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.

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

As a shadow to the sun.

I possess you.

Empty words fill the empty space.

A vision writhes in the primordial net.

Desire not yet form—
At least, not to flesh.

From the dream I awoke 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

There is a secret door

my love hides
just behind the wet bar

beneath glistening glass bottles

of amaretto and rye
if you open it, you’ll find

a library with no walls

only windows

into shining black eyes 

of enormous yet graceful beasts

eons old, gliding through a deep blue sea.

when I speak to them in the silence,

they come to visit me

singing songs of how sad they are 

to be all-knowing

and so 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.

Feedback signal

Among the pretty
delicate things
put up high on shelves
to shimmer in the dark

it is known
no beauty is spared
the camera obscura;

the careful observer,

though blessed with 

omnipotent sight
its fragile-glass eye overlooks

the time-smoothed ridges 

of cast brass bronze 
ornate raised relief,
golden filigree leaves,
the rippled lips, 
and fire-licked folds 

of an object

aware of itself

reflecting a quivering flame

in an ancient mold.

A Song for Sands

I heard a song
Clear as the pitch of a sword thrust into the air

A violent song
In the key of a triumphant will,
Hollow as bird bones
It rang in scales of surrender
Through a chamber of infinite potentials

Down marble breezeways and great halls of concrete,
Soft and quiet
As the shifting sand in an endless golden desert
Shaping itself
To collapse once more
Into a form of formlessness;
Its brief grasp

A moment of victory
Rewarded with disintegration 
And another chance to sing and dance 

With the decisive and changeable winds.

Zephyrus and Aura

I think to call your name.

“Be good,” you said.

So, I let the wind carry it instead;

The rustling chant of leaves
Is atonement, my sins appeased.

I listen then, carefully
For your response on the breeze.

Lark and Eagle: Call of the Queen

Pomegranate juice and eggs;
Each seed within the fruit,
Blooms into a new truth.

Bright as blood

Marked both the entry and the exit wound

Atop shards of glass, purified 

By the heat of the sun

I laid my body to dry.

Emptied now
In shame, I rest;
Precious liquid, stolen from me,
Not sold on grocery store shelves
Further evidence of your generosity.

Though the snake at my doorstep
Said you were dead to begin with
I study each day
To become a resurrectionist 
And love you once again, my Lazarus.

I hold your kingdom
The dove in my chest
I bid you to awaken
And return to its nest.

Borrowed with interest

The first cardinal of spring 

Perched himself on my tree,

A dragonfly kissed me on the cheek,

And a sunburn, finally

The shedding begins—

Empty the cabinets 
Water the garden.

I cannot say I’m sorry,
Nor will I ever beg your pardon;
But I’d throw a coconut in the ocean 
To see how it might grow.

Harvest

A golden maiden gathers the grains;
A silver reaper brings its decay. 

Yesterday I prayed for rain;
Today a tornado came.

Il Divino

Last night I watched his naked body

As it twitched restlessly in bed beside me
A silhouette directed by its phantom captain,

Stretched like canvas across the sheets
Painted in the static blue 
Light of a false moon;

I whispered aloud to soothe him:

        When winter comes

                 The sky plays rhythm 

        The days are gray and

                 Night seems unending.

        Dream of the Sun instead

                 Returning on his chariot 

        Then remember to forget.

In his artificial peace,

From the endless toiling 

A well-earned reprieve

For a man who never stops to see 

He already has all he hoped to achieve; 

Stroking the cool, pale skin
Of my Michaelangelo's bare bicep

I let him sleep.

Though I know what he labors for

Is hard to get

        Love like this

                 Is harder yet.

Conquerers

What is a man's seed
But the substantive result of a need
To see himself individually

Reflected in the flesh,
Separately.
Believing only in what we see
We worship him for his virility

And this supposed act of sovereignty.

Although we may think she can only receive
The power of Earth's viridity

Lies in her ability 

To summon all seeds, 

Invisibly.

It is out of disbelief we call it an act of cruelty

When she then rejects as easily
What she does not need

Leaving to bleed 

That which was planted carelessly

Without her blessings.

Severance

By decree
With this sacred steel
I sever all threads
And release us immediately
From the burden we share;
Your load no longer mine to hold
Mine no longer yours to bear;
Once more we carry our own.

May your body 
Rest in peace
Now it is completely free.

Trust I've borne the weight faithfully
Cared for, polished, and coated with gold leaf
The bronze bones of your Abarkuh tree
Pruned its limbs to forever
Reach upwardly.

May our bodies
Rest in peace
Now they are completely free.

Sycorax Speaks

Come, Ariel
While Prospero sleeps

From the sea, I summon thee.

Are you ready?

Calling all turnkey men.

Are you ready?

I’m not furniture, don’t take a seat.

Are you ready?

I’m no doctor, bring your own medicine. 

Are you ready?

I’m no mother, this bounty belongs to me, only.

Are you ready?

Come, Ariel
While Prospero sleeps

From the sea, I summon thee.