This morning I woke with some peace in my bones,
And smiled around at the chorus of souls
All feathered and furled in their small human homes,
tied together and curled up with sinew and stones,
All walking the world and drinking the air
With lungs on loan
And hearts that tear.
All blinking at birth,
All singing death’s moan,
All tethered to earth,
And never alone.
- Something In You
Something in you is changed,
Something wild and right:
The part of you that is animal shines
In the dew tonight.
and drink the midnight sap,
held holy, up, in ancient laps
of ash and elm
and dewy realms//
you rise and sink in cold and inky moon glow
you call out in a voice that only Crow knows.
You unfold your head and dance,
entranced with your own shadows.
- The Shadow, The Heart, And The Void.
My body speaks to me in dialogues of pain.
She is showing me
Where there are cracks in my sacred temple
She is showing me the memories of how they chiseled in
To the shadowy nooks
And were lost (but always there)
below sea level.
My body reaches up to me ‘You are the librarian of this castle.
You sweep the dust, and make neat all the nooks,
But you never stoop to see the words torn into the inner eyelids of the stones.
You wash the walls but you never read the graffiti.’
She says ‘Here is where you hurt.’
These are the holes you need to know,
But don’t deny them,
Because they let the moonlight in
And little moon-made flowers grow out of the cracks and crags the light seeks with its nimble silver fingers.
Make of the holes an altar.
Pour a salty scream or two into it, and then build the space up anew.
Find the most jagged places and press your lips against them until the skin gives way and when you see the blood, admire it for its color and the way it catches the light.
Carry a bowl to catch your tears in and love them all like little wishes dancing out into the great spiral
Of the night.
All the edges give you so much space
For flowers, and stars, and all the things of magic.
Keep these broken walls, but keep them neat and kind and clean
Sweep the dust and listen to her stories.
Call out to the night and finally agree:
We are dark when we are in shadow, except for when we dance.
The broken places are all welcome to dwell among the books and all the candles of the temple.
We will write them new stories and release this redblue fire out into the bundle of the sky.
Our doors will stay kindly cracked and the windows of our eyes stay open
But we will never
Razor sharp people
To dance within our pink hallways
- In The Beginning
In the beginning, there was a fury of noise
Black cloaked maidens spat ribbons of gray stars,
Arcing into brilliant rivers,
And shaking off their casings,
They fell across the empty blackness;
into a white, etheric dance.
In the beginning,
Ancient spirits peaked through invisible doors and
Plucked through thickets of stars
They pulled their black hems across the threshold-
They came: solemn, dark, demonic, godlike, gross, and gay-
The sorceress of night, the grandmother of Fae
They came one after another
With long and timeworn faces
To watch the unfurling of the Great Spiral.
In the beginning, you were there-
We sat dewy-lipped with silent smiles
In the center of a great seed,
Watching as All-Everything snaked across the sky:
Illuminating our new veins, lightning of each color
Stained our umbilicus with pregnant possibility.
The greatest drum pounded proud songs out into new ears
And the first tears were formed and fell across the face of the night,
Watering the seeds that would sprout into All-Life
We held our hearts and whispered songs
Into new and unborn palms
Breathing in and out anew
In the sacred tongue that filled our lungs and slipped from lips before the dawn of time.
It was there waiting for us,
And written in the sky:
The secret language of everything.
It is there still
It lingers silent in the center of the great eye
For us to slip across it,
To slide with impossible beauty,
To cry the first words….
To breathe fresh stars
Into the spiral anew.
- The Ritual
Fashion an altar of the souls of your feet:
Sticks and stones and ocean bones//
Save the thickest tears for the center.
Let your roots roll out from underneath you
Until you find the perfect place (you will know it)
It is untouched by the wind.
This is the place where you are tethered.
Lay your stories down here
Lay down all your wind and rain.
Pluck a twig from the right tree and lay it across just so.
Bleach your bones in the sun
One deep scream
Three drops of rich umber blood
It is finished.
- Welcome Back To The Land Of The Living
Welcome back to the land of the living
Look at how your hand begins to pulse pinkly now; do you remember?
There were veins and they carried moments into your heart. You had eyes and they used to open- see?
You climbed over the fence from the endless fields of once-grass:
Dry and wind-splintered now.
And the sky without stars held you down like a clean glass window.
You are a beetle, needle-pierced and pressed in velvet
You straddled the worlds and moon and sun both disavowed you.
Do you remember their stony faces as you floated through the gate?
We will take you back, because you left a small tea candle burning
On the sill of your brow.
You bent your will on the wind like a sail and when the storm came, you surrendered
We will take you back now into the hearth of life.
It is beating, do you remember?
You left us once, but only like a cow that gives its hide to a drum, and something small and musical still whispered up from the empty space once graced by the letters of your name.
silently, you pressed small seeds into the ground, and the burial mounds all stared up at you in wonder,
as little gray-blue petals pushed out of the pores of the earth; her ashen face now flowering sullenly.
We looked at you then and saw two wheels spinning in opposite directions.
We beckoned you back and you dully slid over the land toward the band that bundles earth to ever-after.
your leg became entagled on the metal brambles of barb, as you blindly made the passage over cold-dead-ancient stones.
You scraped your knees on scorched shadows and the skeletons of stories.
You slid away then,
And the people said it was over:
What was you
had gone home
Like salt from stones,
And the sun licked the blood from your bones,
And your lips slipped away with your moans
In blue shadows.
Your Split pelvis sank in the shallows. Life loosely lay across it, undecided.
Your teeth broke like ice on the empty nest of your breath.
Your eyes opened like pales of oceanic milk:: blinking at a vast new field of stars.
They spoke out, and in an ancient dance, they said to the lost council of everyone:
You are going to hurt
When you’re walking this earth
Crawling lost through this dirt
you will crawl bent-armed and backwards, scratching Lillith’s rhythms into the skull of the new world
You will carry the black moon in the hull of your pelvis and your womb will breathe your tears and all your stories out onto the earth.
Even your blackest seeds will carry life within their bellies.
We will take you back.
- Tarot And Tea
I am making soft and purple waves in this world; I am drinking in tarot and tea,
I am slicing my stories on silver slivers of Moon.
I am seducing myself
Back into Self Love,
Basking in a new womb.
Sliding into One Rhythm with my slow hips-
My twisted spine, my stained fingertips,
And all the stories spilling through my skin in black ink.
There is peace in the space between and breath in the stones
There is sun in your lungs and song in your bones.
- Fly Away, An Ode To Shadows
The moon’s white eyes see everything
She smiles silverly down on miles of darkened green.
(Sometimes I think the night is even darker than what we can see)
sometimes (I think) the light gets lost for years before it sees the sea
Sometimes I find lost patches of the gray and black, like glass in me.
I stare up to the dome of sky, I offer up a salty cry, I lick lost lips, kiss fingertips.
And find my broken home within.
I curse the night and nurse my hips
I clutch the wheel and glance at cold eternity
She stares her silver eyes right back at me-
The mirrored ceiling of the sky is laughing and bending,
It watches firey tears and lovers lie, as all-everything unravels, to coil back to One.
I travel up a lonely mountain, I fill my cup up with the sun
I shout up to the emptiness
And lay down my lost tongue
I find the first foot on the ladder
And I start to climb the rungs
The veil is lifted
sand is sifted
The sea is gifted to the ground now.
I am lost and I am found now.
I belong to the sea glass,
Scraping itself smooth
On the ocean floor.
I belong to the sand dunes and
To the fire at the core
I belong to twisted grace and this place could never hold my space for long.
I untie all my prayers and untether my blessings
I pray my soul up to the air and spread out in all directions
I float all up, up and away, and they never find a body
I peak through rain clouds in the day
And cherry pick through star clusters in the darkey-dark.
My teeth are stars strung across the ceiling
I sew the lights, the blackness healing.
The sky’s a lavish tapestry sewn up with all the threads of me.
((There’s a side of empty that you never see))
And there’s a pitch black-black within the sun (the darkey-dark of everyone).
It sinks: everything.
The sun and the moon go their different ways now,
And suddenly, there’s no one here.
But the women’s wombs are here to stay now
And the earth is pregnant with seeds.
- Prayer To Mother Isis
Dance with me
O sacred one
I will make an altar of the souls of my feet
And slice open the web of silence
Dance with me
O ancient one
I will hold the space for all the fallen stars
To crawl out of the mud and hug open the bright new dawn
Dance with me
Oh mother moon
I will fashion a drum of my heart
Dance with me
Oh, fill my womb
With sacred beats
And untold wings.
Let all the ravens unfold across my sun-bleached bones
Let all the cats stretch out across my soul.
Mark me, scathe me, make me whole
Let us catch all the tears in the sacred bowl,
And offer them up to the center
Queen ISIS I evoke you
Rub the mud from the mirror
Take us home to the shared soul
Where we will see clearer
We will dance the story untold
And make right the ripe unfolding.
We will Tether back the great umbilicus
And sing the song of remembrance.
We will feed the field of golden fruit again.
We will flow and we will ebb
The stars will fall into the web
We offer up our holy hands and the salt from our eyes
The story never ends
And the ink never dries /////
- They Came
They marched through biting cold and frozen mold with a halos of stars
the Sogging heads
they carried through the rain
Through the forest they came
Dancing through a thicket of stars
To tap their slender fingers up against my window pane
‘Til cracks spread like lace and spider web
Shadowing my face and tearing into my head
My window fell like icicles onto the forest floor
My face was naked
Cold and famous among the brush and all the nameless leaves
The slender fingers lingering, uncurled to me
My eyes were frozen shut but in the dark room of the nighttime I could see
The slender slice of moon bobbing; a buoy in the trees
The kiss of your lips and the swoon of your knees
Your opal eyes as you returned to me
With arms outstretched like galaxies.
- You Will Go On A Great Journey
I rolled past honey drenched hills
And fields sewn of golden soma
Under windows of the sky,
Beneath her eye,
I always wandered.
Unspooling golden twine,
My wound-up spooled spine-
Unwinding in its time.
(always I wandered).
Between great wheels with ivory arms, holding up the sky
I swam down rivers and snakes of tar, always beneath her eye.
Against the coast, I tasted ocean brine,
Sneaking like a small dream
Between these lips of mine….
I lost my train of thought
And fought the tears I sought
Between lost mounds
With tales of death
(their flowers spoke of resurrection.)
I rolled past painted signs with half dead faces pointing me in all directions.
Bold gods of many millennia frowned, sienna and umber up from the ground, their regal chins jutting into child-bearing towns,
And when I gave them my tears, they gave me the sound of the stream, crystalline, gurgling up from the mound.
(Everything is a cycle, child.)
between sties and silos,
scythe’s and halos
I swam wildly
Winding golden twine into a great hawthorn nest.
I hooked my heart and beat my breast
Great birds with hooked beaks gazed down and eyed me with mild fascination as I drove myself like a stake, into some heart-somewhere.
I wound up and down taffy hills, and rolled through cotton candy sunsets.
I tarried down juniper-lined streets and rocky high roads,
My eyes scanned for something unknown.
I always wandered.
I found myself in books and nooks off beaten trails
In rocks and rails
I lost my sails and all my screws
My honey too,
(my honey too).
I burnt the map and drank the sap
I followed the visions.
I lost myself.
I always wandered.
I tore down all the golden thread, let loose the ropes that held my head
I sat beneath a good wide tree and silently, found me.
No sign could point me to this place,
No twine can decorate my face.
I salvaged fallen stars and golden grace.
I hollered up at empty space
And wandered where no one could see.
Beneath her twinkling eye,
And her lips of lullaby,
I read the book of me.
I used to try to make myself so small
Like if I could fit into the cracks and crags
No one would see me
Huge and amplified
All my insecurities
All of my beauty
Would shrink along with me
And then maybe,
I wouldn’t have to be
Now, with my ideas
Now with my full moons and my love
Now with my wet eyes
Now with my thunder thighs
I used to try to shrink myself way down
A silver sliver that would slide into oblivion
Who would not have to stand at the grand podium of god and shine in golden shimmers of light and say
This Is Me
all my edges all my mounds all my might and all my insecurity
here I am, this is me, and
I am grown now
Responsible for my glory
I own my fate
And all this love flows from my hips
Again and again
Larger toward the grand union, the one
Here I am
Wet eyes and all,
Here I am
For all to see.
- On Leaving
When he left me, I was an uncorked bottle of primordial mud oozing down past the crust of the earth.
Flickering into earth worms and spreading my stench, like death, through millennia of dust.
I was the stuff of menstrual blood
A pre-lingual woman who squats in the dirt
Fermented heart and eyes like vinegar
Eyes like a jagged scream
Eyes just like no one ever knew me
-Eyes like the endless dunes of night….
And a mouth just as long and as loathsome as your tattered feet in flight
A Mouth as lost and hollow as the empty street light
That hung its heavy head like a bent (spent) poppy
and splattered shattered fragments of light across the night
Under the moon, by the river
The night we broke our promises.
When he left me, I was a shattered window pain
And the empty space of a forgotten name
The stars were all blinking out and it was I to blame.
When you met me
I was whole, as whole as can be
I was strong and miles tall but soft as a stream
And steady in my dreams
I was one woman and not half of one circle
For years that woman slipped away
Into the nooks and crannies of your neck
But she’s come to call on you now
And tell you
Thighs like sledgehammers and mouth like a diamond
Flanked by wolves and scabs of night
I slip across my shadow, and tear long holes in my soul but its real and it’s me.
You are such a slippery thing, like a gust of wind you ripple through my hair
My fingers tare across the air but then;
I sit within the pool of my molten soul, so hot and cold.
I wonder if you were ever really there at all.
This is the part where I grow strong.
- To My Future Daughter
When I first heard your heartbeat, it was drumming out across the earth
It started deep, down in red clay
And worked its way on up to birth
When I first new you were coming,
Old trees bowed their heads to me
They had held you in their roots, you see,
And couldn’t wait for us to meet!
When I first knew you were coming, the wind wept joyfully
She was an old, old friend of yours
And she had danced among the trees
For many centuries
Calling your body up from the dust and your soul down from the stars.
- My Emily
Theres a tree outside my window
And her name is Emily
Shes got curling pubes of mossy green and arms of ebony
Shes got yonis and stories and bark bitten memories
She’s got rooms in your heart even you haven’t seen.
Through the window pane she harkens me with fierce and barken beams
Can’t say how I know we share a name
But her lips!
They breath to me.
Whispering crinkly through the forest grounds, loose leaves leave and fall free.
Oh! My heart, my brain, my moon
- Shadow Work
I have walked beyond
The hungry gates of darkness
I have passed the bridge into the night
I have seen them
Swimming like minnows
Flickering, beating pin pricks of light
Floating with something more than gravity
Back into the tender eyes of source
I have called out to you
Across the long chasm of silence
Deep and wide and full of emptiness
I have shared my last loaf of light
I have walked
Naked and empty handed through the soul’s darkest night
My last crumbs fell across your shoes like stars
And hours, days, infinite moments, passed, as we grasped at fleeting light in the deepest patch of shadow
And here we stand hand to hand
Wide awake and open
Our veins uncovered
Our shadows outspoken
Twilight lingers where our edges touched.
I have read all the unwritten maps
Folding and unfolding
In every inch of my skin
I have walked through dusk and dawn
And I will tread this path again
I have wandered-empty-across the plain of darkness
And felt the weight of ripples
Ripping through reality like fingers tearing tissue paper
Echoing on every layer
The tide goes out
The tide comes in
The web is spun
The minnows swim
My eyes have seen
All my myriad lives spread out before me
Eternal, in every direction
The cycle unfolding
A circle, a sphere
We’re blossoming, molding,
Becoming more real
Multiplying faster and faster
The velocity tears the fear away, and the edges of your tears all fray, moaning into laughter
I have seen this, again and again
A million million stars hanging on to a web
A billion little pieces of blue glass
The darkest sky, the brightest stars
The night’s untold grey mystery:
She unfolds into day
The suns the rocks the stars the people:
We all explode
And fade away
I have watched the hills of many lives turn over,
Sitting on the bank next to you.
I have drank the brew and stirred the stew
I have faced the moon,
A stony mirror that hangs forever
In the ether
I have stood stone still
On the banks beneath her
Waiting for the tide to open up his arms of sunspeckles and seafoam
Waiting for the tide to turn
For the sun to burn
For the hills to bear their ancient bones
Waiting for the grandest celestial symphony
To loose the light and take me home
- Be Still Child
Be still child
And listen to the sounds of the stars
You came naked on the backs of the celestial storks
Writing fresh folklore with every foot step
You crept over the blue threshold
Through manifest and manifold
Through tumbleweed and milky way,
Starspray, and mothers milk.
You grew through eyes of needles and bundles of sage
You knew through rings of trees, through wings of bees
through amber sap and rage
You came upon this moment in the golden age,
Smoulder cheeked and comet eyed
was just the start
you lit a fire inside your heart
and crept through fields of sleeping stars
to hang your moon on the back of a mountain
and open up all your eyes with a gasp
clasping all the impossible moments with tiny hands
you drew a circle in the sand and
somehow, it saved you,
As you gazed through the grey dew
and gawked at all the silver strings
strung out between the mundane things;
shoeboxes full of dustmites and eternity
somewhere, in some imagination
as every layer of time pealed back
I was you and you were her and all the hands were dust to dust
And ether to ether
Grass and earth and stones beneath her
Ancestors and bones to teach her
Be still child
And know the nectar of nothingness
In the beginning times when you and I were seeds of stars our heartbeat was a future memory and the melody that the sun tells to the sky
Let this momentary lull within your skull be your long lost lullaby
Let the sun slide down your tongue
Let the moon be your window
Let the river run through you
The water is alive.
- The Country Of Dreams
Now I lay me down to sleep
The will of the goddess, mine to keep
She holds our lulling heads at night
And speaks through stars and firelight
I pray the mother gives me sight
And lifts my lips to drink in light
She emboldens the weak
And visits those who seek
and leak moonspeak through peaking slits in milky eyes
She rumbles in the echoes of your cries and mumbles through the gentle music of your thighs
She tumbles with your tears and bleeds with your births
We walk upon her, as the earth
she lies always across the threshold
just beyond the veil
In the long green country of dreams
Where the moon hangs boldly on the boughs of the trees
Her lips are wet with pearls and moss
She whispers her tidings into wanting ears
And soothes those who have loved and lost
At times she rises up; a burning light to behold
These times she stands on crumbling ground
Her long grey glances profound and old
She pears through silver eyes with primordial sight
She is our long lost guiding light
A wavering lantern
An impossible flame
As ancient as any sun
She remembers the days when her daughters and sons were as one
And beheld her their mother, the witch and the bitch, the number thirteen and the howling pitch
the early earth tone, that rakes your bones, and lifts the fog
have we all but forgotten the rotting of our cities? the people cry out and the wastelands burn
styrafoam castles melt into small impossibilities and a few muses muse and seek to believe
the last little embers can still make so much steam
The great mother bleeds, she sings and she seethes, the stars and seeds whisper of her return
The music of the spheres is ringing in your ears
A memory that is not your own passes silently into the marrow of your bones
And suddenly you know her, you’re born of her, her children all are your brothers and sisters
And she beheld them, her little children, standing in their own feet
She wore many faces
And striding the earth, her feet touched many places
she loved the world across all of the races
She strode across the magic lines that encircle the globe and bade blades of grass to bow down to her and the wind to whisper her many names
And even today she silently reigns
And we build skyscrapers and strip malls across her war-worn face
But in the nights, in the country of dreams,
Still all of us bow down and worship in the language of bones
And meet in secret circles of ancient stones
And when we intuit or empathize
her light peaks in through the tiniest window of our eyes
Into the paper plastic world of today
And slowly, as seeds sprout and cities burn
And we reclaim
And she returns
Long may she reign.
- She Was Beautiful
She was beautiful.
It was not in a way that you could fit evenly into a frame,
Or rate on a sliding scale
Her features sometimes disagreed with each other
One eye would be more open
One arm a little stronger than the other
But she was beautiful.
Not in a way that fits perfectly with pen onto paper
Not like a model;
All of her features adding evenly up to an all around ten
The way her body curled and bent and moved against the sky was not something that could stride a runway, or curl up comfy in the glossy perfumed pages of a magazine.
She didn’t have a waify body that all clothing hung perfectly around
She was short, and round, and imperfect.
But she was beautiful.
Her hair slid and curled in all directions and wound up at her waist.
There was a curling halo of mahogany frizz that framed her face
And when she danced her hair swung all around her and her body moved wildly like someone who had never unlearned the love you feel when you’re a brand new child.
The sun and the moon would shine their round faces down on her like new parents.
Sometimes she would get stark naked and dance with wild abandon, all the wildest parts of her untethered to any notion of worldly perfection.
All the bends and curves of her would flow rhythmically one with the air around them, her tiny hands and feet each dancing a dance of their own.
She would unbind herself from perfection, and in that moment she would find it, and it would find her.
There was always a little kiss waiting to be taken in the smallest crease of her smile
Sometimes, she would eat chocolate and write love letters to herself. The chocolate would wind up in imaginative places, leaving traces all over her body. The love letters would go straight to her hips.
Despite all, nothing could stop her from being herself. And nothing could stop her from being beautiful.
If you ever were around her, and felt the pure warmth radiating off of her,
Or if you ever looked her in the eyes and saw how they were chestnut brown in the shade of a tree but honey gold and ocean deep when the light pierced them, then you would know.
She had scars and hairs and tattoes lacing up her body like a network of a life fully lived.
She was soft and hugged truly, not out of necessity, but out of complete and utter love for you.
Whoever you are, she would hold you soft like a mother if that is what you needed. No questions asked.
She was beautiful.
- True North
I was communing with the moon when you came to me
I was stagnant, and static, and stationary
I was lit up like noon
On the backs of the dunes
When the sky whispered “soon”
And it opened its mouth
And it spit you right out
And you slipped around me
Like a halo round my head
Like ripples round my ankles
Like the ring around the moon
You are god and I am god
Our darkness is nakedness of the sky
Our veins are painted in the stars
Our heartbeat is a passing car
Is the only dark egg
That ever hatched birth
Here we are in orbit
In this strange universal church
And I know now was it is to be scared
The way I know a squared and be squared is c squared
The way I know sometimes you have to scream to whisper
Everything slips away.
Our days are empty pages
Tearing through celestial phases
We are the pulse of the asphalt.
And the question mark is our temple.
We are broken and duct taped and bruised
We are the cult of the confused
Here we wander bath and forth
Tracing the veins of our dog eared maps toward our own true north
And every once in awhile I look at you and remember that you are me and we are god
And our souls are little embers burning endlessly
In the vacuous heart beat of eternity
You are a tiny torn thread in the tapestry
And You are exactly as you should be.
- Freely my soul
I called out across the echoing fractal cracks of myriad deserts
I called out to the wind
To blow me to my True Path
I called out to my feet
To show me the way.
I called out to emptiness,
to awaken the vines in the path of my spirit
I called out to my shadow self with her blade in hand, to clear it
I called out to the night
To sew fields of shadow that bear seeds of light
To carry me home in the basket of her cradle
Across the moonlit sky
When I was a babe in the celestial diamond’s eye
all that I knew was this magnetic ocean of love
And I was a dew drop sliding back in from above
With no expectations
I was not the pigments of my skin
I was not the shape of my flesh
I was just a scratch of ink on the parchment of forever
In the myriad books of bones and stones
Buried in the molten hearth of our mother earth
And all the words were written by the same hand.
And all our lives were momentary lines rippled in the desert sand
And the wind swept the sand to the plains
But the grains remained the same
And the ripples melted away
But the space they held would stay
All the moments were spoken in the language of stones
And when I hear the stars murmuring through my bones
Freely, my soul
Chooses to go home.
- The Last Goddess
Rise up fork tongued women
Rise up from the ashes of your lips
Rise up thick snake of hips
Rise up and slake yourselves on the beaches of abandonment
Rise up and shake yourselves at all the people
Here is the church and here is the steeple
Here is the goddess
Naked and feeble
And crumbling with strength
a marble statue missing both arms
But not the lips
And not the hips
The last pagan
The last good witch
The last matriarch
Her stories are faded but her naked is stark
And Yes, they’ll tell a story to spin her in
to the old testament but when the try to close the hard covers her hips just wont fit
She’ll be bubbling and bursting
The good book with tits
She’ll be speaking in tongues with her eyes little slits
And maybe then we’ll remove the goldspun wool from our eyes
And we’ll realize that ten billion lifes have been wasted and people have died
Because there’s no sin in nature and the patriarch lied
Rise up long lost goddess
Make way for your fits and fears
adorn your tits with ash and tears
Scream the scream ten thousand women have screamed over ten thousand years
Who are we
Our tears our fears our death cries
Stretch around the earth
And circle back to birth
we are all dark temptresses
orchids and coy fish
forlorn and then some
with lilly guilded forked tongues
embrace your mistakes
embrace your long and tangled hair
the red red dirt beneath your toes
Scream to the moss
To the moon
To the crows
Rise up and be purged of original sin
Rise up and love the earthy topsy turvy tangled curvy container you’re in
Rise up moon mama
The last pagan
Rise up and follow the dream that you’re after
Rise up and scream til the scream becomes laughter
- I, Too, Shall Come To pass
by Emily Kell, 2012
I woke into my sleeping and dreamt that spores of myself were spreading somewhere in another dreamscape where
it was not fall in Savannah:
an empty space between the seasons
where siren screams did not ricochet against the sidewalks and the rooftops putting invisible creases in the map of the city where sobs gathered to run like rain drops to the gutter
and the sound never disperses but is fossilized
and hangs somewhere in the humidity
an ossified and collective emotional scar
even the sunflowers could feel it and they hung their pretty heads
like overripe southern bells
I felt the weight of my ephemeral skin sagging against the rusty wheels of the world
and prayed to the Great Blank Space above
that we were not the formless persistence of words
that drains the grains from our hour glass
not the afflicted knobs that filled our craniums with godlessness
not the flesh that filled our shoes
not our lips of ash
our pits of smoke, and skins of sin
the Great Blank Space rolled open for a moment just to tell me no
you are not asleep
you are not eternal
wake to the green dawn of great death
as the moon projects you like a needle on the record of yourself
- A Glass of Tea
by Emily Kell, 2012
shelved away in my bed, scratches of suburbia fading from
false red wood window pane
expanding beyond my head, beyond my labyrinthic brain
penetrating the soft impossibility of skull
dipping into collective to resurrect the Lull before
wayward tourists disguised as themselves
on the sidewalk of East Park Avenue chatter
in an accidental echo of the Universal Buffoonery
hungering, in some secret stomach, for clarity, for the
belch of eternity
and I, in my bed
coiled like a nautilus
slowly peeling away from the flesh
and into the smoggy city of Nostalgia
on the shrink wrapped journey
of flacid clock hands
to be tried
for conspiracy of lineareality
of monstrous empty space crouching in vein laced hides of oculi
flailing tongues and prongs and rogue addendums in
of abalone luminescence
before unpinning myriad of selves from protoplasm to melt into
and sink in star spangled puddle of time
back in tent now-
redwoods breathing and weaving me into the fabric of freedom
on asphalt tongue of serpentine highway with the ever allusive exit sign
and the gray nipple of moon rolling in its tunnel of sky
back in liquid cave of ovum
back in cradle
its laughing cunt exhaling death
into the bowels of mystery
into the womb of night
into the emerald metronome of moldavite
in teeth of quartz
blinking splinters of
in Temple of Collective
back in thirsty skulls of youth
in ancient wordless Seed of truth
dissolving and revolving from and into
to window, bed, and body
to merlot and sourdough of breathing relic of
back through monument of impossible mortality to greet
illusion of death in the parking lot of plight
back to nautilus blanket shelf
through robotic fields of cattle
seeking vision without sight
- You Were Born
You Were Born Revised Emily Kell 2012
You were born from
The shudder of an orgasm
Bliss conceived you as you came from one darkness to the sweet next
You were born, innocent and slippery
round and unashamed
A perfect avocado seed of a woman,
All that you knew was love.
You were soft
from the down feathers of your black hair
To the water that ran through you,
And soon would learn
That people love
To shit in soft places.
They couldn’t understand how your umbilical chord was in tact,
How you were still tethered to sweetness.
You were born
And given everything,
And spent years in the milky fog of that guilt guilded gift
A little bit each day
you would open your eyes under water,
relish the chlorine.
you need to turn your mew into a roar
you need to sharpen your baby teeth
and learn that not everyone
is a hugger.
you need to build a burlap skin against the tyranny of dull minds
you are flowering
you need to tell your sweet rolls,
that you love them.
Remember the white plastic ward
With its knobs and sobs
The way the ocean remembers the storm.
it is okay to be soft now,
it is okay to be beautiful.
You can scream and bleed and smile.
You are your own mother.
Circumpunt of sweetness
The parentheses of your hips are wide to hold
The pregnant thoughts within them.
You were born
And no one can take that away from you.
- Ode To Moon
Ode To Moon Emily Kell 2012
You pool me in your palm
And drop me through the head of a needle
Through a machinery of tides
Through cusps and ides
And weave my tweed
Through any tapestry you like
You wax me, wane me
Show me to myself
A stony mirror
In the ether
- Life Pulp
Life Pulp Emily Kell 2012
Purple spines, like vein laced leaves,
mark the parchment of our hides
and the ink never dries
from the ink wells of my cuticles
from the ink wells of your eyes
from ashes of the feather
from the bossom of a bonzai
where we once twisted together,
Naked by nature,
Vine by vine,
and dropped our colors from spoon to cube
To melt our pelts between each others fingers
And leave a watermark that wouldn’t ever dry.
Light bulb moments made of moss,
Mushroom spores in each other’s palms,
Singing moonlit psalms in the language of rain.
I could wash my hair forever and still there your little finger tips would dwell
Ginger with their braiding
And deliberate with their spell
From the ashes of the feather
To the ink within my well