Poetry

  • Big

    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

     

    So huge

     

    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

     

    I return

     

    Larger toward the grand union, the one

    Here I am

    Big thighs

    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

    Quietly

    Into the nooks and crannies of your neck

    But she’s come to call on you now

    And tell you

     

    I’m back.

     

    Thighs like sledgehammers and mouth like a diamond

     

    I’m back.

     

    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;

     

    You’re Gone.

     

    I sit within the pool of my molten soul, so hot and cold.

    You’re gone.

    I wonder if you were ever really there at all.

     

     

    This is the part where I grow strong.

     

     

  • We Are Praying

    I

    Was a babe

    Blinking, spinning

    Tumbling out

    The soft machine of skin

    Gave way to me

    Again, again

     

    I was a babe

    Not knowing the course teeth of womanhood

    Of course

    Not knowing

    The delicate balance of being and showing

    Of grounding and growing

     

    I was a babe and unafraid

    My only point of reference was sweet love

    No words plotted to box in my existence

    To limit my reverence

    To create a fate for me

     

    It is late now but I see

    That there’s still that babe in me

    The round pewter and cream

    The tarnished varnish of the dream

    The drizzle splash and gleam

    The soul that lives between

    The skin,

    the bones,

    the dreams;

     

    The most authentic bit of me

    The ends that justify my means.

    It is dark now, the veil is thin and I can see

    The immortality in me.

    The rounds from ground to sky to earth

    The mound, to spirit, back to birth.

    Nature, in her immortal beauty, reclaims your breath

    Again and again

    You return

    You reach a pinnacle:

    A life that burns

    With purpose

     

    You are newborn and anointed by the milk of stars

    I am newborn, I am space worn

    We are wartorn and this world is ours.

     

    I am a child born in bones and skin

    I am a child of stardust virtues and of earthly sins

    And one of many

    Scrying for stars in my tealeafs

    Screaming out between the lines of injustice and corruption

    Dreaming out between the minds of lust and trust and loving

    Screaming and crying

    Dreaming and scrying

    Learning how to live between the birthing and the dying

    Learning how to take the wake standing, sitting, lying

     

    Learning

    how to breath

     

    underwater.

    Coming up for air and breathing stars and musk,

    Between the cycling dawn and dusk.

     

    This is me and I am

    one of many.

     

    we are the warriors of the new dawn

    we are praying to keep moving on

    we are praying for disclosure

    we are praying for change

    we are praying to remember

    the wisdom of our ancestors

    our prayers burn the world like embers

    and open up the ancient eyes of earth

    this fire turns the land and offers up rebirth

    our people are the hopeful menders

    the fire tenders

    our people are moon people

    our people are bone people

    our people are sun people

    our people are stone people

    our people are lying in the grass of self discovery

    whispering prayers into the creases of each other’s palms

    our people have strong hands that are lined in secret psalms

    our people are a strong people to inherit the earth with all her bounty joy and pain

    and we are praying to ourselves and all those prayers gather like rain

    we are praying for our health

    we are praying to ascend

    we are praying for salvation

    for the hate and war to end

    we are praying for creation

    we have a tear which we must mend

    we are praying for the means to be justified by the end

    we are praying to the everything, which is woven in impossible oneness, and nevertheless,

    is.

    We are praying to resurrect heaven on earth

    Not for some, but for all

    We are praying to the earth and to the moon and to the air

    We are praying to each other to hold the light and take the stages

    We are praying for our mothers, sisters, brothers,

    For our lovers, for the witches, for the moon strung mages

     

    We are not praying for some far off god to take a hand and mend the tear

    We pray to the spark in each of us

    To the thread that connects each spark

    We are praying to tear down the curtains and light up the dark

    To bring the babes, marching and dancing,

    Scrying crying,

    Snaking and prancing

    Out of the dark ages and into the newborn light.

     

    We are here to light a path

    We are here to hold the door

    We are here to stop waiting

     

    We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.

     

     

     

     

  • 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

    My stars!

    My Emily.

  • The Trouble With Being A Sensitive Pleaidean Soul Bourn Into This Earth To Help Transform It

    Oh moon and stars

    Oh great mother mystery

    Oh higher self, oh god in me

    Why have you left me in this place

    Dropped me from the sky

    A round peg into a square hole

    What will this disgraced land teach my ever living soul

    And why could I not learn those things

    Safely in your starry bossom

    How can I blossom

    With this concrete lid

    Orchids never grow on the sidewalk

    And I may never know how to talk the talk and walk the walk

    I may never wax fierce and fit the mold and pick the lock

    And I may never have that roar

    That all my friends think I need

    I may stay forever a

    Meak green unsprouted seed

    Beneath a burning sidewalk

    I absorb each footfall

    And people say hey little seed why don’t you scream

    And bear your teeth

    And scratch

    And I say I’m a fucking seed I have no teeth

     

    Why do I burn burn burn

    And yearn for a home I can’t remember

    Why do my words

    Catch in my throat

    Like dying bees

    Or sizzling embers

     

    Oh mother

    Oh father

    Oh People magazine

    And vogue

    Why have you taught me to be mild and meak

    I’m going rogue

    I’ve got to speak or ill explode

    There’s hatred in the water

    They put fluoride in your dreams

    There is poison in the medicine

    There is runoff in the streams

    There’s commercial propaganda splenda spam wam bam thank you ma’am chemotherapy media mcdonalds bullshit

     

    There is Misunderstanding.

     

    Misinformation spreads like oil over the masses

    There is a big bleeding hurricane of racism

    That everyday, gets fed

    The icebergs are melting

    The rainforest’s dead

    And everywhere

    Republicans roam the earth

     

    And I feel this

     

    I feel all of these

     

    From my little seed

     

    Beneath the side walk

     

    Now I’m sprouting

    And you’re doubting

    The substance of what I say

    You stupid genius

    With your fingers on the keys

    And your insults up your sleeves

    And your opinion

     

    Come at me

     

    A crack forms along my outer shell

    I am sprouting

    Leaves curling into fists

    And ascending into this mockery of daylight

    Come at me

    Lets ascend together

     

     

     

     

     

  • 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

  • Dear Human

    Dear Human,

    You will get a heart. It will be made of butterflies and barbed wire.

    And earth and moon and sky and break ups and forget me not’s and the little bell of Babies cries and tiny moments and golden eyelashes lacing the lids of your first Love’s moon blue eyes

     

    It will bleed and break and mend

    And send you over heaven’s fence

     

    It will tear your fucking world apart.

     

    You will hold up the carnage of your heart in your hands and think how you can never love again

    But those moments will wane away and in time, your feet will find you at a door

    The door will unlock a room in your heart that you’ve never seen before

     

    In the room there is a box with a primordial spark

    And it never goes out

    This light never goes out

     

    Dear human,

    This is what being human is all about

    We crash into each other like bits of flint

    The heart sparks and burns and lights again

     

    Dear human

    LEAN IN

    Wander off the middle path

    Decompose your composure

    Squander your security until your left empty with only eternity and a map in secret language

     

    Dive into this

    Naked, head first

    No toes in the water

    This life is meant to be lived

     

    Dive into this

    Write the story of your life in dew drops, tears, in blood and kisses

    Dance in moonlight in the margins

    Grab somebody’s holding hand and waltz right off the page

    Hook your heart around the moon and lean into her gaze

     

     

     

    When you look up at the stars you are watching ancient light

    And those same stars that illuminate your sweet hands in the night

    Course coolly through your veins

    And blink bright out of your skull

    There is a lullaby in the hull of your heart that only you can tell

    And there is a darkness in your heart that’s dark as dark

    And that is just as well

    There’s a box that you can make in life; your own special hell

    But there are boundaries you can break in life and places you can dwell

    Where each breath sits up resoundingly astounding me as well

     

    So gasp

    Cry

    Breath

    Wipe your snot on your sleeve

    Fuck and bumble

    Sing and rumble

    Pound a drum

     

     

    Every hue of you

    Each facet

    Is alive

    In this universal hive

    We’re all swimming through the spark plug moon dew sky

    Honey drenched and dripping

    The whole place vibrating and rippling

    We were running; now we’re tripping

    We were gulping, now we’re sipping

    We both drank the drink that dreamers brew

    From sip to sip

    From moon to you

    We are crossing this ocean from lip to lip

    One way or another

    I hope this trip

    Brings us close to each other

     

    Just as close as we could be

    When I am you and you are me and we

     

     

    Are made of songs and light

    We are made of sound and sight

    We are logic, love and fright

    We are magic, data, heartbeats and heartbreaks

    We are Meta, moon, sun and might

    We are tarnished burnt and bright

     

    Dearest one

    Throw down your heart and let loose this light

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • Suburban Holocaust

    In my heart, there is a dark steep holocaust

    Where suburbs grow like smoky jagged crystals

    Looming sharp shadows that hang over my dreams

     

    And in a tucked away neighborhood

    Just beyond the trees

    With the 3d printed houses where kids learn their ABCs

    And skin their knees on their own little rectangles of grass and stolen earth

    There, I tear my heart down

    First

    With an exhale giving up

    I crush my compass at a chapel and resign myself to you

    I burn my letters with a blue flame and I eat up all the ash

     

    Lastly,

    I tear my heart down

    With a jagged piece of glass.

    With a city and a street

    With a silhouette of teeth

    Where the paved down broken people meet and put all of their tokens neatly in the machine

    It’s mostly silver and grey but there’s patches of green

    Where the sheep all eat hay

    And you lay down your dreams

    And a man in a suit gives you a receipt and a child and a roof and a slice of rotten meat and everything you thought you were going to be burns away suddenly into cinders on your tongue

    And the greenhouse gases from your dreams collect up in your lungs

    And you struggle, something in you screams, but you keep climbing the rungs

    And going to the grocery store

    And washing your face

    And tearing your heart out

    Lace by red lace

     

    You were a coyote

    And a cactus with a crown

    You were going to float around the world and make a lot of sound

    But you sold your ticket and you gave up your crown for an insurance policy and a quiet place to drown

     

    And you were doing just fine; all the knobs on your life support were beaming and bleeping

    You were doing just fine,

    You were screaming and seeping

    And all your vital signs were right where we wanted them

    You were going to quietly sleep through this life

    With a suitcase and a wife and a summer home and an empty place to keep the empty electrical socket of your soul

    And a shoebox and a Netflix account

    And a rabbit in a hole

     

    You were doing just fine until the sedative of slow emptiness wore off

    And suddenly

    You could feel

    The teeth of the succubus slowly

    Draining you out drop by crimson drop

    and you cried out for more pain for more teeth

    you cried out for a mirror so you could watch yourself bleed

    you cried out for a time machine and a way to know what to need

    your coinstacks all tumbled and you caved in your dreams

    in your last breath you mumbled

    but no one heard what you said

    that last secret that you told

    before your soul went to bed

     

    but its been speculated

    that the forest smiled that night

    with dark and starspacled teeth

    Maybe the world wrote off your taxes and granted you leave

    and maybe the trees gulped you up

    so you could finally breath.

     

    Maybe you slipped away quietly into the dark sleeve of night

    Maybe someone, somewhere flicked back on your lights.

     

  • 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

    And that

     

    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

    and me

    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

    We transmute

    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

    No.

    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

    And death

     

    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 richness,

    To nothingness,

    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

    And why

    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

    relinquish

    wake up

    Now.

     

     

  • 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

    behold, below

    wayward tourists disguised as themselves

    on the sidewalk of East Park Avenue chatter

    in an accidental echo of the Universal Buffoonery

    Remembering abstractedly

    hungering, in some secret stomach, for clarity, for the

    belch of eternity

    and I, in my bed

    coiled like a nautilus

    a fetus

    constellation

     

    slowly peeling away from the flesh

     

    and into the smoggy city of Nostalgia

     

    embarking

    on the shrink wrapped journey

    of flacid clock hands

    waiting

    to be tried

    for conspiracy of lineareality

    waiting

    feeling weight

    of monstrous empty space crouching in vein laced hides of oculi

    flailing tongues and prongs and rogue addendums in

    a stab

    of abalone luminescence

     

    before unpinning myriad of selves from protoplasm to melt into

    mirror image

    and sink in star spangled puddle of time

     

     

    back in tent now-

    redwoods breathing and weaving me into the fabric of freedom

    back now

    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

    of  drum

    of prehistory

     

    its laughing cunt exhaling death

     

    into the bowels of mystery

     

    into the womb of night

     

    back

    into the emerald metronome of moldavite

     

    back

    in teeth of quartz

    blinking splinters of

    colors of

    white

     

    back

    in Temple of Collective

     

    back in thirsty skulls of youth

     

    back

     

    in ancient wordless Seed of truth

    dissolving and revolving from and into

    nameless, faceless

     

    back,

    Now

     

    Back.

     

    to window, bed, and body

    to merlot and sourdough of  breathing relic of

    Sacred Self

     

    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

    back

    to

    Screaming

    bleeding

    blinking

     

    birth

    of light.

     

     

  • Prayer To No Thing ness

     

    Prayer To No Thing Ness                                         Emily Kell 2012

     

     

    Now sitting strangely on top of our own leathers

    Scarcely breathing

    For fear of falling off the moment

     

    We found something out there,

     

    And hung it in the attics of our skulls

    And coddled it within our souls

    Like a taxidermied buffalo

     

    We found something out there more than our pelts or names

    And mounted it on the monument where moment becomes place

    Where you walk through the empty aqueducts of past to

    Mourn the cold decay of time, of

    Momentous moment

     

    Where there was moon

    And kinship among rocks

    And the squirrels on the asphalt only slept and waited

    To wake for the green dawn of wabi sabi.

     

     

    We found something out there

    Hung like an invisible question mark in the air

    A belch of enlightened innocence

    The sand blasted breeze to chisel us into ourselves,

    We, who are really just fingers and toes of the great taxidermied buffalo but

     

    We found something out there

    And peeled the extra flesh away until we were all marrow and sinew

    And golden

    Everything is a great circle

    And doused with dread and wonder

     

    We found something out there

    More than ourselves

     

    All the world was eyes moving under lids

    And our flesh was not afraid because it fell onto the moment

    And groped and loved

    And fell to feeling

    To forget itself

    And understand its creamy vessel

    Crawling back into the garden

    To move, pink and innocent

    Over the great sphere of no thing ness

     

  • 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,

    Soft,

    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

    Punishing yourself

    A little bit each day

    you would open your eyes under water,

    open pandora’s

    legs

    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,

    everyday,

    that you love them.

    Remember the white plastic ward

    With its knobs and sobs

    Of machinery

    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

    beautiful

    And no one can take that away from you.

     

     

  • Burn

    Burn                                                                           Emily Kell 2012

     

    And after we

    burn ourselves in effigy,

    our cinders return to the road

    smoldering by the spray painted squares

    of lacquer yellow liquid cookie crumbs

    like Red number 3 popsicle stains on the asphalt tongues

    of America.

    and I can see myself in the mirror of its pointed teeth

    feel its sawdust in my heart beat, feel its

    equidistant cookie crumbs as they hit the road

    fallen from some pocket of some wild child

    some Hansel and some Gretel

    and perfectly imperfect.

    from ecstasy to effigy,

    from dust to dust,

    everything

    is the same.

    dictated by moons and flames

    illuminated by black rock bottoms

    motherless colorless children of age

    with eyes of sage parched for truth.

    flash flood, sand to mud, tits to teeth, vegan meat

    me at the esplanade on a pedestal of my bloated self

    how ridiculous

    this meticulous image we waste the clock to compose like an ever dissolving symphony.

    when dissolving is the true form of evolving

    how ridiculous

    and fit for the fire.

    we turn we change

    we spin, dwindle, and perspire

    groping, fumbling, fucking on the cusp

    of timelessness and wanderlust.

    is it just me or do the rumble strips laugh like a western Buddha

    nudging us, gently, joltingly, down our paths,

    toward one inevitable conclusion

    of death.

    of disillusion,

    of unity that surmounts any degree of separation.

    we are those ants

    climbing the hairy hollow limbs of the million legged spider to trudge the insurmountable mountain inside her

    we reach the top only to lose ourselves

    because that is the ultimate goal

    the last line in the books of all of our souls

    you have to let it all go, have to burn your ego

    before you can realize your part of the whole.

     

     

  • 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

    Hung forever

    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.

    We are

    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

  • When I Became Love

    When I Became Love                                                                        Emily Kell 2010

     

    I see the triangles everywhere

    glinting off the facets of my daisy paved heart

    grazing

    my circular atmosphere

     

    a reluctant start

    until gravity gives birth to motion

    slipping into a rally of unkempt promises

    silent and spoken

    for you and for me and for all of the hopeless romantics

    all of the peter pans and lost boys that prefer the lucid defiance of dreams to the angular semi-truths of daily life

     

    so fragile

    that they make you shudder and laugh quietly like some blue shadow on the plaster wall

    with the hole in it hovering before the cold tile ground

    where we lay in the time when life had not left behind light in your hardboiled eyes

     

    would you leave me here

    in this field of many tangled tides

    the moon, a stony mirror

    paved with the broken glitter of my thighs

     

    on one of those star bitten nights

    when I can see the sick spiral

    the same way that you can see the milky way

    when you’re in it

    a night

    when I seem to forget how old my soul is

    and how young my soul is

    as I try to break free from a destiny of living limited humanity

    I see

    so many words rendered obsolete by their meaning

     

    the moment “Love” drips from my lips it splits into a colorful conduit of comprehension

    an off kilter filter destined toward definition

    through your own crazed maze of lust and betrayed trust

     

    but, I think I touched love once

    I grazed the gentle tooth of her skin with the indigo embers of my existence

    wide eyed with electric finger tips

     

    the moment was an island

    Atlantis

    and the moon

    the crickets were like drops of thunder

     

    the memory is harvested with echoes of shattered symbiosis

    but if you look at it like this

     

    you can see the laughter in every disaster

     

    and when you wake to find that you are still dreaming

    and you manifest your arrival to the fork in the dream

    you find yourself redeemed

    for every challenged notion that you nurtured in the face of doubt

    and watch your fear fray

    into fibers

    to weave ropes of hope

     

     

    here I am, twisted in this tangle

    scraping at the right angles

    when all I really want to be and to feel is

     

    bathed in the moment

    when I Became

    Love