Day one, Year two, Quarantine Journal

Let’s go deeper and downer, into the muck, the brown swill, and then let’s keep going, down and down to the liquid core, the molten mess, where we can heat our frozen guts and send sweet heat up along the capillaries the branches the rivulets the lightning.

Let’s go deeper and deeper, downer and downer into the bloody mess, the cherry red, the sucking ooze, the fury of the underworld where Inanna and her sisters across time are rotting on hooks, on halberds, their bodies burnt crisp from the stake, the marks of their witchitude scabbed over where Inquisitors cut them in pieces, the better to satisfy their carnal lust to look at the bodies of women their god deprives them of and they become monsters, perversions of men who love their own bodies and the bodies of others. 

Let’s go deeper and deeper, downer and further, searching for our own holy divine, scratching below the surface, the psychic surface as well as the crust of earth that keeps the melting iron and bubbles of lava encased in its sensible cover, the earth as we know her, of cats and cattails, pussy willows, baby catfish swimming on the bottom sucking holy rotted leaves and the carapaces of crawfish into their wide bewhiskered mouths,

And we cut them open, these fish that eat our garbage, and split them onto roasting grills and smack our lips when we chow down on their sweet flesh wrapped in fresh po’boy bread with sauce dripping and burning onto the table, the red checked table, onto the fries, our holy hot sauce fries that have come from the silent earth, we sit and lick our lips as we eat tubers and freaky Friday fish that swim in our holy muck.