Gretel Lost in the World

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no dragons burn and pillage

even when lost in metaphorical

forests. the children’s screams

in the candy houses next door

are real enough not to be just

symbols in a jungian melodrama

analyzed casually over a cup of tea.

there are no stories to hide within.

the steel-eyed king and queen

handing down impartial justice

never existed anymore than the gods

who were used to justify raw power.

Whereas the black-helmed men

with polished shields and truncheons

still freely move down city streets

searching for someone else to kill.

(October 12, 2018)

Desire for Desire

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He pointed out the apple.

She naively bit her lip, but

not her tongue, and said

Wouldn’t that be wrong?

 

Who says what’s wrong,

he said, then laughed.

If one is good, and one

bad simply in saying,

 

should the word hold sin,

or the one who speaks

into division? Do words

so stage our reactions,

 

or are our words an apple

offered up in innocence?

 

(October 7, 2018)

wicker man

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first bits

then fragments

fall away

like branches

on fire

crack off

until

wholly ash

 

which wind then

wisps to air

adrift

incorporeal

a spirit singing

in each breath

 

(August 9, 2018)

 

 

 

 

We Walk to the Witch’s House in the Wood

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It was a place to go.

It promised us more.

The past had nothing,

but anger and fear.

 

The witch smiled,

because we knew

she was a witch,

but entered freely.

 

Compliance, not cages,

held us to her.

It was easier to

submit, than not.

 

We live in fear

of a better world.

 

(June 2, 2018)

Hubris

daedalus

 

“Gods make their own importance.”

–Patrick Kavanagh

 

All the passions, indecisions,

And inarticulate fears

Which seize you randomly

Throughout the day,

All the sudden moments

Of chaos, and clarity,

Of lust, anger, and charity

Are more than you, yet only you.

 

Reason cannot hope to contain

The gods’ whispered instigations;

Wisdom’s inherent in your skin,

And transcends all interior

Motivations like accomplices

Waiting nearby for the fall.

 

(January 23, 2018)

no one leaves the cave

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make a random reference

to some allusion other

than the one here now

 

and if one misses it

from ignorance or

one’s own obscurity

 

the dead grey eyes

hear in the fissures

more than conceived

 

in any normal conversation

in which one’s a part

minutes arrive like hours

 

and all the inhabitable

caves encompass the other

 

(January 17, 2018)

Drawl

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A time to speak up

 

Think of it

Not

As punctuation,

But rather

Dialect, decorated

By accented diacritical marks.

 

If I speak in such

A manner that’s averse

To the way your words wander,

Perhaps you should listen

To how variations

Play across our story:

 

Resistance exists

Along the blade

Of consonant’s hiss and click.

As the oldest god

Has whispered before:

The word changes the world.

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(December 20, 2017)

In Time

I am neither of the tree,
Nor near the tree—
I have no center to hang
Like an apple about to fall.
I am tangential to most,
Including myself—
Boundless, unchained,
Without meaning—
Alone, without
Lamentations.

(September 20, 2017)

A Curtain Forms and Rips

I drop an alpha
Bit now without
Thought of what
Will grow within
A part of who
I was turns to
Who I transform
Into tonight
For now I’m lost
In liminal locations
Aslant to all
Proximal thought
With this bit of sound
Our fabric’s torn apart

(July 25, 2917)