Friday, December 11, 2015

Chipped Emeralds

With eyes like chipped Emeralds, the mermaid stole
everyone’s attention. Her voice raspy like a summer hive,
she noted, “What if truth were a slithering force or a

Or, a stinging bee unusually flying in December?”
Her cheeks rosy with concern were only a tiny
chamber of the hexagon that hid her emotions.

The crowd leaned forward, you know in
alley cat curiosity, their hearts beating like a
rapid wing of the bee, hung on her wingbeat
frequency. Of course though, her wingbeats
were fins.

Her language stumbled like figure eights corresponding
to an abstract code.  She waggled, “Would you speak
the truth if it hurt?”

Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Odin's Ravens Meet Her Broom

No sooner did you turn the moon into liquid
and pour it over me,
splashing like Odin’s silver coins
on my thighs, that your riches gave me the hint.
You are Odin.
No crest fallen lies, no spiritual disguise
just nine enchanted herbs
in your garden of cures.
You are the catalyst for each old fashioned warlock
each trickster witch
while they spoon each other after
“Did you feel that?” she asks,
“Did you hear me?” he answers,
as they pull their sticky thighs apart like
pine honey on silver coins.

Her eyes black like Odin’s ravens, dance
like Odin’s swords before nestling to
sleep entangled like Odin’s wolves
guarding the dream peninsula.

Your seed threads my root
in spiritual botany while
my ash, birch and
willow lay bound
beneath our

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

Naked Navy

Your wilderness is nothing more than my eternal navy sky.
Make your bed in my golden Savannah grass where there are no thirsting temple rules.  A lioness bed is my curvy body and while you are licking, I will smile.
You hold the secret of my thunder.  The secret is that the stars must shift.
That shift creates the boom and everyone longs for the boom.
Are you ready; we are the shifters holding the cords to the primordial stars.
The same charismatic cords that move the stars to crack the boom.
Let’s paint each other in naked navy and we can nourish the stars.
My mouth waters to taste you and me.  This is me when you are my wilderness.
In naked navy.

Tuesday, January 21, 2014

sleepy madness

Hope served me a deep pillow for my sleepy madness.  You know this;
an attendant held a silver tray and we heard chimes in this late night wind
of a late night world.  Like the brutal swing and fall of each wager
between you and I that tonight will be the coldest night of the year,
so too the polar bears snuggle by the fire.  Or do they?

You know this; telling someone you are in love with them.  Standing nude
as fuck in words, in worlds.  Fuck.  That is the moment you take back any sort
of king status  you offered with a pillow and thank the sweet cold earth holding
your feet that there are more princes.   The polar bears snuggle a strange bluespruce, instead.  Dear King, you will never exhaust me.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


My blanket held tight to your bed space.
I know you left to inhale a few breaths of
our afterlife.  Fuck, I love you and your snoring
lion eyebrows.  You were panting over there and I listened.
Your heart told me to listen.

Thanks for looking after my gods while I was away.
I know the roses and all the whittled woods and the
soundless cheers struck the night slumber back to my life,
with you.  I feel your knuckle on my clit.

My loins pulse for you.
We both hunger like mother fucking lovers.
The Callapania Queen wears her dandelion crown
rejoicing our sex from her tall ship that sails in and out
of my home.  Your tongue is a sailor and I am your ocean.

My aura filled the corners of my cold house.
I watch longtails sail in and through
and then back out.  You were never
really here but I know you will be

Until then, I’m sailing.

Sunday, February 17, 2013


The sun and the moon are the ardent eyeballs of the Kodiak sky bear
unconsciously denning.  She chiffonades the stars with her paws.
The strands of sliced stars are no longer yawning cosmic waters
but cropmilk for mewling newborns.

We get raw and sensual with each other and that’s only the physical.
I scratch a sonnet onto the cavewall because I can’t wait to tell you.
You plunge onto me and we pant in each other’s face.
We hold hands and I know you’re here.
I was so tired of being alone that my mind started fucking up.
It’s a Mama Shango winter trick.  We all get a little sad and tuck it away
like a dirty cocktail napkin that was coastering my winter swig.

Here we are you and I.  We love each other with Kodiak bear monogamous devotion.
You make this so easy for me; I don’t even need a dirty cocktail napkin for us.

The bearded Gods always have serpents and I am a serpent.
And you are bearded.
We get raw and sensual with each other and that’s only the physical.

Thursday, January 3, 2013

raven black

Your raven black eyes boast the best innocence I’ve ever met.
What you can’t see is what I love.

I wake up with this craving to carve my underarms creating a home.
It’s like that is all I can think of – shifting the place where I want you to find me.
That definition requires dedication.

That is my alchemical hidden heaven.  It is the faultlessness.
The fat of the sun burns the lines of my godly underarm.

You touch the still water and I touch the seed fire.
And solar flowers grow.
And wolves’ ears become agile.
And the Goddess Circe reminds me that
panthers, pythons, and peacocks look at us with the eyes of men whom we knew long ago.

Let me find my Immortal Adam in your raven black eyes and tell him to drive himself on my pussy.
His red skin is the burns of the fat sun that we share.
Drink my ocean and find your home right