The freezer is brewing up
to something
in the upper hall,
outside the bedroom
- where we're bearing, each night,
toward nocturnal unknowns
aboard our Great Ship of Dreams -
emitting a distant, almost imperceptible
rolling gamelan,
like rumours of war
or the Odyssean Sirens,
mystically alluring unto my ears,
calling up that hidden source in me
that sings with the stars
and walks with death

I carried that freezer
up the curving wooden staircase
in the once upon,
before I flew off a galloping horse
in the northern woods
and broke my back,
two Polish surgeons delivering me
into my New Life,
starting as soon as I came to,
out of the anaesthesia
at The Umeå University Hospital
on 5th June 2018

I move lightly, elf-like,
since then,
in a spiritual posture
full of light
and mirror images,
but I refrain from lifting bulky loads now,
and I admit
I'm sometimes much too human,
on occasions,
considering the wings I was offered,
the sights I see
and The Vita Nuova I tread each day,
a Titan Temple affixed to my spine
with ten titan screws that hum their mantra
in this world of see-through mirrors

The hidden,
up till lately unexplained
freezer gamelans
are parallells
to the minute, minuscule,
at first ignored
and then denied
little disorders of the body;
little pains, numbnesses, imbalances,
the intermittent dimmed vision
as well as the white noises
and shortwave signals in the ears
as the years surround me
with their proofs

And I must get up
twice or thrice
each night,
to piss
- a benign prostate enlargement -
causing the Wildwife some trouble,
though I try to hover out
like the elf I am,
not disturbing the Vita Nuova air
much,
but her sleep is thin as silk