Poetry

  • 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
    Out wetly
    In the dew tonight.
    You howl
    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.’
    ‘look’
    She says ‘Here is where you hurt.’
    And here.
    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
    Invite
    Razor sharp people

    To dance within our pink hallways
    Again.

  • 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;

    Fell

    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-

    And I.

    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
    Sunken ships////
    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.

    Then

    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:

    Babies,
    You are going to hurt
    When you’re walking this earth
    Crawling lost through this dirt

    Women,
    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.

    Come:

    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.

  • Peace

    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.

    In haste,

    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

    strung right-round

    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.

     

  • 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.

     

     

  • 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.

  • 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

    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.

     

     

  • 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.

     

     

  • 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