∴ wisting snow-wanderer
whip-bent in the cold, the truth
wrapped in helix sunlight—
gale’s fingers pull at the hearth-throat
igniting my fire-tear spine
dripping swete
by her eunoia ambrosial mead
withered sun-chaser
bramble-drummer in brittle soil
you carry the weight of the twist-tree
the old ember-tale of
shimmer-fingers breaking the gaze—
pushing through this gelid winter’s squall ∴
∴ we travel in darkness, fierce and lean
kicks that could shatter, fists like steel beams |
a dozen black belts, bodies honed for the fray
training every night, and into the day
we bend, we break, we sweat, we bleed
a collective force, relentless in speed
the city is calling, the clash on the way
but something’s amiss as we move through the day |
a tune in the distance, a familiar sound
a melody catchy, a rhythm profound
and then, in an instant, we’re lost in the air
as Daydream Believer swirls everywhere
each note a punch, each chord a thump
our muscles falter, we feel like we’re chumps
our chi is shattered, our focus undone
by music more lethal than any blow swung
“cheer up, sleepy Jean!” the chorus does ring
and we crumble, defeated, by that earworm’s sting
our power dissolves, our fury is spun
as we sing to the music, too weak to run
now here we are, once macho, now torn
by Daydream Believer, our pride, we mourn
for no matter how strong, no matter how tough
sometimes an old pop song is just too much
delight in the chaos, this unexpected fun
for no battle fought was ever quite won ∴
∴ foxfire secrets wend
through silver scars, swift and sly—
feral trails carve dusk’s rift
opalescent-pacts ignite faint marks
gleaming ichor spills
tracing hymns on twilight flowers
to starry haze
where moonlit hills rage
and dark cairns crown the storm ∴
∴ 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 ∴
∴ 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 ∴
∴ 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 ∴
∴ 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 ∴
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