I lost you first,fourteen year friend,my golden girl.
Perhaps best to admire, from a distance,the petals on your face. The ayre, it seems, conspiresto steal my breathaway.
The sun, the stars, that swing betweenthe night, the day, what holds us there?What can the night breeze hope to meanto strangers flailing up to leanagainst the void, unbroken air?Can their song ever linger wherethe sharpest voices, desperate, gleana gift, a solitary care?Louder and louder as we fall,we plead for meaning to it all.We try … Continue reading Modified Italian Sonnet #1
I’m fleeting, dropfrom Mother, caught by the breezeand carried far, far away.Dogwood Blossoms
Wreathed in mist Her mountain tops So blue against the setting Sun, arboreal leaves hidden By the dappled shade That shifts across The valley slopes Shimmering under Its wilting gaze In the final hours Of the day
Mother made me To cry bitter tears Over her mountains Her valleys Her serenity
If snow could taste the rainThere will be hunger in the voidIf the stars fade awayThen light will be gone from our heartswhen I carry my first childkiss me kiss me said the crow
I’d risk it all Alea iacere
The mountain stones run deep And cold, so old Like Jörmungandr’s bonesWaiting to rise And devour the world When their day comes
What a night spent Lusting, thrusting after Every cup to maintain The fame of playing our game Well into the predawn glare We care not at all For how we fare the morning After our midnight disasterHail to the glory, Spectacle, andStory