THE LIGHT VANISHES

Summer had suddenly
gotten old.

Shadows nibbled at the light
limping along by an orchard wall

biting it
to the bone.

The light seemed to wince.

An apple fell to the ground
as if on cue.

Forever seemed somehow
shrunken.

Time withdrew into itself.

The house was talking
to the wind

in its creaky old voice about
the this of that and the that of this.

The wind saying nothing now.
Keeping sthum.

Inside... a book
lay asleep upon a table

waiting to be awoken
by a child's hand.

The words now
allruntogetherbit

ready to jump back
into their proper places

take up their position.
when called upon.

Even the pterodactyl
had its eyes shut tight

in the drawing of it
on page 42

flying in pre-historic
black and white.

I was amazed to find
I owned

all these aunts and uncles
that were all mine!

I even had a cute cousin
called Mary Frances who

always made me
smile.

A mottled mirror
had flung itself upon a floor

scattering itself here & then
there in a loud "oNo!"

Still showing the world
its face

in many tiny
little seeings

that could
draw blood.

I breathed the summer in.
I breathed the summer out.

I would never again be
as old as I was now.

It was the last time
I was 9.

Lay me down on golden song.
To be gently kissed by a silk breeze of cold.
Shivering trees are watching.
Yellow orange lights,  flickering.
Giving a coziness.
Inviting togetherness going into the white.
A warm hug is needed as is a mug of hot cocoa.



Shell✨🐚

I don't count on happiness

Or expect perfection

The day comes and goes

With a shallow ache of rejection

I paste a smile on my face

Tell my parents I had a good day

Listen to loud music to hear the noise

Get stuck between the bathrooms for girls and boys

Questioning myself and my choices

Ignoring the whispers of condescending voices

I try to be helpful... Try to be good

I use my manners like any good kid should

I hide behind fake cheerfulness

And hide from the world with fantasy

Video games and anime consume my days

While I hide from the sun and its blinding rays

I spend so much time being someone else

That slowly but surely I lose myself

THE DEVIL'S ****

He straps her to the table
before him

(a sacrifice on an altar)

of the Arrogance
of his Ignorance.

Turns to the tools of his trade
neatly & almost piously arranged

on the table
behind him

still stained
with the chicken’s blood

from this morning’s preparation
bubbling in the ***... forgotten now.

He is a masterPricker
as they call his sort about here

half in awe & fear

of the Witchfinder General
and all his kind.

He is angry at her resistance

tears off the ragged burlap shift
that covers her

shaves her
from head to pudenda

examines
her

from top
to toe

with the aid of
a giant magnifying glass

for any blemish or birth mark
(an oddly shaped wart)

that will betray her
in all its innocence

pricking her both
with the long needle and the short

and ahhh...

the birthmark
refuses to bleed.

He smiles at such
an obvious sign.

Her denials
screaming uselessly

against the locked
door of his mind.

but now his fingers
probe

sensitively searching
for the Devil’s ******

concealed within her
to nourish to suckle

her
toad familiar.

And yes how proud he feels

to discover hidden within her
privy shaft

obscured by her
female *****

but not to the
empirical mechanics

of his fingers
probing...probing

as plain as the sun that goes around
this Godly Earth

...the Devil’s ****.

And so, by this fleshly
mark of being

Woman

she is
condemned to be
witch.

And so it is so
in these “the burning years.”

I cry for her
as I reclaim her

from History

(so many thousands of her)

hold them
all

(in their holy terror)

all such suffering
beings

in my arms
in the dawn

of this new
morning

keening
for them

stroking their hair
(closing their eyes)

as tenderly
as if

they were my child.

and I was left alone with their screams
and my imagination
and the pines were full of sap
and the wind blew gently
and the clouds did what clouds do
and the houses were there
and the cars were parked
in the driveways and on the streets
and the people walking by looked more affable
than the ones I grew up with
and I imagined myself
living in their houses,
riding around in their cars,
taking walks with them on their streets
because when the beer can snapped
I knew a beating was waiting for me
over something I did or did not do,
it didn’t matter, it was just my time
and when it’s your time, it’s your time
and after the streetlights came on
everything went black
and the cicadas were silent
and I walked back into the house
because now it was my time
to scream.

Ballerina clouds dance overhead
elephants, rabbits, pigs, and bears
Pirouetting here and there
with an alligator nipping at their heels.
When quickly appears giant hands that come
to gently clear them all away.
And the sun suddenly shows its face
as it comes out to play.

The beach in winter is my crying place
The shower will do
Sometimes the car
The tucked-away toilets at work
They are containers
But the beach is
My accomplice

We mourn together, weather gives us room
The wind assists, insists that others leave
If some resist, enlists the sand to
Reinforce the clear command with
Stinging pressure, stresser that the
Beach in winter is for us
And us alone
To sit
And safely grieve

AND THERE WAS ME WITHOUT AN I

Time dawdles
stretches out the crash
to an infinity of now

casually I watch the car
crash into my side
as if it were someone else's story

car runs red light
the crash about to happen
taking...its...(time)  

I watch my door buckle
as if an invisible monster
wanted to eat its way to me

time...finally(stops) :
I fade to black
karate chopped from luggage from the back

I drink up unconsciousness
thirsty for
the oblivion it brings

the world leaves me now
even my thoughts
don't even know me

I am no more
a me
without an I

'You knocked..? '
Death asks politely
'No..just...passing through! '

Life swims back to me
from a distant
horizon

'Hey! ' shouts Life
'It's me! '
'Do I know you? ' I ask

*

Kinda weird to see your own death coming at ya and to dive into the blackness of the nothing only to resurface back into the light and a human voice asking you "Are you alright?" And being polite you say "I'm fine...fine!" Such polite lying but there we are pushed back into the good old world with time back again ticking on the clock. And to think...there was me...without an I...about to become nothing! That's...like...really something!

you wrap the stars around my shoulder blades
place the night on my lips, listen for summer
and whisper day-moons and gothic hills,
bend like the willow dreams of old, sad songs.
your ghost is the rhythms of a sigh,
is a planet stunned by the dark-lashed sea of skies,
an enigma where the pools empty turquoise
and topaz, where we fall - how we fall.