Three hundred parasangs

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—
No, I remember none of those. 
I know only as animals do
the scent of you.
Sour salt of night old 

Bed stale skin, hot and wet

Spiced with laughter
Bright and odiferous as the waning sun 

Through painted linen
Permeating the air

Played into a song 

By the orchestra of my olfactory senses;
Excited by a tune so rare and new 
So acutely did it learn each note;
Each wafting reign of its highs and lows,
To the mid-tones of unfettered trust 
And 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
Subtle in sound

As I slept
The tiny tremors of the Earth
Reverberated between my ears;
Whispering vibrations,
Frequencies rippled

In the liquid of my body.

In the morning,

I awoke 

And adjusted the frames on the walls.

Without warning,
I've changed my mind.

The Messenger (A Knight Carries; A King Weighs; A Queen Cradles)

In your childlike freedom, I possess you.
In our separateness is our embrace,

As a shadow to the sun.

Empty words fill the empty space.

A vision writhes in the primordial net

Of desire not yet made real—
At least, not to flesh.

I awoke from the dream with a wound I could feel;
One only ash and feathers could heal.

Still,

It is the heart’s intent.

Another mountain quest

Another Ark of the Covenant—treasure or vessel,

A locked vault. 

Wanted, sought.

Nested within 

An elegant chest.

reprosexuality

My lover has a secret door
behind the wet bar
to an underground library
with windows
ceiling to floor
into the shining black eyes of

enormous beasts

in a deep blue sea.

The creatures who visit me there
are eons old, all-knowing
and hungry
for company.

Pyrolysis

Six flames
sent
to one name
folded quiet 

and tight

enveloped inside

stationery

unlined—

blank but for
the charred tips of 

used matchsticks
which wrote charcoal scripts
to be known by
only their recipient.