down to the bog
sweet loam mother
pitcher plants with laughing mouths
feathery liverworts yearning to be caressed
vivid mushrooms tall as a mouse, sunset vivid

in all,
she unfolds
and i exhale
to remembed
the gentleness
of life

what it is
for green-blood
to sing

white wings
gently move aside
the languid air,
lift
her
over the sullen
humid-kissed trees
to touch
the face
of the moon

( Read more... )

/ripples come
and ripples go
and ripple back to me/

Eve shook out
her memory,
set it out
to air

let the moths
taste
the night,
let the dogs
gnaw
their flute-hollow bones.

there was time enough then
for the shades
to sing her beyond the pale

but it was summer now,
even
in
January
(and Saturn be damned)

huzzah.

Happiness is Bread and Puppet!

warmth
spills over the mountains,
fills the valley
teaspoon at a time
of pure
honey
gold

(such a beautiful day)

Happiness is the rain falling in sheets outside my windows.

rise ( Read more... )

so blooms
the sanguine lotus

/so I went by
cause I had the time
told the northern light to keep shining
they told me to tell you
they're waving/

rain touches
everything

it slips
into the secret combs
of marrow,
whispers dust
into mud

it seeps
into my pores,
seeks
to mingle
with the silence
of my blood

dream ( Read more... )