Tuesday, November 27, 2012

#7 The Safety Pin Cafe: "Look to the source, sniff for the truth"

There is remedy in the everyday. Anyway you find it, practice homeo-practical magic.
-The Joy Weed Journal
more ventures with Pale The Border Witch ...the next part of The Safety Pin Cafe.

Read the Previous Installment 
Read the First Installment


I am never quite ready for Stardust exits. The absence of the light is one thing, but I've learned something over time: sniff for the truth. Smoke is caught by the nose before the eye; and freshly baking pie? Well, the nose knows first in that case, too. Raven's absence was making me uncomfortable. I don't like the feeling. Longing for him after such a brief ... brief what? "Mutual seduction, perhaps." It was The Lady. Fluttering this time through the keyhole of the bedroom door, the Fairy Lady wore blue. At this size her voice was audible, and not echoing. "I followed the scent of the dust and as it happens with us I saw the shifting outline of pie," Fairy Lady had actually collected the pie dust. In a dust bin no bigger than a mouse turd she landed on my sensible black boot. The left boot.

With not so much as a word, the Fairy Lady emptied the contents of her dust bin onto my boot. "Your secrets are not very well-kept Pale The Border Witch," the voice like running water teased. "You are neutral medicine, Lady," I answered. "Allowing my basket of notions to you is a choice I make with no never-mind." Rising like yeast-dough the toe of my sensible boot was now a doughnut of a basket. Soft and red in the center like a jelly doughnut, all the notions of necessity lay in suspension ... inside the gooey jell. The sides twined like vines in any proper basket though these were the i'ei'e come from far and time nearly out of memory.

I chanted the words of permission, careful and thorough where it mattered. My answer: The Faceless Woman was two doors from my own room. "Now?" I asked. The basket lifted and tucked itself i-ka-poli-o-Pale (into my armpit). The Fairy Lady had tricks of her own. Rubbing her fingers together until sparks jumped like fleas a long thin silver hat pin extended itself. She ran it expertly along Raven's Safety Pin. Two pins. Two notions. "You will need both, and it will matter in which order you use them, Pale The Border Witch," Raven was at my side. I reached to assure myself of his standard. My wrist found no purchase. "Look to the source, sniff for the truth," I heard him say.

The Safety Pin Cafe and The Joy Weed Journal are Copyright Protected(c), 2012
Yvonne Mokihana Calizar 

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