Burning almond oil, palming amber stones, looking,
fighting myself, angered, facing illusion. Used to think differently, thought
of you—as dangerous beauty. Days seem frightening. The raven is at her crows. Gorgeous
is seen as still with innocence. The stoic’s pen, those ecumenical eyes,
longing in silence, as does an Epicurean. Africa genets, rugs of Persian blend,
the nature of the unvetted.
Haunted in the fast lane—the castle crumbles—it wasn’t
done correctly.
The stag is galloping, the steeds are watching, so
many of us need to dream—the fury of the balance, the cage of the civilized,
the corruption in the forbidden. Ascending.
Doves in droves. Waking in miracles.
The eagle soars, fledglings in the nests, the hut, the
hero, the heroin.
Our age is afraid of women, it has long been, the
gryphon will paint. The sea is rumbling, a tsunami is on the margins, the world
will be effected/affected.
We will one day purchase a coffin … for one we can’t
make it without.
So many transmutations … transitive properties … the
mind as an eclipse.
A skeleton negotiated with invisibility … she became a
phoenix.
