between me and you voices scream, - everything is a dream buried in white shores, mountains and fields are between me and you, rivers, oceans are between me and you, the stars die between me and you, the gods are drowning in sighs, between me and you the sky splits in two, the whole universe is waiting, for the two wanderers to fall asleep,
voices cry, - dreamers Fly! everything is a F(l)ight! Fly!
You pushed her so hard, to fly as high as she could. As high as the mountains, as high as the stars. You pushed her so hard, though she can't, till she fell and broke her wings. Now, her broken wings could never fly, can't even reach the tree, she always dreamt to be.
The witches and waitresses of the Appalachians follow only one God. I have seen her on occasion carving midnight embers from her spine illuminating a divine magic found only in the season of the Gemini. She hunts by moonlight chasing the sweetest perfume of the mountains indulging in the whims of the lilacs. In my dreams she spins with the moon dancing circles ‘round my room. The dirt of which woman is made will be sifted in the hands of the Appalachian Woman God. And in my sleep I witness the creation of Wild Woman - a divine prophet setting the countryside ablaze in a rebellion of foxfire.
We rounded the corner, the Sandia Mountains glimmering like rust-colored prophets from the passenger seat. Far from The Flatlands, I traced the curves of Mother Earth with my fingers. I imagined the way her gentle hands could carve existence on a whim.