I have wandered far from thoughtless girlhood,
am a woman, a Queen
in my own right.
Yet I am treated with the expectations
of a mindless child
in my mother's Summer home.
The Gods are all agog with Zeus,
fickle, abrasive, free to take full stance
above the laws he so imperiously commands.
My Dark King is so much more a man,
sincere, deeply feeling, committed to his realm,
compassionate, if not always kind.
Yet, here I must obey the crowd,
displaying charm and grace
in haute couture, making small, insipid
conversation with the socialites
decorating Zeus' lawn parties.
Up here, life is meaningless,
All flash and doggerel
to amuse, O', do entertain us.
So tiring to endure the ennui.
Those not privy to opulent entitlement,
relegated to the dregs of servitude, or less
endure for their time, brutal, painful, short,
for no good reason.
I hear their horrid tales,
back in my rightful place and purpose.
Shrunken souls, shriveled by life time hungers
still growling beyond the grave.
I am balm and wise mother.
At last they matter, their stories opening in me
a marvelous passageway through which they are
taken into paradise.
My life above, the petulant daughter,
the pampered goddess spawn,
I endure coldly.
Summer's trivialities, properly obedient to
rituals of the social condition,
know nothing of my true life
under Winter's glory.
stalwart daughter of Zeus
graces her time and place
with divine knowledge.
Today unlined face,
robust yet fragile form
are proclaimed as the graces
Athena, lost in the pantheon,
whispers to the nightears
of her faithful,
saying: "True woman's mind
inclines to wisdom."
But Daddy's girl
wants more recompense
Scrying on the Moon (for Brigid)
~twilight of the goddess, call to song to aery dancing, lady fair your fiery trance rewinds our souls; enjoy these offerings of fancy: all art is yours ~
By sibylline light
images I recognize,
creviced captures of my life.
I know her judgment to be my own.
"Nourished by Moon rivers
mythical cavern blooms
unseen by sunlight
Thus she sets the scene;
becomes the prophecy.
"Purest white simplicity
curved to suggest fragility
faith fed maiden ready for
given in bondage to womanly woes,
hard rows to hoe
for that human hug through
crying of night.
Fate of mortal soldiers, sacrificed to lust.
Seeking relief, beg for the boon of drama
sneaking into sad hotels
for a fix or a tumble.
danger, a real chance.
Barefoot in the snow
winds so strong
I could not make you hear.
I thought you were my destiny.
Crazy thoughts, far from clear;
but I believed
song lyrics from Saturnine deities
would not lie, leave me
dying, fading into winter's grey
endless sorrow endured for naught.
Lost on this careless corner,
dreaming of oblivion, intent on visions
tapping against eternity's
Nature's gradations of green
soothe tired eyes,
trembling nerves, throbbing veins.
Slivers of moonlight reflect
in withered refrains, unearth secrets
embedded in song
effervescing through cool pure air
cleansing the uprising nestling
pure, wise, tested
engorged with the will
movie plot as object lesson
boys find valuable object
boys lose valuable object
boys fight to get valuable object back
I am woman born
no source of father's pride
too early in my days, they
track my aroma
I know not to hide
use me in some back room
until my womb rises with a new slave
for their diversions
I am sacred mother
tit tied to feeding, always feeding
(agonized bleeding in secret shame)
No more than a tether, a trough, and
tantalizer of the profane. I am a wrecked
train, a vehicle left to rust, blamed for
never quite thrown away.
Reject me; reject hard truths,
long trod diamonds, scuff-polished,
hidden like icebergs in paleolithic mud.
Dismiss prophetic exaltation, work songs,
we who are only dreams in your philosophy.
You may well be better
stuck in your own
wheel of clay.
My lesson, when I am ready,
is to leave you to your way;
cleave to the ecstasy
loose, lost, subjective
The moments go by if you forget they're there. Sucking in sweetness, hot sugared coffee, aroma into memory.
It might be a warm, clammy late summer afternoon. Hints of autumn like blackberry spicing the air.
The people here are decent. They smile to make conversation a pleasant bit of business.
They want me to feel safe, cared for. It doesn't matter that we are never more than strangers,
passing faces, smiling. They bring me coffee with sugar and plastic sticks for stirring.
In this moment all of the world turns so skillfully I move along without pause for acknowledgement,
Masked Lady Moon shines
into my room
speaks of fantastic adventure.
Dare I question her
I a masked gypsy
painted in gloom,
a taste for wry humour,
A woman insane,
taken in by the Moon
fair sister, sparkling cold
I wander without home
but that clear, quiet salvation
hiding like Moonlight
unmasked in my mind.
A Woman Disappointed and Disillusioned, Courageously Facing a Seemingly Empty Life
Dressed in sadness
Depressed to madness
Mad to believe in passion,
which never lasts beyond the hour.
Shrieking to bequeath the
power to stand, to breathe.
Years appear, macabre hag
preening her wares.
"See how it was, how it could be.
Drag and drop your face, your fate
onto a printed page. Can you see
new meaning? New lamps for old."
She cackles, like
New maps for a new age.
That charming village erstwhile
known as Hell
has realigned into Helvetica.
All that burning sorrow
Carry her with love
Always, in your deepest places
She is a woman upon the Earth
in a land of briar and weeds
It is so easy to fall
to fail to thrive
set upon by slavering beasts
You know she yearns to serve
that none could find fault
Yet every agonizing step
like angry knives
cutting from below
hobbles her further, deeper
leaving less to give
Bloody prints mark her
Thirsting for the cooling warmth
Carry her into your
Here at the bar again, bar nothing to me.
Here at the bar again, bar nothing to me.
Early Scorpio warm, warm village 2 pm poetry reading
Searching for bargains, found a Paul Goodman book
with cat and dog and baby photographs
to give to Cindy
a gift of love for a fragile child
Still affright from last night's heavy scene
Wherein the police took my man away again,
This time with my blessing and accomplicement.
. . . A man is a hard thing.
Also a drag on fulfilling aspirations
When all he does is cry and threaten
Big Brute Violence
To storm my awareness.
(What's frustrating is he doesn't hear me cry.)
Laughing in the park we loved
Crying in the night we parted
Oh, beseech I, god above
Why must you leave me broken-hearted
(and I know he'll be returning with more disregards
and diatribes and possibly pistols drawn to fire.)
So I sit here in the bar, again
Drinking sweet Kahlua and awaiting the poetry
Taking a respite, you see.
Oh, god, for this while,
Bar nothing to this troubled child
(for child I feel, though woman grown)
Let peace alone assail me.
Ceres, mother of the Earth
Athena, of cerebral birth
Juno, queen of all the gods
Vesta, pure against all odds
Virgo woman, life bequeaths you,
Standing proud amongst your sheaths,
Wisdom, loving gifts of grace,
In all fields is your place
To give of virtue, mind and soul
You plant the seed. You help it grow.
You till the soil and prune and weed.
You are the soil. You are the seed.
A snow-white light on field's relief
To countenance divine belief.
The image of a wishful star:
A steady shine -- but still so far.
The nights of hope; the days of pain
And on and on, that old refrain
We are the heart, the soul, the spleen
We are all we've known, done and seen
We are the time that marches on
With much to do before we're gone.