The Fairy Castle
It’s sad to watch
the wizards as they
duel with their lightning sticks.
Let’s hide behind the giant stones.
Let’s run away into the night.
The vines will embrace us.
The leaves will kiss us.
The water will speak to us
The snake said to put down the knife.
It is better to go around something
than actually have to confront it.
This is how you escape
from the labyrinth
that always takes more
than it gives.
The wizards will never stop fighting.
Only the moon cares about us.
Only the moon.
We will bide our time with the day.
We will make a deal with the circle.
We will never have to go back.
Our family is a pack of wolves.
It is once again the age of Aquarius.
A large question mark is sometimes better
than a little one, I guess.
The sun is up, and I’m finely starting
to get warm again.
Tunes sparking on the stereo.
Atoms are moving.
Time like a bandit is sitting on top of the fence
It makes the same kind of sense.
Leaves moving through the apocalypse.
Some guy is drawing a line in the dust
and pointing at it with a daedal index.
Scotch tape is better than tacks
or so the landlord thinks.
Life is kind of like a teeter-totter.
It’s good when someone else
is on the other end.
Michael Brautigan is a freelance writer, poet, literary scholar, and activist who graduated from UC Berkeley with a degree in English. He has been published in the Milvia Street Journal, Blink-Ink, Undergroundwriter, and Collective Exile and has been an active member of online writing groups such as the New Surrealist Institute, World Poets Society, Inter Dada, and Poetry San Francisco.