joy of my desiring
eternity in a minute
the gods laugh at our folly
but i scorn their criticism and bask in my joy.
time becomes meaningless and i laugh again,
for in this i shall live forever.
my light amid the dark
my touchstone, my god,
my faith
“i love You, i love You,” i scream to the stars
they laugh and so do i
i laugh, i laugh
Your love is my laughter, Your laughter my love
my faith, my treasure, my god, my love.
kaiomai
i am on fire with the illumination
breathing in, breathing out
kaiomai
hail ye gods of the center of the ages!
breathing in, breathing out
i see a twist, a warp in the threads, yet i cry:
hail ye gods of the center of the ages!
and zeus wears odin's garb
i see a twist a warp in the threads, yet i cry:
hail ye gods— o great vishnu!
and zeus wears odin's garb
while minerva holds a raven
hail ye gods— o great vishnu!
dancing the dance, drinking of milk and honey
while minerva holds a raven
hic jacet arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus.
dancing the dance, drinking of milk and honey
once i was blinded by truth
hic jacet arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus
the king who was again shall be king.
once i was blinded by truth
then grew the tree, yggdrasil, dendron-logos
the king who was again shall be king
for reality will be found in falsehood
then grew the tree, yggdrasil, dendron-logos
and i ate from its fruit but was not damn'd
for reality will be found in falsehood.
apollo bears a silver sword, and it burns
and i ate from its fruit but was not damn'd
i am on fire with the illumination
apollo bears a silver sword, and it burns
kaiomai
reflection on sitting outside reading shakespeare
sunshine, at last! i dip my fingers into it
grasping the goldenly liquid of its essence
and let it fill my mind
with the glow of oberon and his fairies
and the bard's words scamper around my head in
iambic pentameter
for what else would their rhythm be?
the grass enfolds me like
a rough, yet strangely comforting blanket—
you know, the sort grandma keeps from "back in the day"
i chew on a few blades, musing
on this and that
and some stuff
that doesn't belong to either category
on to much ado about nothing
i discover myself in it,
don pedro, played by denzel washington in the film, if you care
yep, that's me. oscar winner
except not really, i'm not a real actor, i'm just in a club
but what the hell
i can pretend i can act
and so i settle down in daydreams in that grass
bawdy jokes echoing over and over like goblins' voices
sorrowful speeches whispered in pain
and here is a life, here is a meaning
outside, on the grass, reading fictional honesty
my sun and stars
never will i forget when we danced
in the forest, gold light
cutting gently through the dark leaves, and You
holding me tight, saying nothing,
only that You loved me, and i would say that i
loved You too
and You melted the phantom shards of fear, o my
sun and stars.
just in memory is this, just in mind
and it never happened, but
maybe it did
escaping reality like hope sprung from pandora's box, o
sun and stars.
but what does it matter? i close my eyes
open them, close them again, and
You are there, eternally
dancing with me, my sun and stars.
The Maiden Walking in the Field
The light-shod wind glides past her like a shade,
The flowers gold and red bend back in fear,
And walking in this field one spies the maid
Whose eyes are clos'd to hide the budding tears.
I know not wherefore sadness cometh so,
Nor why the maid is here on such a day,
But as the sorrow seemeth now to grow,
In troubled thought 'tis I who turns away.
A taunting lover or a vexsome friend?
Or mayhap something grievous at her home—
I see no cause for coming to this end
And know I that the answer can't be shown.
It haunts me now to think on that day's grace
Touch'd coldly by the tears upon her face.
the crawling beetle
do you know the crawling beetle?
pick it up in your hand
and watch it attempt to burrow into your skin
though it can't cuase you any pain
black, yet shiny smooth
hard, but fragile enough
for you to crush
feel it, and take it home with you.
when i was eight i hated beetles
and wished they would all get on a train ride out of here
so stupid, no help to anybody
but that was only yesterday when i thought like that
and when i woke up this morning
i caressed the day and thought how grand the beetle is
and did you know beetles are a common subject of writers?
they come in all color books
yellow horror, green fantasy, black spy novel
and sometimes i'll put eleanor rigby on
and read read read about those little bugs
and think about how the beetle is all i need
beetles have driven nations to war, too
the face that launched a thousand ships was quite beetle-like
and beetles are in religion— though i see your eyes widen
into thick juicy balls that inuits might like to eat—
for the god of canaan was the god of the beetle
and if you really get far back enough in history
all the gods are beetles
now, i'm not going to write a beetle ballad
because real beetles are dull and stupid and crawl
around looking for something that is meaning
and so all in all they're rather like many people
but
the other type of beetle
the one i'm talking about
it's a rather nice one, and i'm glad i've got a beetle of my own
joan
the flames kiss you lightly
and then they are tearing away your clothes
seeking your body, your soul
your beautiful soul
that has been damned for its sins
what sins? i cry from the crowd
witch, witch, sorceress, temptress, fool of a fool
come the voices back at me
witch? where is your magic?
temptress? are you so seductive?
fool? why did you win so many battles?
coiled titanium fists
i scream at the idiocy, the mindlessness
and burning
all you are doing is burning, joan.
drums of ireland
he has sculptor's hands
which can mould and destroy
gentle, caring for his subjects
relentless against his enemies
and this is my king of erin
now the hands grasp the drumsticks
rat-a-tat-tat-tat
rat-a-tat-tat
keeping time for his army
of woad men and fairies and screaming warriors
crying to be avenged for the blood of their mighty people
rat-a-tat-tat
my king, my love, where go Ye? to
the fields of england? the shores of the norse?
i, maid of cymru, know not, and
the flutist echoes my words in a slow caronach
where go Ye... where go Ye...
to the plains of death, beloved, and yet will I return.
the answer dies swiftly
and the blood flows down through the green hills
and through his hands
i take the flute in my hands and stand
by the side of my king
and the drums become the beat for a dirge that i play
caronach, caronach
for a nation i am not of
but he is my king, and his hands are in mine
as we face the shadow
aye, i spoke with achilles
aye, i spoke with achilles
first, he did not know me
and i didn't recognize him
all i saw was a glorious youth
with hair that was golden and silk and i wanted
to run my hands through it
and then he smiled, and his teeth flashed
which i hadn't thought possible
and his eyes were honest, appealing
nut-colored with little green bits—
rather unlike a greek, if you ask me
but he was beautiful and he was smiling
and he flexed his frame and awe flooded me at
such perfect masculinity
—who are you?
—a fool now tamed.
and he somersaulted into the air
rejoicing in himself, and
his pant leg slid down to his knee—
his ankle was a ruin
black, corrupted, stinking like the feeling i get
when i see a 32% on a test
and i knew his name and i spoke it silently
i think he heard me.
—why are you here?
—hades.
we watched a play performed
in the darkness, lips writhing in near-nothing speech
to each other, while the light happened onstage
for now, we weren't in it.
and he was wonderful, achilles was, wonderful
like taking off your socks and running through a field
because you could speak to him—
and so skilled he was
he drew my face and figure in a minute
perceived my character
sung a song to me
and i sang back
and then i asked
—what of your famed pride?
—it is dead with me.
he had beauty and grace and mind and talent
and humble was he
i caught my breath to see
his ankle once more
i reached out my hand, quavering, touched the flesh
passed clean through
and when i withdrew—
when i withdrew achilles was healed.
if you really saw me
if you really saw me
there wouldn't be a tiny innocent creature
kissing up to all the teachers
stupidly wearing her hair long so that she looked
like a little girl
this little creature has a dark side, too, though
you think
but
if you really saw me
there wouldn't be an imposing intellectual sorceress
who knew all the answers to the real questions
why does she have to be so damn deep?
if you really saw me
however
there would be no disdain or fear
if you really saw me
you wouldn't have made me cry when i was young
thinking nobody loved me
even when a few did
and that few wasn't enough
please, love me
i am different, but
something blossoms in me that is in you as well
and that is humanity
—that is hope
—that is yearning
—that is love
if you really saw me
i would love you
if you really saw me
i wouldn't be writing this
churning words out from my tortured mind
knowing some of you still won't understand
and feeling sudden hot tears spill from my eyes
if you really saw me
i might feel like i knew my purpose
and i might feel like you could help me
did you hear that?
help me.
me of all people, who i bet you thought could never need help
because i have no feelings
only pure thought and logic
but i could give you tales of my irrationality
that you'd beg me not to tell afterwards
if you really saw me
you would see nightmares of wailing dead fetuses
demons of my own invention plaguing my mind
from the world of death
and you wouldn't think i'm crazy— you'd know where those dreams came from
if you really saw me
you'd know why i hate abercrombie
and why mtv is the bane of television
and why i pray for your own soul sometimes
if you really saw me—
good god, i wish you could
i wish you could
if you really saw me
we'd laugh in pure joy together
take walks along rivers honeyed from sunset
and the sky would resound to our singing
our singing that came from ecstasy in life
if you really saw me
you would know i am in darkness and light at the same time
and you would know that although i would give my body
to men only
i am man and woman both
helpless as a victim of prejudice against androgyny
if you really saw me—
good god, i wish you could
but i've realized you can't
you can't
some can, but not you
damn you
if you really saw me
you'd know that when i think these things
i weep for myself
and for you too
meeting Him on the road
i took the road through countryside
with trees along the edge
simple was the dirty path
enclosed by tangled hedge
and not a soul was walking there
alone was i, and weak
bluebirds flitted past my eye
and to them would i speak
i passed the time like this till once
a figure far away
came closer, closer, closer still
and then I heard him say,
"come rest your feet, sweet troubled girl
and let your life begin."
i saw his eyes, i took his hand
and thus i found my Twin.
outside the apartment
flame watercolor got spilled in the sky
and the colors swirled and blended
and suddenly i see that it is sunset
we sit by the river, watching the water color
red above and red below, golden, orange, saffron
i braid my hair and then you undo it
and everything is the watercolor, inconstant
flowing everywhere
bright light and brilliance
and it is from you
rescue
what is more precious than knowing you exist?
you breathe, you live, you are you
and i know something is right in this troubled world
dipping my feet in a clear brook
i step out, and am covered in slime
and i anchor my feet on you, my ground
so does the slime disappear
misinterpration of the snowman song
i waltz beneath the moon
i waltz beneath the moon
tonight
the Song is bittersweet, but still my dancing feet
are light
i sing the ancient Song
the ancient Song of joy
and tears
for though the Night is fey, the Song will drive away
Its fears
my Love holds my hand
walk we up the slope
speak we of joyous things
and Hope
the Stars they twinkle bright
like diamonds in the
velvet sky
They say we'll live forever and that we will
never die
i weep and i grieve
such a Night must go
in Life's sweetness burns
Its woe
but i waltz beneath the moon
and still my dancing feet
are light
for though i must depart, forever dwells my heart
tonight
your eyes
looking in your eyes with no end to them
question upon question forming in my mind
do they perceive my depths?
do they wish i perceived theirs?
my lips brush yours
the eyes shut
the energy still flows, seeking, wondering
wanting
and when they open, i have my answer
"thank you"
"thank you" has too much meaning for one
entry in the dictionary saying something
like "colloquial expression of gratitude"
it is a grander and greater thing
that means silver-stringed harps humming in exultation
and doves flitting through the sky
and a chorus of angelic voices
and lying in bed stretching yourself out full-length and then
twitching back to normal with this huge
grin
and this is what i think of when i want to say "thank you"
to you
sideways eight
mist enfolds the styx
and the ferryman is nowhere to be seen
two pools of meaning, your eyes
they watch me from the fog
and i watch back
i slowly reach out my hand—
grasping, seizing yours
with resolute fear
water ripples from our feet
we step in together
and cross without aid
the mist parts, then, and shades
wraiths, half-crazed lost spirits of men
call out and sweep past us
and one reaches to touch my brow in greeting
but he does not pass through
for with you by my side i am solid and living forever
do not be in pain
kill me by being
in pain—
reach your hand out, love, and
i will hold it for you, for
agony cannot be had alone.
never will i leave you
never will i forget you
and this is my vow, sworn on my soul
neglectful am i at times, when others need me
i will hold you
close
or i will know i am a fool
love is my duty and my pleasure for you, my
euphoria— so i beg you, do not be in pain
blessed am i to have you who
understands me
touches me with the most tender of caresses
en archei e ho aner kai he gune— in the beginning was the man and the woman
and we are them
under each other's protection, so you will not be in pain.
Page 1
Back to the entrance of Imladris
