yesterdays and used to bes
have drifted back to dream
and even the old songs seem
out of tune to me...
nameless hours spent drifting
between queen and crow
or crow and queen but
it is really all the same to me
drumbeat your pale hands,
my chest
for that is all i want or need
at the drawing of dream
To like, click comments or:
memory ghosts, my bride
at sentinel bone pale cliffs
standing over seasides
a knot twin tangled
to night crossed of moon
and apples adrift of air
long gone yet linger
perfumed raven of hair
shipping to shadow of morn
catching a song of you
cresting over wings in bloom...
To like, click comments or:
i'm not sure if
we managed to kiss
everywhere jopy tagged
his byline downtown but
we sure as hell tried
even there in the unsubway
with northern lights burning
out our heads with
drunken hands just trying
to hold on to the night
To like, click comments or:
we are all piano fingers
now, tickling ivory hours
slipping to oblivion
down that back hall
dust mote whispers ears
in the golden autumn sun
twining fingers under shadow
down that back hall
the notes faded ivory
lace dusted yellowed
photo moments slip away
down that back hall
To like, click comments or:
Takes one to know one, absolutely… But I’ve grown weary of the cynic.
It’s easy to be a cynic. It takes almost no effort at all to be one. Decide that the world is shit and there’s simply nothing that can be done about the matter. People who have a more positive spin on things are Dreamers and Sheeple. Those “in on the secret” walk into an echo chamber of like-minded cynics and we see a devil hiding under every bed. And, in that echo chamber, we tell each other that the devils are in cahoots and they are out to get us. To make matters worse, those devils are also between the sheets and every bed has multiple sheets and, just because those sheeple can’t see them doesn’t mean the devils aren’t at work making the world even more shit than it was to begin with. In secret. Then we remind each other: if you are not with us, you must be against us and you have therefore self-identified as The Enemy.
What claptrap.
(more…)To like, click comments or:
The old notes I found have gotten my thoughts pointing back in the direction of those kinds of studies again. This is probably obvious to some of you. While it can be difficult to find reliable, scholarly texts on the matter, I find that I learn something new almost every time I read the few texts out there that are supported by scholarship. And there is always those untapped journal articles out there that are less about meeting sales quotas than they are about serious scholarship.
(more…)To like, click comments or:
in the cauldron season
reconciling liminal me
standing bíle and center
both eyes to boiling sea
born of raven and apple
kin to the stone
thorn prick'd and blooded
given to bone
riding the crests,
sailing to home
To like, click comments or:
waves — lands — skies
center standing, i ash
holding to wights
& to wraiths
& to the very small
a headful of pastfall
hearth gathering
in the myrk & gloam
waiting for their coming
home
To like, click comments or: