Skimming the Dross

Skimming the dross
Off the top of a simmering pot
Froth of loss and withering shells
All that must be shed
To make a meal
Of fat and spice
Choices and cost
Fragrant and stirred with
A wooden spoon
From soil to consequence
As nourishment
Served to a fortunate few.

A practice in fire scrying

I once had a man with a soul
Nearly pitch black.
But boy, what a beauty 

he was to behold.

I once had a man who loved
The gold of others, so much so 

he never knew the value

of what he already owned.

I once had a man who was sweet
As he was plain;
The fence around his home 

was as far as he dare roam.

The man I have yet to know 

Is free.
Not one to be bought or sold,
He is rich with time and a curious thirst

For a woman who loves to be alone.

An Effigy for the Altar of Roshi's Summer

Out of the dank air
In a foreign city
Alone, with you 
I carefully crafted a new form of me:
The mother I said I could one day be.

Hours spent in silence
Behind spotless windows that never saw light
I toiled daily over the details of my design,
But I could not unlock the secret to make her smile.

One day, when her birth became futile
I burned her as an effigy
And if I could, I'd bury the father
You'll also never be.

Three hundred parasangs [and counting]

The deep churning [churning]
Turning [turning]
Of the shadow-black sun
From the bottom of the well
Wind moves leaves across
The circle view
Rains pouring down from above
Sprinkle his face
Beneath the cold, cold stone
A bones-knowing that a change
is coming.

Sketches for Neptune’s Dream (Yesod’s Mouth)

I am the spell
Walking into form 
The structures built
From behind a curtain

Among figures clad in black catsuits
Conducting the squeals of 

Freshly painted wood on castor wheels

Here, I stand

In the dark

Draped and crowned,

Ready for my cue.

Anima forma corporis

I know as only animals do
the scent of you.
Not the sweet smelling soaps, expensive cologne, nor the freshly laundered clothes—
I remember none of those. 
I know only as animals do
the scent of you.

Bright and odiferous as the waning sun 

Played into a song 

By the orchestra of my senses;
Excited by a tune so rare and new 
So acutely did it learn each note;
Each wafting reign—highs and lows,
To the mid-tones

Of secrets told through the eyes alone—

I know as only animals do
the scent of you.
But how can it be true,
Separated by miles and years,
I did just now trace it passing through?

The Shake

Last night as I slept

The subtle tremors of the Earth
Reverberated between my ears;
Whispered vibrations.

Frequencies rippled

In the liquid of my body.

In the morning, I awoke; 

Adjusted the frames on the walls.

Without warning,
I've changed my mind.