Our Lady of Ashes
The bird that rises
above and without
the sparks and the smoke
from the green willow tree
The crows are calling
calling calling
against the sky
against and without
without and above
the red maple tree
Answer with lies and stones
night owls
the screeching dawn
all words and chaos
we burn
We are cold so we burn
our lies our hair our hours
of wasted company
perhaps cold will be our salvation
Cold nation
with nothing to burn
but ashes
Music Box
the grandmother has a velvet
music box that trembles out a tune
the dancers turn and turn
without anyone noticing
an old man slips away
from the edge of the party
into the misty night
he looks into the canal
in his dystopian eyes
an ivory wish
Another Day’s Contemplation
cloud watching
in the Cold Field
a bat
a dragon
a starved arm
a bridge on fire
washed away
with spiritual severity
an ornamental comb
a mastodon
a phoenix
a great knotted back bone
the winds thin fingers
there are no clouds
A Poem Thus Far Untitled:
so many hungry hands
in the broken half light
a smokey answer
a hazy key
tragedy in his dark footsteps
he turns without responding
Jormungand with Seven Serpents
I like the snake
that encircles and clasps
its tail in its jaws
it has such pale teeth
it owns oceans
oceanic eyes
it holds an icy answer
dont ask to keep
the elder constellations in a bronze basket
dissection
and simple contemplation
of snakes
in the pale river light
Going Home
I am from the ravens
of One Eye
An unsentimental wisdom
I am from keys
I am from a teetering word
I am from duality
and pale flames
I am from a graveyard full of ivy
I am from long legged spiders
I am also from webs
I am from black velvet
and a handful of moons
I am from climbing trees
I am from tattered tales
and a long way from the city
I am from a cold ocean
sparks
silence
rain
owl feathers
I am from skeleton keys
Talk