I swallow seeds in your name,
and follow you into darkness.
I plant pomegrantes in my heart,
and feed them with love.
Queen of death,
Daughter of life,
may flowers bloom beneath your feet,
and wither as you pass.
I pray of thee Persephone,
grant to me thy wisdom
and thy grace between the places.
Let me follow your blooded footsteps,
and know the way home again.
The water swirls in the basin
as it empties.
Liquid flowing through
pipes and tubes
towards a treatment plant
“I wash my hands of it”
But the cleansing water comes
back around
and it never stays washed away.
The dirt always gets under your nails
no matter what.
There is some snow, still
Some snow.
The sky is an unreceptive screen,
full of potential and promise,
with no manifestation of a dream.
Pull up the anchor.
Sail across the sky,
let your sail catch some snow,
and your rudder cut the clouds.
Starlight in the snow.
An inky rut.
And some snow.
It’s valentines day. I have a tradition that’s about 12 years old. Every Valentines day I write a suicidal poem. Usually it’s a suicidal love poem, but sometimes the love aspect isn’t very obvious. Here is this years:
Longing
My life is a book.
Its pages written in scribbles and scrawls,
adventures and doldrums.
… read the rest
We are none of us the people others see.
We are all a collection of visages,
shapes and patterns placed upon us,
expectations of personage.
What is true, core,
is the mind alone. Our birth
and death. Our loves and lives.
these are maya.
Really really cold. Sub-Zero cold. I’m tempted to work from home tomorrow cause I really don’t want to go out in this weather.
Today has been a day of quiet. I did laundry and watched charmed. John and George are in the kitchen making a stew and mulled wine. Elizabeth is at Jewel, bless her heart. It takes a lot of stones to leave in this weather.
I’m working very hard to become a competent web developer, and after months of tinkering I’m finally beginning to have some success with it. There are so many moving parts, it’s just so hard to get a handle on all of it.
On another new front, I’m going to add my latest tweets to the sidebar. Very exciting.
And now, a poem.
Who are you that wishes me gone?
Who are you that hungers for love?
Who are you, the truth, the light, the flame?
Who are you who sings his songs and writes his stories?
What muse or god has gifted you, and from where have you come?
Why visit when the world is wrapped in stillness and the night so cold?
How hungry is my heart that I would embrace you, shadow-lover?
Nay! Not this night fond dreamer. Nor the next.
Your dreams are filled with me, but mine are still of sight.
My friend,
I love you.
I honor the life that you live,
and each moment of your glory.
I honor your strength and sincerity,
and each wound you suffer wounds me.
I love you,
and will never leave, though you may
push me away in anger.
I love you,
though you may not wish my hands or hug,
and may turn on me today.
I love you,
quietly, in the darkness where
nobody can see.
I love you,
loudly, against the naysayers and
doom-sayers and hatred.
I love you,
In your sorrow and suffering,
and In your joy and celebration.
I love you,
I will not turn away from you.
I will face you, armed only with my love.
I will honor you, bare chested, with open heart.
I will counter you, and provide the foil you need,
though it wounds me.
I will touch you, though my hand may be burned.
I will love you, even in the long night,
when we cry and suffer.
I love you.