O’ Sweet Fever!
May 1, 2022 / Aaron Boehmer
let us stay in this weird place forev’r
We beseech thee, O’ Royal Dullness,
That your somber ways once cast’d upon
The great and sacred EARTH
Be gone from the breadth of our view!
Be gone from the breath of our mouth!
We thank the HEAVENS!
For the vibrancy that hath been born onto us.
Stretching into our own selves,
In this new & brilliant NIGHT,
Let us show forth what we mean,
Ent’r into our mind’s eye!
Nev’r before hath we witness’d a moment like this!
A moment uncheck’d,
O’ loving bliss,
A moment of no surveillance,
O’ let it be limitless!
Why do you ignore us?
We sing it to you, dear one,
For it is finished!
We henceforth commit ourselves to
An eternity of absurdity!
A most wondrous, ongoing returning.
Do you see us glisten?
Thy eyes must be shut,
We beg o' thee to see us!
Beest like the MOON,
Tantalize us with the promise of turning tides!
Waft us like blades of ev'rgreen,
O’ joyous SPRING!
Dead plants spoil'd
By the lips of WINTER
Bloom once again.
O’ but we too bloom,
And bloom, we do it better!
For we are gone from the commands of the EARTH,
Hath ent’r’d a different place,
The unrul’d hereafter.
You see how we reach beyond the genus of
And whatever else the ground
Hast got in its loins!
Doth thee not believe us?
Doth thee bethink us to be LIARS?
Come forth and see for yourself, coward!
We extend our limbs to you,
Dear and faithful friend.
Can you hear us?
Are you even a friend to us?
Be our beloved,
O’ please, take us by the bunch,
Like a bouquet of flow’rs.
Will you marry us?
Not now, you fool!
Too eager, with haste you hath become!
Fie, can’t thee seeth we art yet to beest ready?
Do you not listen?
You mustn’t have!
Attendeth thy ears to us,
We has't toldeth thee bef’re,
But it seems we must sayeth again!
Let us enjoy the sweetness
Before you take us back to
Before the DIRT we become
Maybe in three years time?
Just before the fever of it all ends,
Bef’re we wake from this midsummer night
Dream of whatev’r our mind doth conjure up.
For we know that you will throw us back
To the will of the winds,
Who offer blows of refreshing love,
But do fill our mouth with hot, suffocating air.
You are the winds.
Friends to foes to lov'rs,
Alas, we do wed,
And DIRT soon we become.
We do decree,
We already yearn to end this marriage!
For you oft’n stink of rotten eggs,
SULFUR, you must to be!
Sickness becomes us when we look on thee,
Let us div’rce NOW!
Foes, we declare once m’re,
And behold, ungood fellow,
A new life endueth after the DIRT once again!
One that is beyond your breadth
And breathes beyond your lungs!
For some time, we stay below the ground
Trying to catch our air.
Sweet dreamscapes fill our souls
With a freeing humour.
A humour for which we take with us,
As we emerge,
And emerge from the DIRT we do
Far better than bef’re, too,
For it be without you!
O’ you poor toad, hath you become lost
Now that we left thee?
Did you flee to the SUN
And melt on your way up?
Ha, that be rich!
Valourous thing that we went when we did,
Bef’re you became an ICARUS!
Without thy grips,
We begin to feel our dead hearts,
Beating once m’re,
Transporting through the veins of the sweet EARTH,
Water through a riv'r,
We run past the hues of the SKY,
O’ but they begin to shine so absurdly,
Punches of hot pink,
Throws of lime green dance with us
Neon orange doth kiss our cheeks
A welcome home.
We lengthen like branches,
We spread our limbs and rejoice!
Our hair blows at the desire of
Our new dear, FEVER!
And the fever be far bett’r than you!
We bend reality!
Drink from the SUN,
Befriend the lovely birds,
If we so please to do that!
For it be our turn to indulge!
You hath done it yourself,
Has’t englutt’d many a promiscuous desire,
So let us do it now.
We continue to grow,
Like vines that nev’r not twist up oak trees,
We are like the ivy,
Flying, flexible, and fluid,
Ever-climbing up abandoned buildings
And street lanterns,
Through holes in the wall,
Cracks in the sidewalk,
Down rusted bridges,
And rolling hills,
Becoming m’re and m’re our own selves in this hour,
In this FEVER dream!
It is a best of night,
‘Til it be morrow,
When you rip us
From this UTOPIA
This sweet FEVER! ■
by: Aaron Boehmer
layout: Grace Davila
photographer: Rachel Aquino
videographer: Maddie Abdalla
stylist: Noelle Campos & Zaha Khawaja
hmua: Jaycee Jamison
models: Maliabo Diamba, Genesis Pieri, Ellis Brown