Away, not home,
this continental heat.

The air pretends
this North Atlantic rock
is worldly

The smiles of the natives
lean manic
as we clutch at multipack lager
and disposable charcoal,
grasp at the living myth
of a cloudless sky
and give ourselves to these gods

Our worship sees us sacrifice
meat and skin,
both burnt to early hours regret
and delicate, bathroom sorrows

A sporadic bacchanal
whose scarcity ensures
that be it working week,
weekend or holiday,
feverish
we’ll pay the tithe

Sunstroke and/or hangover
prove penance for our lapse
from the frigid, three bar
Protestant norm,

but these exotic gods will beguile again
even as the blistered skin still peels

It is written in the runes
unveiled by the maypole ******.
When the darkest kiss
meets the storm of light
on a midsummer’s night.

The sisterhood has gathered.
Fog and dew, euphoric moves.
Chanting, flaunting ivory skin.
Feel the pull of our dance
the taunting of our calls.

Baccanal cries of ******.
Bringing down the silver tears
of falling stars to heal, to still
the wounded souls, the lost
with a swill of magic dew.

Moon daisy,
Buttercup
Count the number,
hold your tongue.
Catchfly and Baby’s breath
say naught to no one
keep the faith.
Delphinium
my steadfast knight.
Bluebell and yes,
Forget-me-not.

Gathered by the crossroad
of yesterdays and tomorrows.
Gentle flowers sacralized
s e v e n for the magic number
to seal the vow eternally
of my love everlasting.

Too soon the dawn will break.
Hurry do the last of spells.
Hop over n i n e fences
kirtle tied around my waist.
Don’t look, don’t speak
just hold my breath.

No time for sleep, not yet
I mustn’t forget the rite itself,
that will grant my dreams to unveil.
What’s written in the future
s e v e n blooms under my pillow.
and finally I’ll see...
...the one

[sweet pungent synthesis]
always with dank hysterical women demonstrating the distilled liquid elixir of their many years in isolation.
they are the nitrogen-rich followers of an ultraviolet shrine, such is
a photosynthetic life-form, reacting/enacting/enhancing.
they reach for holes in the moon &
on four-legged fumes carbonize seeds into sons and daughters. birth/
life.
all flowers ache forth to display color and/or
their varietals of hairy oil content.
to dip psychotropics, thus the worship of brain frequency and light.
fresh progress,
the sugar crystal compounds impacting, intact, and swollen.
trichomes, like huddled little masses of grandbabies bowed upon the ridge.
she drips
in dance and derives her form from properties plucked by time,
by moms, and pops.
to discover is to find purity in a moment.
pure travel/ pure
death.
this growing force,
this apparition of sound within me. organics.
organisms bound by great beauty and failure.
sense not the vivid panic, or the shock of last black, but hold true
to an inner joyous/outer motionous, tessellation that is, this
fluttering of us.
us suit of hearts.
suit of leaves.
the fusion of two bodies far beyond substantial pressure.