black madonna

black goddess tree.

slicked with offerings --

unintentionally standing out

in a grove

of green,

and orange,

and yellow.

the talk of the neighborhood.

she oils her skin

smooth, like ebony,

and tries not to feel shame

when the other trees

gather and gossip about

her bare-boned seduction, 

the trim quality of her branches,

her inviting, slim trunk.

ostracized,

she receives few invitations

to festivals and petal recitals.

she pretends not to mind

and fills her time digging

in her roots.

she will need the depth

if she is to stand tall.

the birds know.

they can feel the vibration

of her grief as they roost in her

dark limbs.

they take pity

and fill her obsidian pain

with color --

brilliant reds,

cerulean,

mustard -- 

camouflaging her

from restless eyes

and greedy lips.

like wings on the updraft,

still, she rises.

(copyright 2011)

serpent girl

little serpent girl.

at once 

olive,

jungle,

asparagus,

sea, 

and sap.

snaking upward

through bone

and skin,

coiling lazily

in the center

and shedding
old skin.

scales
dripping
like
tears
so
the
fire snake
can
rise.

(copyright 2011)

scythe

puma-eyed moon,

upstaging orion

with its crater-flecked stare.

north always shines true.

winter field.

corn stalk skeletons

dance up noise,

and shiver

as matter is 

stripped,

and sucked,

and teased

 from their

brittle,
bony fibers.

there is no clinging.

no weeping.

watch.
be there.

the bending is fluid,
graced movement.

let go of the reins.

just
let
go.

(copyright 2011)

Stretching the Mind

The peace of this moment can be achieved without travel.

The brain does not actually know the difference between

breathing in this scene in reality and doing so in your imagination.

eagle storm

i race

across the plains

on a blue-coated horse.

sage is crushed

under hoof,

scenting the air

with something

that cannot be named.

a storm on the horizon.
i leap into its heart

and touch the thunder beings.

the rain pauses
its fall
and gifts me with 

a gown embellished
with a million raindrops --

all with a universe inside.

an eagle shrieks in the sky

and talons clash together

as the plunge and return begins.

"wait for me,"

it urges.

"i am coming."

and i trust that this is so.

aho.

(copyright 2011)

samhain -- oh, i miss you so

samhain.

celtic new year.

dark side of the moon.

a day to feast

and remember

the dead.

kids knock on my door.

"trick or treat,"

batman, more kid, says,

and a fairy princess 

holds up her bag expectedly.

a smile tugs at the corners of my mouth.

this is the new way of doing an old thing.

i feel emotional tonight,

remembering my grandfather,

and all my relations,

even those i never met

but who still walk with me.

later,

with love and a kiss,

i pour a hefty amount

of irish whiskey into the earth

for their feast in Tír na nÓg.

a few salt tears

fall into the mix.

oh, i miss you so.

le grá go deo

Saol fada chugat 

Cha d'dhùin doras nach d'fhosgail doras

(copyright 2011)

for bear on a friday morning

old growth pine

and i'm tucked within

the bearded mossy ones.

bear is ahead of me,

scratching itself against wood

to mark the way.

it leaves behind hair

that i reach for

and hold in my hand

like gretel.

faster now,

i jog to keep up

and watch

as moccasins form

over sneakers

and claws

form over

the leather that was
just there.

deeper.

further.

wilder we go.

i stop

as the bear joins

the great council.

"sit with us, young one."

great woman,

ursa major,

comes down out of the caelum

and heats the center.

sparks of light

flicker and dance

us into seed stars

that form

the dna of her hide

and the teeth of her

careful mouth.

i look around
and i'm out there
in the sky
with the seven sisters,
winking back at myself.

all is wild
and right.
aho.

(copyright 2011)