BOG OFF FLY!

“I DO WISH THAT BLOODY FLY WOULD BOG OFF!!!!” Said the sorcerer, as he sat at his desk and began to scribble and scribe and engage in diatribe… to while and wail away, part of a less than, perfect day.

It is an whole week, seven days, off of the SSRIs, today. Haven’t experienced any discontinuity symptoms as such… though ye ol’ Canis Niger has moved back in. Then again, did she ever actually leave? Well, she’s back now for sure and has taken up residence on the pretty blue rug in my study. However, on the plus side of the equation, my creative juices have begun to flow again… I am salivating at the bit, so to speak. Mayhap, is simply a question of horse-trading. I can choose to subdue Canis Niger , well, to a certain extent. She never goes away. I can’t even remember when she moved in to be honest. Though, thinking about it, my earliest recollections of her presence is way back when, when I was apprentice to a poet and was learning the craft. Maybe, Canis Niger comes with the territory.

It appears, that the solution is a simple, question of, horse-trading. Nothing more.

The fly is, now perched on the top of the painting of Artemis, watching me… I am reminded of the ghost of Zen Fly. Another ghost. From another time.

Canis Niger stirs and looks lovingly upon me as I pass her on my way to the kitchen to refill my mug with coffee. Stopping, to have a few words with one of my house-guests en route.
“What has it come to when an Ooni is employed as a bouncer?” The question is rhetorical, in the sense, that the answer is apparent in the form.

The fly has settled down to take forty winks atop Artemis’ portrait.

Ghosts… echoes… that enwrap and caress…

We are never alone, ghosts from our past walk with us always. Ghosts of what we once were… echoes of what we have become… there is no separation in time, between and betwixt them, for time itself is an illusion. There is only that very seething chaos… and Canis Niger . She stirs.

finis