Category: free verse

revels in the loom

∴ we be of
battered seed, tattered thread,
gallyhooing with the Púca ahead
mayhap he too was bound, as we,
were you there? did you see?
guffaws spilled at the threshold’s edge,
etched with heart-warmth, too bright to hedge |
mirth’s spell calls again,
and this time-thing it tapers,
focus we must on—
rumbustious capers

we bounce ‘twixt strata-light,
wriggling, winging, and now out of sight
well, never quite gone, these whimsies they stay, |
uncertain, perhaps, yet they illume the way

cosmic stars throb and beat in our veins,
scattered joys—they burn with hot blue flame |
minds full of spice,
ground for tankards of nogs—
thought-quenching delight,
poured for the voracious, we ‘wolves’,
splashed in the winds, where madness resumes, |
now replant these seeds, now rethread this loom ∴

the roar and the calm

∴ sewn between dusk and dawn
wings stitched by threaded wind—
the call of darkened flanks
half-lost soaring toward blackness—
our star-ward pulses quickening

through the fading
gathering of fragments—
drift of memories
hoarded in the borough of foxes
carved from stone and myth
into our palms, trembling
with the weight of what is forever ours
to fully bear and to share
in the momentary flash

air sharpens
as a croon of time bends
across the slopes, summits
out from the cradle of this place,
we are both the roar and the calm ∴

pyres to guide us

∴ where the grey whispers begin
the gingko trees tremble
a stillness slips through grasping branches |
moth wings flickering against blackened shungite |

zephyrs, pungent
brushing through thought-glyphs
tarnished by taipan’s touch
their story-breath stalled, yet marking time |
for the weight of a hand to move them |
the air, fragrant with salt—
fresh with illumination
drawn from the ember-core within us |

trees, now firm
their boughs speak of resilience—
reminders that the will oak bears its gravity |
and the thread weave waits to reveal itself |

walk.
through the thicket unfettered
the earth beneath, rich with discourse |
its root keeper strong, bronzed and deep |
holding steadfast where answers sleep |

this is not inaction—
nor absence, but a promise of more
stand, travelers
wait—not in vain—
for something to fracture this hold

when it comes
dawn spells will break the sky, wide
in the yet-to-be
this hush veil is ours to step through—
(alone if i must)
but never without the pyres to guide us ∴

henbit and firelight

∴ the ground spoke gruffly
crunching like old bones
under our boots

a crow carved shapes into the thinning light
its wings riddled archaic
heavy with lore

over your shoulder you glanced back at me
sky, dulled with memory,
settled into quiet agreement
now weathered in rain

at the edge of the wood
no longer could we wait for the moment to ignite
borrowed your fire,
kindling my mischief
into the silence
that sparked us something untamed

and in that breath
we woke once more, all henbit and purple-lit eyes—
burning bright
against the snow ∴

horizon’s remedy

∴ under mist-hail breath
betwixt unraveling sky
rovers we, resting our ache
sit and watch with cups brimmed
drinker’s mash
with notes of shadowed spirals
remedy of fractured amber
borne on drips of pine and wisened laughter |
its golden glow scatters in the restless air |
soft tangles of warmth eddy
spirits fill our bellies

on again roaming through
untethered paths of light
towards new horizons
snarls of storms brushing
the edges of our flight ∴

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