November 19, 2014

The Princess always changes faces
She’s one for every day
Drawn in garments tied with laces
Her ruby ringlets stray
Is She Summer, Winter, Spring
Or Autumn’s little changeling

Her blush has lost its powder pink
Her lips turned pallid grey
Her emerald eyes begin to blink
Her sunlight’s gone away
Is She Summer, Winter, Spring
Or Autumn’s little changeling

Oh how pale now are Her cheeks
As Her night takes over day
She hid Her face for days on weeks
When October passed her way
Is She Summer, Winter, Spring
Or Autumn’s little changeling




November 6, 2014

Do you have an ink that darkens
Have you an arrow in the quiver
Have you a candle in the darkness
Can you strike against the river
Can your feather glance the pages
Can you as its surface rages
Will your ink still hope to stain
Will the wind not slant your dart
Will your candle’s light remain
Will your feather fall apart
Won’t your ink soon lose its color
Won’t your arrow’s target flee
Won’t your candle’s light grow duller
Won’t you pluck one feather free

Iris (Columbine)

October 30, 2014

Come forth and hear Her poison ditties
Her voice still rings within the cities
The inoculation’s sudden sting
Tomorrow flies envenomed wings
Come forth now, oh Harem Queen
And help to wipe the ledger clean
Give an ear to the Lonely Muse
Who brings us news of slanted truths
Do not Her precious gifts refuse

Take now your leave of earthly things
The Owner of All Voices sings
In garments varied She adorns us
With each a note within Her chorus
Take now your leave of earthly senses
Gulp in the fumes of Her incenses
The rhythm of Her song commences
The loss of past and future tenses

Me oh, oh Me, oh Gaude!
This body’s small, I’m trapped inside!
Oh Gaude, Me oh, oh Gaude, Me!
There’s others trapped inside with me!
Who among us can be called “I”
Me oh, oh Me, oh Gaude why?
Will each sense return a sudden
Like memories not yet forgotten?

Bring me my eyes, my glowing orbs
Bring me my ears, to hear the choir
Bring me my tongue, my twisted sword
Bring me my nostrils, to breath the fire
With one sense in separation
That comes only in consummation
The mind desires, desires much
The mind desires another’s touch

So once again he’s drawn to bring
Himself to hear the song She sings
Perhaps more careful not to tread
Too far into the lay She’s lead
We are but droplets in Her ocean
Reflected lights of Her emotion
And proud are we the colored lenses
For Her projections beaming endless


October 24, 2014

There’s treasure hidden in the glade
My flower lost Her petals’ shade
In the sky the change is written
The winds of time blow intermittent
So why now standing on one foot
Has the creation deemed to put
My wooden form on earthen shelf
Creation why unmake thyself

Like crooked staves my arms are shook
There’s chilling winds upon the brook
By frigid fingers my petals plucked
My corn is cornered my leaves are shucked
So why now are the multitudes
Sent heavenward: my blood my brood
Crushed between the ivory mortar
Creation did you make me mortal

The blood within begins to thicken
My waving arms are palsy-stricken
My looming frame bends to defend Her
Frozen in Her cold surrender
So why now in the darkest night
Are weathered soldiers sent to fight
My creaking limbs cannot protect Her
From creation’s debt collector

Her virgin stem is growing light
The hills around bedecked in white
Be it death or be it marriage
The bones still bend beneath the carriage
Of all the forms who came before us
And utter now their silent chorus
Creation suffers to hear Her sing
So sends the cold to strangle Spring



October 10, 2014

Artists do not make good husbands
So I tell it, it must be so
But when he tries to tell it to you
You cannot know it as he knows

Artists do not make good lovers
He must step back to view the being
A hardened hand that barely touches
Little else beside his brushes

Artists do not make good listeners
With blinders on he views the hues
While you talk about your day
He is somewhere far away

Artists do not make good lenders
He never borrows what he gives back
Money is a sea to him
The wealthy cast their nets within

Artists do not make good leaders
You cannot go where he wants to go
There’s no wheels around his tires
There’s no pavement on his road

Artists do not make good living
He translates life to dying things
The line is cold and unforgiving
It binds the mind and clips the wings

A Satiate Tattoo

September 13, 2014

Should it be a human dreams
Of heavens filled with winged beings
Or of a hell with demons vile
Encircling their burning pile
A slightly slanted mind will stray
Along the crooked passageway
Toward a light that distant shines
Toward a land of milder climes
The land that hides within the labyrinth
That’s only present in its absence
The thought that rests in fingers clutched
And still the fingers cannot touch
If there is a truth to know
Attainment starts with letting go


September 12, 2014

Do not send your prayers to me
Be the god you wish to see

The knives among the cutlery
Can cut to kill or cut to free

Do not fearful upward look
Courage strikes the baited hook

There’s no devil in the dark
That can rival human work

Do not think you can rely
Upon a single prayer’s reply

There’s no angel in the sky
That maintains the reason why

Heaven is a human choice
So let us raise our holy voice

Hama Dryad

August 22, 2014

Watch out for me
I might make a scene
I might draw you in
And color everything green

Perhaps on a truffle
We’ll shuffle and go
Until the green stars
Do shimmer and glow

The Hama Dryad still
She still distantly calls
And sweet evergreen jewels
Adorn her echoing halls

A malachite sun shines
In his emerald hues
And smiles on those
He still distantly views

Her damp mossy fingers
Still do verdantly push
Upon the chocolate roots
Of the juniper bush

As her fragrant fumes
Dance on the plain
Nostrils twist and consume
Green is with us again



August 9, 2014

To worship gods is to renew them
Their bounds filled in with lordly hues
To fall in love is only human
Some with reds and some with blues
But hearts are bound in wreathes of flames
When we breathe their holy names

The gods exist because we choose them
From among the shapes and signs
To see the truth in the illusion
There’s not a thing to hide behind
Nor a thought within the brain
That can commit them to the mind
Nor follow their legerdemain

Ida Lea

August 8, 2014

I come from old Tuscany
so good sir, you can trust in me
you won’t find better company,
then to spend it with me.

Oh, I’ve flowed once through Florence
at my dear wife’s ignorance;
what great deeds of abhorrence
were a pleasure to me.

But upon my return,
I was sorry to learn
that my dearly begotten
had forgotten poor me.

Thus no longer Roman,
through the land I’ve been roaming,
for I haven’t been home in
some time you do see.

With a swift ankle flick
from her boot I’ve been kicked;
oh, I’m growing homesick
for my dear Ida Lea.