Tag: POETRY
-
Viscous ‘+

oh the shore of excuses or sure the feeling of leaving myself in the drought though I ought to be leaving the land where I first met thyself + + +
-
– , Netherlandish Execution / Nikódimos

The gulch of the gods who had once painted time Now settle in dust to abstain from the climb The glory of man left in pious refrain Sincerity won in the god he had slain The robin sewn sackcloth turned grey from his youth ‘Neath the bark of his zeal lays the onus to truth…
-
álas Blood, –

Humanity purged by a lack of belief Through gnashing red wine and the grinding of teeth Drunkards assailed by the conflict of wheat Their mothers who kissed salt blood from his feet Comparing the oil on the fringe of her shawl A proportionate sin for the sons of the fall The march of god-men past…
-
Vitals

Life was on the edge of its seat waiting for a broken convention. To be capsized again in an eternal depth of floating freedoms. Sinking further into the abyss of my vitals. Mary strung sequins of a life not yet lived. I will go sailing. Gone are the notebooks of seasons won and here I…
-
Unbridled

The belting harmony of gradually building strings layered in practice and ill-composed restraint. A leader, a follower, and the muse. Gentle at the arrival of fresh blood yet an awakened power of infinite depth. Crushing foam leaving remnants of the air she kissed. An unfeeling balanced and emotional maelstrom of activity with unbridled grace. It…
-
The Møring Queen

The last prophet etched lines in the sand. Her mellifera axiom. All about her is quiet in the garden where she lay. At the sound of her mournful strung beating heart the Prince of Normandy hazards a doubt. The frailty he long wished to know exposed before him in the flight of a righteous rain; a…
-
Prince of Normandy

The great thief of Normandy brought cowardice upon the North mount of France. The guise of uncertain truth beguiled in the dance of the honeybee. A meat-eater whose grounds were the pasture of pines, a sacred place of old. A Queen dethroned. The sickle of death disguised by a familiar coat they had come to know.…
-
The Lyric of a Shared Winter

The weary traveler wrote for a grey knitted coat that she wore one day She made her home in the snow and for the winter she wrote for the warmth of May The romantics of life yet burdened by strife, that which made her shy In an old red cafe she left the thoughts of…
