Stars’
Crossing
Crossed roads, slowly
swaying
entrance beads from day
to night.
Slip in between to
become
for that instant of
eternity
dancing gypsy calling
to
Moon, to storytelling
stars.
Embrace that mystery,
train tracking
adventure. Breathe
forgotten fields,
lush or shriveled,
dependent on water
and feed. Let go of all
but one brave
hand solidly grasped to
the doorway.
Let go; let fingers fall
reaching.
Second Star to the
Right
Traveling beyond
Persephone's garden
on the etheric
threshold
'tween mortality and
death.
Taking an oblique path
at the crossroads
onto an
accessway
along the axis of
bliss.
It's not a road on
which
the dramas
fade.
It's not about a
numbing block
to pain.
Drama unfolds
--
my chemistry responds
exquisitely.
Touch is just
touch;
sensation translates
information.
All the appointed
tasks,
routine errands of the
everyday,
little pauses along the
bliss path,
allow me to breathe the
scent
of endless
possibilities,
as path and
consciousness expand
blissfully
aware.
Liminal Spaces
Twilight, the wee hours,
the dark of the moon,
liminal spaces,
places where magic
dwells,
crossroads, crises,
cusps.
There is static on the
radio.
A song
my voice was singing,
rhythm of sound
takes flight to surround
me,
a comforter of down
to ease my soul.
I've been trying to define a
taste,
a sense of bittersweet and
salt.
I've been trying to find a
trace
a footprint in the
desert,
a sight, a scent,
a memory.
I've been trying to discern a trace
of me,
a piece to fit the
puzzle,
my contribution to the grand
design.
Seeking in shadows,
the space between
myth and matter,
those places words
cannot define.
On those insubstantial
plains
of myst and awe,
the stuff of dreams,
threshold of wonder,
creation is spawned.
Crossing the
Threshold
At the crossroads at
midnight
My lady did
swear
That she must be
alone
To face up to her
demons
"Please understand that
I must
be aware of just who I
am
and where I've come
from."
I sat by the
bridge
as she set forth her
tools,
her sorcerer lore, her
alchemic runes
So she'd know who to
honor, to break
and to
blame
What she'd been made
for,
her journey, her
truth.
At the crossroads, past
midnight,
just before
dawn
My lady thrice nodded
and
stamped out her
flames.
She beckoned I join her
out on the meadow
to kiss and
rejoice
and reveal our true
names.
Cross Purpose
At hours’ crossroads, Reason
drowns
in rage, scathe,
irradiated rain, treasonous
air.
Weary of care, of
punishing,
bottomless anger, of sobbing
men
robbed of their right to give
birth.
Wrested from Mama's warmth,
from
the cave, to play
brave.
And it's ladies' choice as you
squirm
in fool's corner.
Such a chore -- kissing at
this
and that for a chance to
score
the shame, the blame from
stuck-out
tongues, the bloody
laughter.
"I could bite off that little
thing -- make
you squat to pee."
Wired to fight, at any
cost,
because, of course, the Cross
proclaims
"We're right. They are
inherently wrong."
"Those below must be taught to
obey
our superior tools, to be
broken,
that we may ride."
Against our better fate, sad
race divides
along strict lines, by
difference
nature devised to spawn us
strong.
Alchemy
Simple acceptance.
The dancer with the
dance
entering pre-dawn
mystery.
Quiet interval, enchanting
music.
Undulating reverie.
Alone in Hekate's
garden,
breathing in memory
of jasmine and
spice.
Weary roads traveled
crossroad to
crossroad;
the journey
continues.
Weary days have found
sustenance
in secreted hovels, dimestore
romance.
Convoluted talk, empty
gestures,
soul-less ritual
take up the stitches of
time.
Some brave midnight,
if I learn my lessons
well,
I will eat the fruits of Hekate's
garden,
dancing in piquant
reverie,
leaving my tears and
anguish
along the windswept
trail.
Ebullient music
dances me
as the Goddess
kisses
my tearstains into
gold.
Green Magic
Ancient prototypes etched into
collective retina.
Vast vegetation, expansive cure for
distressed
neural cells.
Casting outward. Hope for
connection
to sacred ground, profoundly
real.
Reborn to forest,
nurtured in nativity.
Green, deep healing
green.
Fear is a thrill.
Rush anticipation of
danger.
Piquant romance with what might kill
or maim
or carry dread.
Warnings fill imploding head;
adrenalin syncopates heart.
Fear, a crossroad to start
from,
then taunting groves to hide
behind.
Fear can dazzle, delay, explain
years of wasted time.
Any sufficiently
advanced efficiency of
chemistry, natural
technology, exchange of toxic breath
for
benign symbiotic
ecology.
(No college degree could
assure
so lush a life.)
So sad that we only see what we
expect.
Trained to tragedy, to forget the
best
that could be manifest.
Sagacious find a quiet relaxed
pace.
Days drift and wander.
Daring to explore pleasure, infinite
awareness.
Leisurely share what feels genial,
good, light.
Engage.
Make
Peace The Issue
