Kallisti

By the railroad tracks,
shadows gather in pairs.

On the silent side of town,
in the early hours, when the morning still feels like night
they gather
and they whisper
"Where is Eris?
          Where is Eris?
                  Where is Eris?"
They pass each other with passing smiles
for they know;
Eris comes this morning.

In the hours after last call and before first light
when the late partiers arrive home
and the early risers are still asleep.

At the cross roads between one day and another,
her followers gather
cultivating confusion's synchronicity
faith flung into discord's harmony.

Now the myth becomes manifest
their mass an army.
Now the band strikes up a wandering, playful tune
and they take the streets.

They flood the empty alleys
with their wondrous clothes
and exquisite face paint;
with their furs and veils and masks
they march to the forgetful brass band.

The band that wills them into a walk
before bursting into a gypsy ballroom dance.
The band that plays despite the crazed dancers
that knock them slightly out of tune.
They take the empty streets with their fickle force,
falling into them backwards.
And they say:

"Eris find us.
       Discord bind us.
               The marching band guides us.
We are the crazies that hide in your alleys,
and you are our madness.
We have altered our reality permanently,
and there is no going back.
We celebrate the strange and enunciate the nonsense.
We have nothing for you and everything for each other.
Join us.
Be weird and live forever.
Everyone is welcome for the cost of a dance or a glance.
Bring what you have; it is enough.
We ask nothing of you save that you stop pretending to be normal.

But mind you;
come with us now
for the army of the weird comes not quietly
and passes quickly.

We dress in the fabric of fancy
and we risk it all for nothing in particular.
We are the dream
and you the sleeper.
We are the animals that whoop and howl beneath your balconies.
We caw and yip and scream.
We yell and roar and cry.
We are your wake-up call
We are your repressions,
your slippery psychosis,
loosed upon the world.
Come with us!
We follow the band that forgets it's playing
we are fearless and free

We are Eris and you- our apple.

We are the light of the apocalypse
And we march
          to see the sunrise
                     at the End of the World."