Argument: Genealogies and war stories as Lathynarn crosses the iron plain to spy something, a new day, on the horizon.I asked myself: who was this metal knight we walked with on the iron plain? I asked him and he began:
“Father
of my father’s
fathers’ fathers’ et cetera.
Let me sequence my past
from first to last:
“Noah begat Cherom
who swam by the ark
as penance for his stench –
his brothers would wrench
the wood from the hull
to waft off the smell
had he shat aboard.
Cherom swam by the ark,
a mighty sailor
of his boat made of water
and famed as a shark-
baiter extraordinaire –
he was a fifteen per center
when he sold on to old Noah
but was disowned
for his stench and his politics:
quite left of centre
and socialist in principle.
“Cherom on landing
begat dear Jeshua
long-lived and bearded
and twitted in excelsis –
who claimed the whole world
of meals was held resident
in his facial hair:
a ballotine of eels,
a junket of pear,
a guava soup of lemon leaves
and peaves of peach-air
within bubbles of pig-bollocks –
for this he was disowned
and abandoned,
crowned and never pardoned
as the King of Heathen Foods.
Wine soaked his beard
and drenched his poor wife –
quite drunk and peaceable
for the remainder of her life.
“Jeshua begat Anhesus
who begat Desparus
who begat Trióde –
yp-yippity and glory day!
for he earned great accolades
and cheers for his puked-up
mixtures of lime-necked
beers of foreign lands.
“Trióde begat Job –
moaning cunt of a man
with pus and retro-
active wonders on his skin
that begged a thirst to begin
the patient story of his life.
“Job begat Absalon
who begat Legion
and Gentile begatted
by Legion who batted
his sperm to all-comers –
Head Spin Oafs
and Rum Tum Tummers,
Tuggers and Glory-Bes
to the crowds and faces.
“Gentile begat Asher
the Ancient and Childless
who took after grandfather
and whose semen was sieved
and alternately mixed
with honey and ash
and smeared betwixt
the breasts of fallen women.
“Asher begat no-one
but his money to further
the cause of insemination
and brought to the world
some shy ones in corners
and their children’s desires
to mix and procreate
a new land twirled-up
in blue and red.
“The crowd, that noise and rabble,
begat my father: Ibn Hasid of Levant,
well-versed in the poet’s
idle conversation and cant.”
The procedure halted.
“But why
[…I asked…]
have you become
a metal man, when your father’s
fathers have been bodies
of flesh like me?”
Quixana looked down at me sideways, a corner of an eye to hide in, and tapped that foam red nose he had strung around his head and shooooshed me to silence.
[I supposed that a knight must have epithetic ancestors to justify himself – something to do with good knightly health, like greens and vitamins, like warm milk and citizens who address the church each Sunday in happy tones.]
“But why
[…I continued…]
do you wear that?
A red nose, slightly sillier
than clown feet and wigged hair
multi-coloured?”
He turned his head this time – the moon glinted off the crafted eyebrows which, by complex means, hydraulics and pulleys, could lower to conspiracy – plus his voice was programmed for music in times of drama:
“Young boy,
you would be wise
to acquire one on this plain –
this flat territory
is dangerous!
The clowns,
not those you know,
wander here in search of Dear Fame
and Dear Celebrity
and will slaughter
the ones
who do not seek
the seekings they parade themselves
in honour of and sing
the praises of!”
I remembered clowns and fools from the days a game of chess ended quick – sick Brian was terrified, we all lied to avoid them – a fear of clowns, devils and demons a genetic necessity the books informed us – and they were somehow here on this plain! what demonic comedy did they wish to perform? Quixana shook a head at my fear:
“Danger
is relative –
they would only bite your nose off.
Slaughter is a figure
of speech only –
do not
be scared of them;
but be wary of the terror
that they would entertain
out towards you.
“A war
is underway
underneath our feet – enemies
as numerous as days
of the year,
equal
to the total.
Every clown for himself and God
(whichever) against all
in the battle.
“Fear not.
Instead just laugh
at the jokes and routines and glee
that brings you much closer
to the Clown War.
“Listen:
I was perhaps
the first to see it rumble up
through the manhole covers
to the overground.
Starting
with a clatter
the first clown pushed at the cover
and pulled himself upwards.
Elbows and hands
rolling
the heavy disc
to the side, clattering it down
the street, spinning its way
down avenues.
Then he
staggered upright.
I saw his blue satin wig
his harsh green sideburns
and his red nose
bloody,
scratched and hanging.
His trousers pantalooned, ballooned
with the updraft, down
from the underground.
His belt
four foot around,
its circumference an orbit
of his thin waist, that nose
a scarlet sun.
The noise –
banging a crash
of metal on bone –
erupted like Etna
from underneath
and came
overground around
me – then the clown looked at me, stared
as at a guilty boy.
And then he ran.”
Quixana turned from me and we walked on quiet while I scoured the ground – this overground above that Clown War’s underground – for a nose, red, to disguise me as one of them.
“But if
[…I said to myself…]
it’s one for one
in this war of a million clowns
and no other people…
… why be a clown?”
We walked on – first Lathy, then Quixana with myself following at the back.
***
“Light! Lit!
Luminated!
Look out - a light’s ahead of us!
Not the moon’s reflection
in the distance!”
Lathy shouted out and jumped some inches in the air – he was right – over there a tower of light that begged us to run to it – we did not scrimp on it – we took speed in our feet and ran with little care for the first light beyond moon, stars and reflections we had seen in the years we had walked on the plain – since we had left our ponies in their stationary pain – since we had walked and walked in this maze of no lanes and alleys to distract us but a compass rose of options to choose which way to train our future on.
The tower – this lighthouse – grew larger and we saw it above us – the clanking feet of Lathy and Quixana loud on the metal ground echoed off these walls we did not expect: light from each brick, a wall of blinding light to make us shield our eyes – four hundred feet of light, spot lit, incandescent, fluorescent, halogen and LEDs before us lies – I looked through fingers for some darkness before us.
And then, with a music box accident and fling-at-wall attention, Lathynarn’s digital watch struck BEEP!
It was midnight and a new day began.
prev - 2.3 On the plain
next - 2.5 Rattle big black bones
