My river is a goddess, Verbeia,
she of the snakes, she who will bend and turn,
a twisting kelpie creature who will take
tribute, assailing with onslaughts of rain
My river is a goddess, Verbeia,
she of the snakes, she who will bend and turn,
a twisting kelpie creature who will take
tribute, assailing with onslaughts of rain
I have to step away and let myself break
to let it go
like I’m a ghost hanging from the wall (putting my head
in the mouths of ghosts
I’m a million tiny birds walking
silently on snow
The forest is alive
Branches snap in exclamation to a joke
Whispered by the trees
The wind whines in protest
To the crushing of flowers
Not by a foot but a sole
You are alone on this path
Through the underbrush
Through the pine thickets and burrs
Through the wildflower dotted fields
But you never feel alone
Over on the other side of the lake there was a huge family celebrating. They had big rose-gold balloons saying 40!, and disposable barbecues. Their smoke floated over to us on the hot breeze.
Rose led me and Hazel down towards the lake. Around us, children rushed around with an orange frisbee. Kids vaped in the shade and couples drank prosecco. Dragonflies were hooking up, green with blue, in the shallows. Ducks were leading their ducklings across the water.
I considered the possibility
That the trees may be carnivores.
Because I could have sworn
I watched someone climb one
And never again touch the floor.
And when I spied on the trees
Through the thorns,
They did not mourn.
I could have sworn
They jeered and cheered.
I knew there’d be a cloud-covered sky hereon the night of the lunar eclipseknew itI readied my eye for red moonfelt cheated whenever swirls of gray rolled infirst measurable snow forecast instead, an occasionI’d normally […]
Sitting in my room
incense burning in the living space.
Unsettled here, on the edge of Spring.
Today marks Oestara, the Vernal Equinox where I reside.
It’s 9:22pm; already one foot deeper into Spring than the Winter
And I’m having a very difficult time stepping out of my Dark Beautiful Season.
This Winter has been long and deep.
Entering it with a distracted head, focusing on the holidays and festivities—
the novelty of the seasons.
When January edged on and February came,
I was truly finding my Self in the Depths of Darkness.
Consumed by the cold Void as the days were mostly consumed by the Moonlit eve.
Although I first met this with resistance, I’ve grown comfortable here.
Not complacent or at ease, but profoundly at Home
in this fiery Underworld.