A hundred geese overhead — A thousand — A million — Heady scent of premonition. Acrid tang of ill omens. Portents. Too much meaning In too small a space.
Geese are a byproduct of laminar shear stress Of two layers of phantasmagorical Newtonian fluids, Which is why they’re often seen on a plane. A thin, sort-of Truth From a sort of thin layer geese chromatography.
red tint to vision; hot flashes
As the dove bears the olive branch, so to the goose bears the wand that withers all it touches. A wand of nightshade, Core of tainted silver. A wand of obscure origin, The goose surely stole it. Malice begets malice.
confusion; nausea; sweating; racing pulse
We know not the transgression, the origin - We know not the punishment, only the terror.
pounding heart; tunnel vision; racing thoughts; black outs; blood pouring from ears
Geas Wing Dark Horizon
tinnitus; piloerection; shortness of breath; uneven gait
I’d rather owls. Owls, as though geese were turned inside out, made less evil. Still portentous, Still momentous, Just less terrifying. Owls are okay. I can think about owls.
subdermal itching; formication
Life within a comfortable grid. Parallel lines Interrupting narrowing circles Of birds in flight. Travel in straight lines. Turn at right angles. Trace the roof of your mouth With wet tongue. I’m not afraid of geese anymore Because I can step on them now. I’m big enough.
Ritual thinking Driven by geese — By lines, by grids, by food — By numbers and neat delineation. And I’m left with questions: Why are they so portentous? Why the anxiety? Or maybe: Did I take my meds this morning? Failing that, Can I just have the comfort of prayer Or the ecstasy of signs Without the bleak paranoia Over circling birds?