Spicier Than Truth
   Seven swords/four of coins a Zulu shield woven from their enemy’s swords: a knotty triffid kaleidoscope wherein the enemy’s cherubic soccer-mascot wields a spitsnake to scare the Zulus.A heraldic raft with druggy blooms at each corner for tidal trips (a brave barge with dank swords blossoming out beauteous fungi): a reflective face, reflective face with an ancient paedophiliac brooch used as the single nose. Hiya, Four-Eyes!! the four antherine blooms seek the pollination upon the four rose-plates.  The sun/judgement the sun comes out after the storm blast, raising naked people from hollow brick-rafts whose particular specific gravities allow them to alternately sink and float like feathers in a swamp of green bile. The lagged red lightning from the erstwhile storm becomes the sun’s own starform shafts: a kind sun which allows the children to come out to play in a near nudity: too cunning to strip off completely like their resurrected parents.God dressed in His mouldy wings is astride the thunder angel’s back. The Sun is God’s enemy, because He wants people to stay dressed. But not for morality’s sake. Omniscient Imagination is spicier than truth.  Nine of coins/ace of cups A banquet with nine covers, where the ninth and last guest to arrive has his cover set in the middle of the table, to act as overseer of the untangling of the nectar siphons. The feast lasts forever and the ninth guest gradually turns into a Kaiser cup: the Platonic Form of Drink which the other eight once eschewed but now covet.  Queen of coins/queen of swords Two tankards of ill-bodied bitter, each with its aftertaste and even sharper tongue. Lithe playpen is mightier than the sword, then money is greater than both bookends. Time’s the only taming of shrews.Mace and sword their only stems, eyes their only tears he ets.  The world/juno The Twelve Days of Christmas is sung as they board the ark with Noah’s premature wreath. When the flood subsided, unregulated transvestism’s final unscarfing betokened the wrong permutations of sex and the end of humanity as we know it (or knew it). The world is now simply populated by animals who only know us people as old Jungian dreams in gaudy dresses or skimpy scarves.  Ten of cups/five of coins Ten empty egg-cups for a salady tea. Two eggs each! Greedy beggars! But which came first, the egg or the egg? When green vegetables turn mouldy, they don’t simply turn greener. Impatience grew rampant. Condiments and insults, till the egg-chef broke his head on the five platters that came winging angrily into his hen-pen. His blood formed into chick-foetus roses. Eventually all manner of things would be well. And abstemious.  King of Coins/Knight of Cups Two chess pieces became playing cards overnight. They were angry at becoming not only two-dimensional but face down. So nobody, least of all me, could form images from them, but fulsome darkness was better than being hidebound as to strict paths and angles of wayfare.