A Society of Unusual Watercolour Portraits.
Tuesday, July 7, 2020
Sunday, September 2, 2018
The smoke of a sombre witch asked
the smoke in an earthly wish,
“Are you my home?”
Her smoldering protected a bee in entangled berries of
nutritional wild grasses. Unconsumed by a heron
whistling to a juicy beetle nestling and with no
sexual arousal of course,
“Why do you need an earthly wish?”
That answer is like prying clams open on a savage shoreline.
(the apple snails hide among the heroic water hyacinths’,
they know better)
The answer is like the shiny orbs of a spider behind a web.
Just before a cocktail is splashed in its face.
The sound full love making prayers are absorbed in each
others ever-bite-able throats. Did you hear it?
Let the smoke of the sombre witch
sing her name over you and
clash with you.
right below the bees skimming the water of
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
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