Remember how to sing. If not, to hum, or whistle a waltz. Understand the beast, and restrain it with a stumbling spot dance. Think of your goodness, and not of your sin. Of the young, for they are short of life. Of your faith, or your doubt, and the quality of prayer.
And darkness was upon the face of the deep
Lit the lights in the empty black. Spun off gaseous globes, quick travelers caught in the slow sway of their mothers. Some boil down with seeded airs. A witching's then afoot. Hards and softs and liquids. Bright lodes to find and mine. And mind, next door- Venus is venous.
A pause for thought
The slant of the sun. The moss-green mechanic with his fat cigar, chuffing like a chimney. The little kid threesome on the gravel shoulder, fist-pumping the diesel driver. and the undetected grasshopper atop my dusty boot. How slowly I move. I've never been here, but I know it.
A killing
What's lent is a conjured greenfield. A tree spreads, knows the horizon. I will feed on atmosphere aquamarine and minty clouds. Give a cry at tempting scenes of primal histories, and wonder at our peoplings. What words? What doings? With ages I am filled. With cages, I am killed.
witch in the woods
I loved this deeply personal story from Meg Sefton.
Fugue
I remember an obsession.I built it myselffrom wishes to horses.Conceived in a hug and a blush,quickened by preening pirouettes,it seeded the fugue of my madnessand crashed in ignoble blackness.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ (We still talk) Photo by https://pixabay.com/users/johnhain-352999/
YYZ
Hey.. What's in that bag you drag? I have a box of my own. It's well known to me. So, what do you think is fair? Rock, paper, scissors, the loser opens first? I don't mind. I'm tired of its weight, and long to let the moths loose. Or, you know, we could just practice... Continue Reading →
I done something
It doesn't look much like you see in the movies. Well, depending on how long you leave it sit, it changes colour and gets a little syrupy. Marge put in for two weeks' vacation, so no one has thought to call here yet. Once I had cleaned up a bit, I took a few days... Continue Reading →
Shell game
The savor of a morning's dream, exhaled in a muscled yawn. And the thing resurfaces, still unresolved. And I am back to juggling, left-handed, with only one guess at a shell game's prize. "Can't sleep now!", the Chairman says. "Find this rock tonight. We'll decide who stays".
The way we are
If I tried to dream you out of whole cloth, what a disservice it would be. We speak in print, with proper letters and cadence. There’s ample time to consider a question or a statement, or to bid a gentle goodnight. I apply and project my idea of you, as a sculptor might, from raw... Continue Reading →
AreMyFeetOffTheGround 