Gemini

the end of the world
is at the end of the words…

the song sung.
the poem ended.

My worst fear is your silence,
not your anger.

Endless

The world is a sea of grass.

Smorgasboard through the long days
grain ripening- the world is a sea of budding heads

nodding in the sun.
At night we run,

rapid on tiny feet,
darting from shadow on shadow, nocturnal

feeding from the leavings of the wind,
gnawing at stalks- the world is a sea of night.

We freeze, suddenly.
Owl cries from a tree.

And the endless world ends
for one of us tonight.

Inside Out

This is a true story wrapped in a Lie.

I wanted the world squared off and tidy,
but it is round, this marble, rolling on my tongue.
I can not shed the taste of dirt,
I can not rid myself of the briny aftertaste-
a swallowing of tears will do the same.

If Thought is Deed , as Christians claim;
Hell will be a crowded tenement slum,
and we will ALL be there.
Because we all think. Sometimes.

Call me Mara. It means bitter.
I started laughing once, and couldn’t stop.
They had to slap me, once, twice…
I bit my own mouth raw to stop the pain,
I tasted blood for a week.

It never quite healed.
The same agony migrates around
from heart to vented spleen.
Once it attacked my kidneys,
this round marble earth, it was a stone.

When I cried, nobody heard me.
When I screamed, nobody could hear me
because that marble, rounding, rose from the deep
dark middle of my fear
and gagged my screams down.

And all the Ice Ages that ever were
all crept down my spine at once
and settled in that deep dark place that I am not.
and I run to the ends of the earth to get away,

But Home is where the Dark is.

Voices

About The Mirror and Its Pieces

The mirror laughed,
shaking itself to pieces
on the way to Heaven.
No mirror mocks perfection
and laughter can be shattering.
Glass, like dust, spread world wide.

A Little Boy and A Little Girl

Always there, always fair.
Always the head in the window
always, love.

A grain of glass and a beautiful witch
will not stop me.
I will walk the earth
and bring you home with me.

The Flower Garden Of The Woman Who Knew Magic

I like the red bloom of the tulips best.
Blood in chalices, an offering. Barren,
I surround myself with symbols of fertility,
I grow them by the thousands.
But they die, and I wanted a child.
Who left me for another,
Who failed my hopes,
Who saw my roses, and slipped away.

The Prince And The Princess

I think it is no crime
to know what I want-
to know what a woman wants.
The men, they come, they go.
Mighty swords do not impress me
or the vapid words of penny poetry
only the man who thinks will satisfy me.

The Little Robber Girl

Rebellion is rebellion, after all.
The Devil in Heaven, before the Fall
did rebel, and flaming like a star
did sear the sky, and lost a war.
I had no army, just my pets, and me
I rebelled, I set her free.

The Lapp Woman and The Finn Woman

The best help, betimes,
is no help at all.
A little here, a nudge along the path,
a gentle word
a blanket against the cold.

I sent her on, do you the same.
If innocence and love fail, nothing will win,
it is all for naught.

What Happened At The Snow Queens Palace

She wormed her way in.
Armed in hymns, in innocence
the angels saved her for him.
She wept, the conniving bitch,
Always tis that crying children get their way.

When I came back he was gone,
the puzzle solved.

She may have him,
but he will not forget.
Each winter when I cluster
where the flakes are thickest
he will shiver,remembering me.