
i puzzle am girl
jigsaw & ways
i sevenyear shattered
mask me pierced
cards they wrong
in draw of me
twisted & ways
i puzzle girl me

i puzzle am girl
jigsaw & ways
i sevenyear shattered
mask me pierced
cards they wrong
in draw of me
twisted & ways
i puzzle girl me
i am lost in shadow &
i weary reaching
fragments moon &
razor wire hold
up the sky

And, sometimes, it rains.
I pick up the rain-soaked branch, examine it and hope that by doing so it becomes dry enough to begin. That kind of hope is futile when the weald wants rain. And, today the forest wants the rain. I chuck the piece of firewood to the pit and wander down one of the myriad paths branching out from one of the myriad firepits of the wode, all of which are the same firepits and yet all have their own accord.
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One of the things I like to do to break up the creative cycle is to noodle around with music. As some of you may recall, I’ve played music in several different genres on a number of different instruments — bass, keys, guitar, 12-string guitar, mandola, drums/percussion (short-lived at the throne), and generally anything that comes my way (tabletops, trash percussion, violin bow on electric bass, vocal experimentation, etc.).
Below is the product of my noodling around last night.
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i everfade falling
behind and unreal
wept unseen
the fogs now
consume me whole

black stick twisted
of the night wood
shadow into shadow
turning right through
black stick twisted
rapping through brush
thorn track tapping
cracking them thick heads
come to me
run with me
kiss dark ever a
huntress moon

I recently received a message from a distant relative that I had contacted back in December. She seemed to be my best way to link up to my maternal ancestors via DNA because not only did she share the genetic origin that was distinct to my mother (unrepresented in my father’s DNA), but she had access to a huge family tree of 2500+ members.
She only now got back to me about the research I had asked her to perform using her access to the extensive family tree, having given her my grandfather’s name (assumed or otherwise), his approximate age (from court records), and possible residence or port of entry.
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send me your earth
root me deep and
raise my arms high
to sun, to moon, to sky
pour rain down on me
wash me clean of stain
stonefields under flint
send me your earth
tonight

your wonderland unexplored
north of stockinged lace--
please, don't turn out the light

petals fall from heaven
a rain in crimson
we each carry thorn
scratched grey of flint
loss given to tristesse
eyes given to cinereal
as pussy willow given
to ash, then to wind
lone cry in the woods
as to gloaming begins