood / & yield fruit

| from my wounds / your world comes from my

| pain / my wandering, your triumph. my cry:

| for you to exist / my feelings, longing,

| & rebellion / unfulfilled, unreal but i

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Kirby


And she cut a bisected moonscape in halves

of everything severing severine stony like

a frozen moonpie sliced in two. Gore haves

of entrailing sweetness, & how she strikes,

who she savors. A girl as cute saber raves

with no one to save her. Time, when ceased,

stops. Time with you, confused, space gave

& engraves the future plotline we’d seised.

Crow! Cutlass! Cicatrix! Timelines ellipse

& I cannot find that cord to draw yr coeur

to court. A splintering infinite outstrips

with the peel of that Dagger of the Voyeur

the copse planted in Paradies Black Forest.

I search on, crossing planes for your void?

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VI: Letters to Cicatrix / Bleed D.I.R.A.C# Sea


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

�-) ̈ ̂ %%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() §%°&o �

&° ° +=+° ½ ’ ”-/ ?,?, §%°&½_/_/() &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ()½=½=;.

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

25

The Inelegant Dirac Sea was percieved as a

space—agujeros sin fin—drops as zeroes,

which sucks—if you claim culture isn’t a

void. The framing of the world as an erose

space, this reign of these negative stratae

states that to exist is an entombed vacuum.

People kill others for wormhole sense-data,

they fill the grated gaps, never to exhume

all these dead-ends, said to point nowhere.

Next, Lis’ signature positron blade alters

all fates. Can you imagine: a mirror pared

from its other reflected edge? la Faulter:

� Nanon � slit a rift in her self-inversed

shed & fractals events of its causal twins.

| last & i’ll be a thorn in your eye forever.”

| —from Decapitated | The First Damned

| “I’ve got to find—to find the princess

| she’s in another castle—& I’m dancing

| with the Capulet, we’re so crazy in love”

| —from He Is Legend | 1. The Seduction

| “Can you find my angel?

| She crawled under the bed”

| —from He Is Legend | 3. The Creature Walks

| “Just as light pours in the room

| I saw it once (I saw it once)

| It disappeared and so did you”

| —from He Is Legend

| 4. The Greatest Actor Alive or Dead

(Enters Stage Right)

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Kirby


Crossing phrases, as your body rhymes with

mine. I’d yet to know that in the meantime

as Céline saw all matter pared. A monolith

of the real into twain, like, totally mime.

In the lead city a ball parting with width

gray. So too were the kids, to a tire iron,

one side equaled the other. It was no myth,

the half-degreed hot day, halved and pryor,

the buildings, the street she was on going

more parallel from the one Lis was shot on,

half phases said, “How?,?” she had thought,

still whole though, in perfect color, gone

from the world as she knew it, so slow, so

silvered. Also Lis, in cold blood, severed.

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VII: Silver Bullet / Gunmetal Grayed


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

-) ¨ ^%%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() � §%°&o

&°° +=+° ½’”-/ ?,?, §%°&½ _/ _/( ) &%;§;�

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ()½=½=;.

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

27

It was like time stopped & beholds a split

headache, the hurt although still—extant,

in antimatter, preserved not so in an emit

formaldehyde, but set fossilized, excedent,

in amber. Across a city block she heard it,

a shot. Cél stirs—shocked, some were not.

They’d no time to, before the freeze, omit

their peace, for some, it was hard to blot.

& just like that Cél found herself encased

in a pause’s gradient, separate of a world

as it was. A moment around her neck braced

as a precious locket in hand while unfurls

an earthquake. An albatross keeping a date

she left alone after her tattoo shift ends.

| “It’s getting late, I’m coming home

| I picked this rose for you

| I’ve been away searching for oceans

| With time to kill. . .

| You better buy a gun—I’ve seen them

| watching you. The old man and his son,

| “Can you find my angel?

| they’ve been studying your moves. . .

| And I can’t wait—‘til I can sleep in

| late—maybe I’ll miss you then—with

| no garden to tend. . .

| I’m your gardener (oh no, oh no, oh no,

| oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.)”

| —from He Is Legend | 5. China White

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Kirby


Eternity rendered exponential, a reel rips

on both edges of her edge a phrase phasing

as she, petrified upon another end, shifts.

If time stopped, Cél thought, start moving.

She can be saved, although her heart trips

to a steely pause—in suspended animation.

So did Cél’s as she sees Lis’s torso drips.

She can ship her to the ER, said carnation,

& place it there, so they could take to it

immediately. But first, she’d have to stop

the bleeding! So Cél decided she’d do flit;

in the valley of an alley lifted by zero-g.

from the world as she knew it, so slow, so

& so expanded an entire gruesome crimeseen.

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VIII: Iron Resolver / Céline Reloaded


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

-) ¨ ^%%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() §%°&o

&°° +=+° ½’”-/ ?,?, §%°&½ _/ _/( ) &%;§;

�‘”& /̂^&°&+&°+^§‘%§’%^½½½!()½=½=;�

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ , ? , ? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

29

So she goes through every timeline she can,

trying to make up for the times she flaked

on Lis through out these fractals, she ran,

killing each of Lis’ murderers, one staked

by one. They disappeared to sand, lifespan

like the vampires in Buffy. Yet the future

refused to change—Her combat knife began

to dull. She felt she’d cut, & not sutured.

She who ghosted had now been ghosted & yet

now she had time to get to know Lis’ lived

reality, her amen perseverance thru a bête

who put her in a rigged roulette underived.

Cél saw the gash in every scene, to ribbon

she lacerated every plane. Cél too is free.

| “I’ll just keep waiting—You’ll just keep

| waiting. I’ll just keep waiting—You’ll

| just keep waiting. I’ll just keep waiting

| you’ll just keep waiting—I’ll just keep

| waiting. Obsession, obsessive, obsessed,

| abscess.”

| —from Between The Buried & Me

| The Decade of Statues

|

| “We always thought that we had time—to let

| the dead bury their own—& what is this

| that’s trying to slow me down? Feels like the

| the deadweight of all our broken promises &

| every

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Kirby


As her feet hovered just above the asphalt

the world begins to spin in her head again.

Her double negative to zeroth power faults

her mind. And, as Cél hits the street then

she cries: for what she’s seen & her exalt.

She took a sec to come to, brace her break,

and set to her task, or try. Her eyes halt

over Lis’ severed body, stonefaced, flakes

as ash in a wind. A blackbody beauty marks

her cheek like a fist of mars, and steamed

like its imprint. A bullet transmuted dark.

Questions: why & how? a true shock. Beamed,

her frozen twin tear streams—& voidslash.

No one else in the world caret like Céline.

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IX: la Vertigonisse / Rift Paradis


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ̈ &%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

-) ¨ ^%%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() §%°&o

&°° +=+° ½’”-/ ?,?, §%°&½ _/ _/( ) &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ( )½=½=;

� ( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ̂ ,?,? ( ) ? ! ?^^¨�

( - ) °& _ - ( ) ( ) §§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( ) ½=½=;.

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

31

Or could—considering what was the world.

There was vertigo, and then there was this.

A negative shiner, an inverted period girl.

Space oozed from the divide, this Paradis—

would gulp all of it. Cél hurried & curled

Lis into her arms. Spores of space warping

ground & air like rain on a window, whirls

beading behind in a trail as Cél, bounding

through the still air, battles throwing up,

going towards her tenement’s rooftop, four

blocks away, her leaps making great windup.

She crashes on a vent wart, the roof floor.

Lis, so solid, is unhurt by the stark fall.

Cél recovers her, & then kicks the door in.

| stillborn declaration carried too far—too long.”

| —from Cursed | R.I.P.

| “I’ve been jumping over buildings—I’ve been

| sleeping in the street. Well, I’ll meet you

| at the river where we both can clear our

| heads, I think we—would—look great dead!”


| “Lock me up, lock me up, lock me up, lock me

| up (lock me away lock me away lock me away

| lock me away) No one will know.”

| —from He Is Legend | 6. Best In Mexico

| “Raw sugar (save that date)—I don’t wanna die

| living in a high rise grave—my baby come home”

| —from Metric | Raw Sugar

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Kirby


Is this my rind of paradise? Cél had asked

herself, looking at an ampersand form upon

Lis’ eye as a bruise floating up, forecast

to the surface of her head, a cubed photon

squaring to the body’s skin, its open mask,

open darkroom water. She was Lis as far as

Cél’s eye could see, but, stuccoed, a husk

of rendered ash hardened & halved—a pass

on coursed coarse through her, all serrate

at the edges of her sever, reposed in rest.

The space between draws her line like bait,

it felt meaningful, to desire this inquest,

yet it was just a petty want & she knew it

best to crush it, & not her place to touch.

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X: Paradise Rind / Apricot Embalm


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

-) ¨ ^%%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() §%°&o

&°° +=+° ½’”-/ ?,?, §%°&½ _/ _/( ) &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ( )½=½=;

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ ,?,? ( ) ? ! ?^^

�( - ) °&_ -( ) ( )§§§§§§§§¨ ̈ §§§§§§ ( )½=½=; ̈�

=== ¨ ^ ¨ ! “ ’ ” ° ( )!,!&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ()?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

33

Cél had decided to take her this time, see,

& wondered why she had yet thought of this.

Hate can keep us from seeing possibilities,

Love looks the other way—even when amiss

something is. But to Like—here—was key.

She liked Lis enough to see how her tattoo

she’d gave her a week ago was—its debris

chapped, but shedding. From afar Cél views

her home tat station & walks to get a balm

to nourish it. It’s graystuck, as all else,

she’s frustrated, until she takes her calm

knife to it. The jar colors as cream melts,

unlocks with the scent of apricot—& rubs

it on her rosa stellata vine which blushes.

| “I thought I saw her breathing

| But found out she was dead

| It’s too late. . .it’s over!”

|

| There has to be a closer country

| where love can live near me

| Well, I’ve got to find it

| because right now, I’m not seeing clearly

| There’s someone knocking on my door

| no one lives here anymore

| there’s someone knocking on my door

| no one lives here anymore. . . .”


| 9. Dinner With A Gypsy

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Kirby


Her love looked the other way, as Lis’ eye

opened—as blank as an undertaken coroner.

Cél screamed. Of all things—a vital sigh

was the last thing she expected. Her inner

galaxy turns. This couldn’t be real right?

A rind of hair & holding hands grasp cusp

of half Lis’ shell, she saw a hazel sight

staring back, smiling. Cél screams! “Yups,

it’s me,” said Lis as she half-pulled out,

held Cél by the wrist, & dragged her with!

through the chasm & lines of flight route

& tears like beads, quote marks forthwith

accompanied in a stream that crystallized

to a tiny frozen river amidst a dark seam

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XI: Cnidarietta / Pomegranate


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

-) ¨ ^%%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() §%°&o

&°° +=+° ½’”-/ ?,?, §%°&½ _/ _/( ) &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ( )½=½=;

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ ,?,? ( ) ? ! ?^^

( - ) °&_ -( ) ( )§§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( )½=½=; ¨

�===¨^¨!�“ ’ ” ° () !, !&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ( )?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

35

| “I’ve been jumping over buildings

| I’ve been sleeping in the street

| Well, I’ll meet you at the river where

| we both can clear our heads—I think we

| would look great dead.”


| “Is there a place that we can go /

| to teach the children / not to grow?

| Where lovers don’t remember where they met /

| And heartbreak is easy to forget?

| Is there no love to speak of?

| I gotta find a new place to call home.”


| 9. Dinner With A Gypsy

of reality—an ocean of jellyfish phlegm,

her pocket galaxy. “Hi, don’t be stargazy.

We don’t have a lot of time & space. Emmm,

ok so I brung you here. I’ve a sword baby:

her name is � Nanon �, who cuts thru wavy

realities. Think of our universe as a gel

pomegranate—& each aril contains a hazy

stalk of broccoli, those are veins, cells:

timelines—that keep our universes rife.

Each verse has set rule of its own realis

mood. I’ll get to it in a bit—My strife

is with the root of a death you witnessed:

mine. I also wanted to make sure we’d had

our date. I cut thru—lots—to take you.

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Kirby


But we’re gonna cancel it—now—face me.

1 rule is that our verse is just a parody.

You & I, I’ve seen, are never going to be

a thing, another rule. & I shall di every

time. & my madness plusd inside as enmity.

& the worst thing is that it started as a

myth of origin in the country of Paradies!

They’ve been looking for me, you, too the

twin of yours, who’s been sweetly killing

in other timelines, as I have—she threw

the scent off. A detective’s been tearing

out his hair trying to find me, trying to

take my Root to protect their sad reality.

They know I’m coming for them, my revenge.

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XII: Paradie I / Paradies II


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ¨&%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

-) ¨ ^%%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() §%°&o

&°° +=+° ½’”-/ ?,?, §%°&½ _/ _/( ) &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ( )½=½=;

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ ,?,? ( ) ? ! ?^^

( - ) °&_ -( ) ( )§§§§§§§§¨ ¨§§§§§§ ( )½=½=; ¨

| ===¨^¨! “ ’ ” ° () !, !&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ( )?!?^^¨

+) (+...+) “’”’”’ ,½½½½½,_/ §%§%§%&&%§

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

37

In the origin myth, a werewolf was killed,

but it wasn’t just any, it was a me. Bête

of legend, a rarity among a species build.

She tried to take a disguise, but the let

hunter set a musk: embergris—it filled

air, a rare dog whistle, which tears form

of the beheld mind, denudes you as sealed

& gives ‘probable cause’ to kill you more.”

“So the shell wasn’t you?”. . .A booby trap.

It’s good you did what I thought you’d do,

or 531 years of plans would be total crap.”

“I am sorry.” “I know.” “Wasn’t ready too.”

“& you’ll never be. but it’s cool—cause

you’re going to help destroy all Paradies.”

|

| “I’m trying hard to read your mind /

| Built a machine to travel time /

| “Blessing the globe with pestilence” /

| This is my magic residence

| —He Is Legend

| 8. Do You Think I Am Pretty

|

| “Let out a sign / pretend to die/

| You’re going to need an alibi

| A broken arm / the same smell

| So just relax / no one will know

| It stings me all over again /

| it’s the same dream / in the back of my head

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Kirby


“You said Bête an it, do you not identify?”

“No. When you’ve been held here as long as

me you can’t see oneself as any other life.

& anyway, that’s the issue, they keep task

trying to map a plane on us yet—we awry,

reject the graft—So they see fit to gift

us wings. The Were don’t have gender, sigh.

So the fact they said “He” cross time rift

& space. . .REALLY bothers me. So they break

all into what they see. No more. You ready?”

“Huh?” Three scalpel points tore slow rake

across the galaxy fabric, into the setting,

with a snap of four ribs. “Oh, a C-section?

“This is a big break!” says Lis unsheathed.

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XIII: Divorce / Lunairetic


§%§%^¨ = ( o ) ‘ ‘ ’ ½; /§/§/! , ; : ( ‘ ” ’”))o

≙&_/%/ ?§?§? -” ’-”’_/ &°+&°+% %§%§=+

½&½ )° /./°& &! ’-” ’ _/=+) ° ( : ) ’ ” ’ ” ) )o

^§ %%%%, °°°_/? &+%!’” (-))°%%§%§=+

-)=-=-=½;§! ̈ &%%%%% ?&? ( )( )(½) §%°&o

?,;.¨.’/ -) (-%%% ’ ” ’ ” ) ° ( ) ( ) ( ½ ) &%; § ;

-) ¨ ^%%% § ! § ! § ! ... ++” ’ ++?() §%°&o

&°° +=+° ½’”-/ ?,?, §%°&½ _/ _/( ) &%;§;

‘”&^/^& °&+&°+^§ ‘%§’%^ ½½½! ( )½=½=;

( - ) ° ( - ) ° ; . ; . / ‘ ” ” ’ ” ’ ^ ,?,? ( ) ? ! ?^^

( - ) °&_ -( ) ( )§§§§§§§§¨ ̈ §§§§§§ ( )½=½=; ̈

| ===¨^¨! “ ’ ” ° () !, !&&&& ≙ ≙ ≙ ( )?!?^^¨

�+)(+..+)“’”’”’,½½½½½,_/§%§%§%&&%§�

¨’”^¨o o ¨^’” ///^¨ ’ ” ° ° °?-/ §%§%§%&&%§

39

When Lis cleft through Paradies’ incision,

all Cél could do was stare. Her 1st slash

split an autopsist’s skull in red elision,

so it knocked out the nurse too with bash.

Blood pixels on Lis’ face say an eclosion

happened as five agents were, too, halved.

Lis stalks the president, whose implosion

of shit prompts him to scream—& arrived

now—bursted thru the wall: “Paraselene!”

“Lis, my dearie—You didn’t really think

I’d let ya leave? We’ve court proceedings.

Your charge is Grand Conspiracy in a link

with the slain beast—How do you plead?”

Happy Lis charged for the judge’s jugular.

| in the back of my head.”

| —He Is Legend | 6. Best In Mexico

| “Like a TV, you wanna turn on man”

| —from Skepta | Nasty

| “Oh / how I felt safe /

| & she’s been singing out of tune

| just then / I’m flying to the moon

| & I don’t know where / I don’t know when /

| but / someone’s gonna give / give me in.”/

| “I never saw the officers—

| but I heard what they said”


| 4. The Greatest Actor Alive or Dead

|

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Kirby


Between endless clashes goring black holes

through the Paradies’ core—Cél stuck out

of the cavity & saw a girlcorpse in a sole

largesse of a wolf cadaver & a space about

Cél’s hips, leg. She sat back in her shoal

of the void in a fetal position as a world

sucked in around her, safe. She saw a soul

whom were the Route of a wormholed whirled

like a root ball—as an atom of scratches

on the subway go barely glimpsed by no-one.

Cél stared through the window into hatches

of darkness—a funnel cake of tunnel runs.

Marriage is what occurs when our Dirac Sea#

evaporates an open drop—taken by hot air.

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XIV: Prominence / Debridal


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41

A blanket of night covered outside, dots

connected, an eclipse from inside out as

the populace’s bodies imploded with rots

inversed further—vacuous to their last.

Lis & Sel’s Avers Heat Death severs jots

like punctuations into the membraned sap

in form of reborn body paragraphs—mots

de passe sealing the cluster’s latch gap.

So, entropy occurs when one is left bare

with nil, except an other side of a lens

sheet of paper—white as the walls lair

Heather’s bed, a comforter of intestines.

A reversal—the territory is not my map.

& so I change, a girl to reveal her land.

| “Wait! This is a cover up

| Let me see him

| Alert the press!

| Where’s the wolf, where’s the wolf

| Where’s the wolf, where’s the wolf,

| I gotta find him.”

| —He Is Legend

| 7. The Walls Have Teeth

| Heather’s gone, she left a note

| “He Is Legend” was all she wrote

| Go fetch the detective

| I think I’ve found something. . .

| This isn’t Heather’s handwriting!

|—He Is Legend | 10. I Am Hollywood

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Kirby


Laeverl’& Afterword | Neutral Ending 0

“Fragments of the moon and the darkness.

I weave them and gently whisper.

Understanding joins everything.

I take it out and a shapeless word is born.”

—from Envy | Pieces of the Moon I Weaved

Cél somersaulted out of the cavity to negate the sheer confusion that was taking a toll

on her, but she almost tilted to the ‘floor’ anyway. She looked down, and there was

no floor. Just whiteness. & she jumped with a scream, as if the absence of an evident

texture was a surface, as if she thought she would fall. So she jumped, then landed,

then collapsed. Paraselene and Lis were talking a ways away. Eventually, having shaken

off the aftershocks of total calamity, she ran up to both of them.

“What the fuck was that,” Cél asked. She shoved Paraselene’s shoulder. “I thought

you turned on her, how could you?!”

“Haven’t you ever heard of a double turn?” said Paraselene, slicking back

her bangs, rubbing & rotating her arm, checking the rotator cuff. “If I hadn’t

joined up with Paradies, I wouldn’t have gotten this,” she said, flashing the

� Voyeureuse �, a comically large cake knife. More along the lines of a sword

breaker.

“531 years,” said Lis. “I hope you didn’t think I was bullshitting.”

Cél fell back onto her behind. It took her a few moments of silence before: “So

now what?”

Lis half-planted Nanon into the absence like a sheath of soil. She looked to the

horizon, although with things as they are, it had to have been imagined.

“Well...”

“Where do we even go from here,” asked Cél, hand raised.

“We did a good thing by destroying that universe. I know it may not make any

sense to you, you lost everything, but. . .if we didn’t the same things would have kept

happening. & I was beyond sick of it all. If you have power, you should do something

good with it. What else could we do besides clear the board?” Lis put her hand on the

pommel.

“I wasn’t made to create, but to destroy, as you can see. I was cutting in blind

anger for at least 20 years, purely, destroying everything that didn’t make sense to

43

erase. When I finally got tired, I got sad. I realized I didn’t know how to start over,

even if I could have a new life. But then I saw that more or less, this is it, & I have a

responsibility for something larger. I had to carve what we see before us through pure

trial & error.” She let it go, squatting towards the floor.

“I wanted to save you,” said Cél. Sel laughed, it was something she’d given up a

long time ago.

“Save me?” asked Lis. “There was a song I liked, that said: I needed someone to

move me, not someone to save me, just someone to move me.”

Lis gestured to Sel & Cél. “That’s what y’all did. I was always going to destroy

Paradies. It was just a matter of when, & how I would go about it. I ended up taking

the most neutral route. What were you going to do? Take me to the hospital, totally

severed in half, drop me in the ER, & hope the doctors would just immediately

conduct surgery?”

Cél looked down, almost ashamed.

Lis rejoined, “I chose this version of you because you believe in the impossible. It’s

not just because you ghosted on me that I think you a fool.”

Cél looked up, tearing up.

Lis says, “So, that leads me to where we’re going next. Sel, she should hear it from

you.”

Sel stopped fingering the tatters of her shirt. She scooted toward Cél in pretzel

position.

She looked just like Cél, but obviously & thoroughly worn, aged, mature. Her face

was speckled in dry blood. She had a razor line in her eyebrows, to be sure, it was one

she cut herself amidst all this time she had.

“You’re gonna do what I couldn’t do,” Sel said. “I did the same as you, I went

through timelines with my knife to take revenge one at a time. I wanted to clear the

board. But I was working too small. The knife, one night, showed me what to do. It

sensed I was thinking that all of this was going nowhere slow, so it showed me a future.

& it was this one. So I’m so happy to be here, to know it’s really true. . .I had my role

when I managed to run into Lis. She gave it to me, here I am, playing my position. I

know it seems like you just sat there a lot, but now it’s time for you to take action.”

Sel took Cél’s hands. “You’ll remake the universe.”

Lis stood up. “We trust it’s in the right hands. You know judging by everything

we’ve seen. It’s not like the world we lived in was anything that was gonna change for

the better in any sort of hurry. As for Sel & me, we’ve got other fish to fry out here.

Kirby


Paradies wasn’t the only rotten fruit worth chopping. I don’t want to live in the world

anymore, come back to life. This is more me, I think.”

Sel stood up as well. “& if it turns to shit, you know we’ll be back,” she said, with

a finger gun.

“How do I even do that?” asked Cél, crying now.

Sel squatted back down & took her hands. Lis started to walk towards the wolf/

girl portal.

“Sit here as long as you need. Come up with rules, envision a planet, a general flow

of history.

Plant the � Voyeureuse � into the floor, then start walking into the very

beginning. Everything will change, when you will vanish. Don’t ask me where.”

“Not even we know everything,” shouted Lis.

Cél started to weep. Sel hugged her. “Why are you crying?”

“I’m gonna die aren’t I?”

Sel laughed. “Die? You already have.”

This grew her tears deeper.

“Shit. I’ve never been good at this.”

Cél continued to weep.

“Fuck. Well, hey, the � Voyeureuse � is the knife you’ve been using. Use it to

control the flow of time. I gotta go.”

Sel ran over to the wolf/girl portal.

“Whatever you do, please keep this safe, okay?”

Lis & Sel went into the portal, & the wound closed.

Cél, outstretched like someone making a snow angel, or the Vitruvian Man, cried

into the absence. She was jealous it wasn’t her who went with Lis. She too, knew that

the longer they lingered, the more it would hurt.

The tears streamed from her face for a long second. Then she turned onto her side,

once more in the fetal position.

Eventually, the world of Laeverl’& to come came to mind.

aristilde kirby - bwr

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