The curve of your laughter draped around my heart, dancing and sweet the halo of time resting and safe, so safe that I no longer remember all that I know; your eyes see me in the day dancing with the falling leaves
At night you are my halo ring the moon among the dews upon the soul of time, a night cradle and safe because your eyes see me I become the wind in the reeds, the fragance of the bees’ honeys
Your Mithra wings covering the world in light extending over the sky, the sea and all skies and seas because your eyes have seen me I become the source of all colors, and fragrances hatched in brooding aurorae nestled in the straws of the stars, and now I know how each day depends on innocence, the whole world depends on our pure eyes and all of our blood flowing into the seeing of this world
I dreamed I went back in search of four bass guitars I once owned that were my favorites. All but one were black, the other red. I was moving north on River Road, with Grocery Outlet on my left, searching for and recovering lost instruments and lost time. N—— from church was in the dream. It’s interesting how people we underestimate in daily life appear in our dreams, as fresh and vibrant as if holy and heroic. River Road itself appeared green with life and sunshine. The scene at the intersection of that and Silver Lane was nimbused or haloed with spiritual energy, like the circle around the full moon, except more like the sun’s corona. There was a glowing aura about everything, all green and yellow like a sunlit lawn in the summer. And there was I, trying to recollect the pieces of my broken life, when maybe the…
Dead wings, dead wings, to fall is to be reborn out of bright solitude and dropped into the sea The memory of the earth is a weight of waves and islands; in my blood and in my bones, the weight of my incarnations is stronger than my will to be unique, it breaks me, destroys me reminding me always of my place.
I am the mother of lost souls and prisoner to my faults, my beauty and to my will; transparently walled, my cells of life delivered by innocent death spoiled by joy before the open grave of the earth, the sea and the air and so docile, docile like a stone, an angel or a even a star; to fall is to be reborn drawn into the deepest of deaths into birth and to life, it is all the same sleep, a unique grace which bends the paths of heaven to the curve of the earth; Even my highest desire is subservient to the peace of love which governs storms, wars and the birth of wings
Since we are already on our way …traipsing to the shadowlands marching to the rising flames, our feet crumbling the gravel;
Since we have set off to fight, our hearts coaxing The Light to fill our baskets full of words carrying the nudity of our souls; awakening just before daybreak’s sweet blue hour, we write our testaments, storing them with greatest care, these are memories not of accomplishment but of our broken promises, our wounded hearts
In my vision, I saw Nature again, my Lord I saw Nature at her beginning singing her song opening up my ears with the sounds of branches, waters, breezes and bees And Life everywhere springing from this brown and green, lush and harsh earth
Nature, I know her eternal trap: Strong by beauty, humble by silence, She waits for us to start again and again in our immense obeying to Your universal goal.
Your indiscernible Love makes a furtive call “I am Here” and suddenly I’m rounded by the swarming scent of sweet boxwood and . everything swells and cracks with a slight noise, Resin in the sun; The wind, at the top of the trees, All Nature is of Himself, You, the God, myself the slight Bride to Your Light, Your hands steady on my shoulders, this healthy and chaste passion, My body and soul, a nest to carry the living Among this whirlwind of seeds and swarms, Nature need not allow charnel, straying evil Yet You, great King, add the mixture of acrid acid lustings among the spring leaven; the desire for a more divine love than human delusion can repair
I watched the shilling spinning
it was mine in no small measure
Enough to buy two Matchbox cars
to hold and keep and treasure
The fingers twisted blithely
as they caught and spun again
but I saw no abandon
found no one there to blame
Who could decipher this silent night? her numbered stars brilliant and secret the monotonous sweetness, her unique color the vast, absolute borderless hieroglyphical glow of her, an eternal and mystical monument,
Peaceful night always caught between air and death. Peaceful night, energy torrents of light flowing over rocks emanating her cold and sad perfumes of existence and, us, in our cellared earth, parting pale and grave, souls of days and their spirits
Our primitive hours serving as distant reminders to our worried desires so defiant in daylight; In the day we are pensive even solemn, but it’s grave and glorious night where the scented spaces swirl around us, and I want to trace my name on your white stele and meditate upon you inside the frozen heart of night.
It’s me, Cassandra. And here is my city covered in embers. And here is my staff, my prophet’s ribbons. And here is my head full of uncertainty.
That’s right, I triumph. The fire of my reason licks the sky. Only the prophets that no one believes Enjoy such shows; Only those who got it wrong So that everything happens as quickly As if they hadn’t existed.
I remember now, distinctly those who before me, stopped listening. Their laughs choking. Minds unraveling. Children running towards their mothers. I didn’t even know their names. And this my song written on the sands No one bothered to sing it
I was right. But then, nothing comes of it. And here is my blouse charred by fire. And here is my prophetess hardware. And here is my stony face. A face that didn’t know it could be beautiful.