It was Auguste 14th when Shell's teeth stopped shattering.
In her sleep they usually did, but sometimes in the
day they would clench and grit.
and inside to the base of her skull she could feel the vibrations.
It was an intensity that was self-driven like some kind of nervous twitch
and  right   between the   base  action of   it
she felt like even her dreams were reflected with a vivid buzz.

The man draped in wolf skin would smile and hold out a cup of liquid.
The golden cup was fastened with fox bones and laid out in a pattern
that cycled around the container
but it was not the structure or the presentation of the cup that mattered
but it was the violet liquid in where the tale began.
Began Began began

The sound of locusts always sounded like electrical lines not warring with each other but crackling to be noticed more easily by any other creature that was not a locust.

The liquid bubbled like alkaceltzer and she accepted the cup from the man's hands
holding it up to her lips.
draped in wolfskin, eyes in makeup,
barefeet and claws around chord around his neck
there was a center of attention of burn scars decorated from the base of
his wrists all the way to his biceps
in some salamander pattern, dancing one to one
in a form
precise and important
but she could not talk
only ask through action
and only learn through symbols

teeth chattering in her other body
but these classes she took,
transcribed in to her other body
and this man
would he teach others
at the same time
in the same night
perhaps the very same things
it did not matter,
she intuited
not in some nihilistic way
but as an acceptance that she was chosen
to receive these drinks
and walk these paths

Paths otherwise driven out and away

But the skies were as violet as her drinks
and the planes were as golden as that cup she now held
Yet not, too, like the cup, scattered with animal bone
or even residue
but tall curling plants of a neon blue
which seemed to speak or breathe as loudly
as the actions of the man
or the bubbling of the liquid
and even that of the sky.

but it was yet early in time to really hear
what that plants did say
and in her other body she never did see those kinds of plants before

she would always birth back in to it before they opened up their mouths
by the brew had hit her stomach
and her teeth would stop chattering
finally once and for all
when she revisited that place
and the man,
without speaking
would say more to her than any mouth
of any man or woman
in her other body, had ever said,
but this time the plant,
it wrapped around her

not startling,
for she was always safe there,
and it spoke to her
through feelings
and through a pulse
where the sky would suck down and raise again
and the man would hold the golden cup and shake it
where the bones would rattle downward
and shake to the golden plain

where Fox would spring to life and dart
one after one
in many directions

where the plant, with many arms
and mint-like leaves
in that neon blue
entered in her scents
and poured through her tastes
on her tongue
and the man Smiled

and she birthed in to her other body
Teeth had stopped grinding
There was nothing left to speak,
no way to say it really,
but at the window sill
in a flower pot
This was the first but not the only
The miracle species
of a plant destined to be spacious

like some invention that overcomes tycoons
release the blueprints shall not sell it to
release the blueprints release the blueprints
freely freely freely
without institution
release the blueprints, copy, reproduce

She planted, planted planted
and the Man smiled more and more and more
in more people's visions
where they woke up with minted sensations
in their windowsills or near their bedfoot
or even near wettened boxes and tentsides
To grow such a nutrient

where Fox bone bounces off golden plains
and spring with the fire of a tail in any
direction
Etchings of burnt skin tracing in a pattern
up to the neck and around a jaw
of a smile that almost had faded
but replanted,
destined.


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