November 26, 2008
Come Out, Sun, Come Out!
Come out, sun, come out! Faster, faster!
It is very cold this morning.
Frost is crisp on my window.
Grass crunches underfoot.
The air sucks moisture
From my dry tongue.
Come out, sun,
Come out
Now!
November 3, 2008
Pseudo-Poem.
The sun sets.
Pinks, blues, and greens litter the sky.
There is a fish tapping on my window.
October 30, 2008
Occoquan.
The winds die down as you step outside.
The sky should be gray, but the clouds are bitter orange/burnt umber/something smoky like paprika.
It is strangely warm. (It was cold on the ride down, cold enough for your jacket – jewel-toned like a hummingbird – but now outside on an empty street with no real lights to speak of, it is oppressive, so you slip it off.)
You only catch glimpses of the river from here; there are other buildings – houses, a few, and shops – standing in your way. Watching like moai.
Surprisingly, you can’t see the bridge.
There are people nearby, people outside with you, but the road is cold (except strangely not for you) and dark (save for that eldritch glow of mundane houselights) and empty.
And the paprika sky still drags your eyes out towards the other shore.
And down the other side of the street, a streetlight that you could have sworn wasn’t there before is on, brilliant and bright, the clearest thing around -
- And as you stare at it, mesmerized like a rodent before a snake, the wind whips down the street like a long, long sigh,
and you see the head, resting not sixty feet up the road, with its open mouth swallowing the street and its streetlight-bright eye, and its long back curving away in forested hills across the river.
October 17, 2008
Thursday Morning, On My Walk.
Thursday morning, on my walk,
I passed two trees, and between them
was fog,
frosting the land behind it
as if it were ice.
A red sun sat in a branch.
Below that, framed perfectly,
a flaming bush.
Then I walked too far,
and it was gone.
October 10, 2008
Nonet.
Tweet! Tweet! Look – There is a little bird.
Flowers are shaking off the dew.
A squirrel scurries by us.
The sun breaks the darkness.
This is the morning
That we have made;
Rejoice, you,
and be
glad!
—–
September 17, 2008
Come On, Little Girl, Walk.
Come on, little girl,
walk.
You have already taught yourself to stand
by pulling yourself up on bookshelves;
do that again, and turn around.
Fling out your foot and grin
and stagger forward like a drunk
but with more enthusiasm.
Fling out your other foot.
Stagger,
fall,
but keep going.
Practice every day,
until you get your feet under you,
and then practice some more.
And sometime,
a long time from now, when your hair is white,
start walking.
And when you meet yourself coming the other way,
take her hands and say,
“Welcome home.”
—–
December 30, 2007
A Question.
I am the seed of the harvest.
I am the tomb of the sun.
I am the raven of battle.
I am the goddess who seizes the tongue.
I am the baying of hounds.
I am the east and the west.
I am the lady of the new year.
I am the torch of the gods.
I am the will and the passion.
I am the fire on the mountain.
I am the face in the forest.
I am the eye of the moon.
I am the wild faerie tree.
I am the voice of the sea.
I am the net of the winds.
I am the tamer of wolves.
I am the tides of the blood.
I am the sword of the law.
I am the water of life.
I am the queen among queens.
I am the word of honor.
I am the mask of the mind.
I am the sight in the darkness.
I am the snake in the tree.
I am the fairest of flowers.
Who am I?
Ghouls’ Alley.
The ghouls are coming
The ghouls are coming
With starving smiles and bloody mouths
They slither along on their bellies
Pulling themselves along on their hands
With starving smiles and bloody mouths
The ghouls are coming
The ghouls are coming
I think we are in ghouls’ alley
Where the dead men lose their souls.
