From 2009 to 2012, I spent some nights — many of them after the Kyklos Apollon ritual, which is why so many were written on Sundays — posting weird verse to Twitter.
Because I’m about to delete that old account, I thought I would share the content of the tweets here, as they evolved into a devotional practice, and I want to make them available. The way social media works now is not designed for persistence.
Two things to keep in mind: (1) I was 21 for more than half of 2009; I am 31 now, and some of these are dated. (2) Some of the imagery is a bit disturbing.
Ie paean.
| Date | Tweet |
|---|---|
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | She sleeps in a kaleidoscope of twisting dreams where the ghosts of midnight die and words stretch out for an eternity of milliseconds. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | I am not Eternity; she crawled through the bathroom window to run through grassy meadows where the mosquitoes eat her away drop by drop. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Catch raindrops under your tongue and exhale flowers in the night made of dying stars. Ride the solar wind; you are home. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Bathed in electromagnetic waves, she leaned against a doorway. Hour-counting cracks her skin; she wastes away to bones and windswept hair. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Catch words on your tongue in the court of the king of the swelling giant spewing particles from its navel-tunnel-rabbit-hole. Write future. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Arms back – talons – wet blood, broken sinews. From there they grow, rising green in the summer sun, fed from the ashes of millions. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Dreadlocks spit acid; she heaves her hair back, burning faces and hands. The dolls smile wordlessly as vines rope them in. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | I am she who spits amber words on the ground to shatter in soul-drenching light and screaming neutrinos. Keep me underground with the mist. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Serpents shatter eardrums with quick-flicking tongues, blind with the light glancing off their skin. Worlds die, crushed beneath shed skin. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Night kiss means shadow-steps, tongue-blades scraping skin, scent of jasmine in the courtyard. We exist in cracks between dreams, your lips. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Limitless mouths burning with the fire of a thousand suns. Ultraviolet, infrared lashes, herein newborn birds taste their first souls. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | We weave incandescence, the tapestry of lies and truth, the two-sided coin beneath the dead man’s tongue. We cut him from bleeding vines. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Hold her veil of night in clenched fists. Rip it from her eyes. The stars fall, scattered across the midnight sky. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | Vines burrow through flesh toward the brain, dislodging blood to replace with fine intoxicating sap. Count the grapes falling down his chin. |
| Sunday, April 5, 2009 | I oscillate, following magnetic fields without will; between the green earth and harsh light, I hang by my hands and watch without seeing. |
| Monday, April 6, 2009 | Dandelion seed cities blow on the wind. Colonies stick to my shirt. Immature petals stain my fingertips, yellow as smoke-free cigarettes. |
| Tuesday, April 7, 2009 | Lighter, strike, flame: all these things mean worship, the eternal song and voiceless cry. Secret and known, your epithets ring in my ears. |
| Tuesday, April 7, 2009 | They pass bearing palms and figs, dates and oil. White-robed girls ankled with bells teach rebirth as men slit throats in the taurobolium. |
| Wednesday, April 8, 2009 | We gouged smoldering stars from sky-sockets, ground them into fine hot clay, mixed with the blood of a thousand dead worlds. |
| Wednesday, April 8, 2009 | Seven stars sang in the skies, dancing in their solar winds, while the watchers basked in their gamma radiation, decaying with each second. |
| Wednesday, April 8, 2009 | Furies slashed her open at the navel as he watched, bound with his own sinews to the atomic clocks, the debt of divine intervention. |
| Wednesday, April 8, 2009 | Cavern spray showers pictographs with water. Their voices echo, inhuman, as luminescent dead eyes witness the eternal night overhead. |
| Wednesday, April 8, 2009 | From star-ash and iron casts, we fitted the molecules together, breathing lightning into being in the clay-rich muds of the first worlds. |
| Thursday, April 9, 2009 | Kissing stars burned her lips black as midnight, writing tales turned her hair to wet ink. If you ever embrace that cold body, read the … |
| Thursday, April 9, 2009 | stories that spiral up her arms like twisting smoke from a harlot’s cigarettes illuminated by a small-town bar’s bare bulb. |
| Thursday, April 9, 2009 | @TheDreadess Electromagnetic waves strobe; you listen with eyes, speak with fingertips. I offer thanks. From the green sun comes revelation. |
| Friday, April 10, 2009 | Mist is my transient lover who shields me from cliff-creeping dawn, who dies and is resurrected with each setting sun. |
| Tuesday, April 14, 2009 | My soul upon which they wrote the secrets divulges nothing without heat, nothing without light; I dance on the wind like an origami bird. |
| Tuesday, April 14, 2009 | A thousand shards of glass winnow in sunlight, winding together like light-culled vines or deoxyribonucleic acid tendrils. We are homeless. |
| Tuesday, April 14, 2009 | Dangle your feet above the dark hole as you pluck your own innocence away. Its warning bell alerts the ruler: who is blameless now? |
| Tuesday, April 14, 2009 | Blade-ribbons in her hair whip against my skin; she draws me in; my mortality resists. When she enfolds her lips around mine, I am reborn. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Innocence stands in a field of daffodils, lost among them in her yellow dress like a boat in the limitless sea. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Terror dragged them down through worm-rich soil by the ankles. The holes they left remain open Earth-wounds from which monsters come. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Let the incense rise from the altars; abandon neither them nor righteous dissent. From the cracks comes our strength. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Thoughts beat at the window like birds demanding entrance only to trap themselves unwittingly in my mind where they echo like shades. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | One grasped the multitude from behind, pretending friendship; this one showed them serpents in boxes and trees of plenty. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Pull the blood-drenched vines from her arteries; analyze them beneath the microscope, find the secret of this brutal baptism into paradise. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Grace put the seed in her mouth. It tasted of copper and old coins, grapes and mavrodafni. All who swallow meet Hades; all become his bride. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Running again; he chases; I am chaste. Curling my legs together, I dress myself in the bark-armor of the wilds, unbroken yet tamed. |
| Sunday, April 19, 2009 | Hook blue hair around her ears; watch the diamonds sparkle in her eyes. An eternity of stars passes in and out of being within her head. |
| Wednesday, April 29, 2009 | She blows paper swan thoughts in her cupped hands and watches them rise in the setting sun. |
| Wednesday, April 29, 2009 | Selene peeks out from her veil of clouds, the slender maiden in a gray chiton, in the first steps of her circle dance. |
| Sunday, May 3, 2009 | Seven worlds pulsate beneath her fingertips. From the word they begin and end; in her mind instantaneous eternity finds expression. |
| Tuesday, May 5, 2009 | Anticipation holds your eyes glued to the deep gray sky. You stand on the mountaintop, your arms upraised to receive and burn. |
| Tuesday, May 5, 2009 | Take and give an eternity of morning, raise yellow oils to the dawn sky. He is there watching from the shadow of a sycamore tree. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Touch your serpentine tongue to my fingertips. Let them run across pages and keys capturing the universe in leaves blowing on the wind. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Green comes up from the ground to meet her sky-yellow hair; chlorophyll encircles the corn woman’s rich offerings, given freely to all. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Still your tongue. Pretend it is glass against the roof of your mouth that an artisan made for her portfolio shown only to the worthy. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Fire is purification, the breaking of bonds. We pass into the sky as smoke and catch in a new baby’s breath like tar soot. We become her. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Give the blue one her due; put coins in her mouth and ribbons in her hair. She spends her evenings in the house of the sun drinking tea. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Follow the red road down to the caves where Pandora lies with her box. Evil has gone from here now; out there it remains a plague among men. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Cut tongues breed unrest. The chased becomes the pursuer while the poets sing tied to their lyres like bandits hanging from nooses. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | Writhe within her darkness. She becomes the darkness with red-rimmed eyes, the tears in the deep velvet night, when you turn from her. |
| Sunday, May 10, 2009 | You blow away on the breeze like a helium balloon untied from a child’s wrist. He did not see you; the chariot had already passed. |
| Sunday, May 17, 2009 | Music gives my skin heartbeats of glass that shatter in the blink of an eye never to come again. |
| Sunday, May 17, 2009 | See the wandering girl. The flowers pull color from her cheeks and cut through her hair into her skin, feeding on sweet mortality. |
| Sunday, May 17, 2009 | Heartbeats strobe. Red light collects on her arms and face, pools in her palms. Eyes shed tears the color of iron-tangy blood. |
| Sunday, May 17, 2009 | The mind at rest from torment gathers strength in the secret copses of the mind, building serenity brick by brick. |
| Sunday, May 17, 2009 | Words and images knit together; they are scar tissue on white paper. (Terribly beautiful, simply complex.) Keep the droplets on your tongue. |
| Sunday, May 17, 2009 | A man whispers nonsense in the secluded dark of sap-pumping trees. If his ears kissed bark, the leaves would teach him the Fates’ tongue. |
| Sunday, May 17, 2009 | Rest in the oblivion of dreams, row your mind through sanctified fantasy. The soft tongue cuts like steel blades; the hard one shatters. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | An adder sleeps where the child walks, hidden beneath fall leaves. Reasonless, it attacks when she notes its distance from home. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | Thunder rumbles like passing trucks; creation imitates nature, breathes renewed life into it through metaphor, challenges it to exist. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | It waits in the darkness: can’t you hear it? It growls and moans with hunger, cries for your blood, and it rules the sunlit paths. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | The moon knows things you can never know. That is why she must leave; that is why she spins. Dancing, she knows the secrets of creation. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | Tattoo stars on her skin. This is heaven’s map, Earth’s beginning and end. She keeps it and waits for the time to scream—to let it end. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | Questions from apt eyes burn them like acid rain wastes away at trees. In this constant downpour, where can they hide but your open arms? |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | Wind rips my essence away, tears sound from my lips and brushes tears from my eyes. Dispersed, I take shelter in you. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | Sixteen drops fall gently on her tongue from the heavens like rain more precious than gold in the neon lights of the darkened city. |
| Sunday, May 24, 2009 | Take the mountain to the stream and run back again until your breath comes short and your mind awakens; this is the key to success. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | She kept herself in the rolling winds and tumbling rocks, hidden away from seekers combing through riverbeds and marshes. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | Starlight weighs down her tongue and fresh moonlight cleans her body, purifies it, preparing her for marriage with the dawn. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | Do not think that the wandering ones cannot hear; their plucked-out eyes drip vision and purity. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | Keep the path silent and pure. Shadowy ones watch in the distance, their hair torn and mangled, for those who speak what is sacred. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | Danger lies in serpentine tongues and alien eyes hiding in city corners, ransoming the future for pocket change. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | @annyikha The mind weaves itself into a helix that wraps in on itself like a labyrinth, the perfect antenna for divine thought. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | Her lips sucked petals from tree-flowers and sap ran down her chin like pure milk. This baptism of the flesh came without warning or need. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | Each song has its beginning and end, harmonies and countermelodies, woven as securely in organic tones as bone tissue. All else is noise. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | Destruction sees a fresh city before him. “Take me to the moon,” the masses say. “I will for slices of burning humanity.“ They pay. |
| Sunday, May 31, 2009 | The birds sing in the forests. Dissonance reigns supreme if only for a moment. Below the surface, deaf worms go about business as usual. |
| Sunday, June 14, 2009 | Her hair is like incense: swift-burning, smoke-giving. The smoke smells like pain and sacrifice as it rises in contemplation of the Divine. |
| Sunday, June 14, 2009 | Wrap roses around your ankles. Dip your toes three times in the chilly water. Chewed petals make you drunk; he exists where time whirls. |
| Sunday, June 14, 2009 | A girl stands on a platform beside choked weeds and crumbled brick buildings. She stares at the water. No one put a coin under her tongue. |
| Sunday, June 14, 2009 | Ivy fuses the curvaceous and the straight: always forming lines, always twisting, always wandering, like his muscles or her dark, dark hair. |
| Sunday, June 14, 2009 | Wrap the shroud around yourself, white like virginity and death. It fuses against your clammy skin, fuses you to me. We become eternity. |
| Sunday, June 14, 2009 | Six eyes watch without seeing, speak without hearing, taste without feeling. During a war, all bartered senses for towers of goblin gold. |
| Sunday, June 14, 2009 | Light thaws, rushes, creating multiplicity out of one, a river from sweating ice blocks. Too little creates fractures; too much, a torrent. |
| Sunday, June 21, 2009 | Painted like moonbeam incarnate, she wanders the night alone, lost in the sea of wind-smeared faces, an impressionistic dream. |
| Sunday, June 21, 2009 | Delicate flowers linger on her eyes, the promise of a tomorrow where cages disappear and once-ensnared birds take flight. |
| Sunday, June 21, 2009 | They gambled with peaches covered in ashen designs. Fruits fall one by one to the fairest; she consumes them utterly and spits out the pits. |
| Sunday, June 21, 2009 | The city’s siren song is madness, a rush of blood, a half-spent breath. When it rushes over you, you will feel all of it: |
| Sunday, June 21, 2009 | Love, hatred, remorse, regret. It will burrow into you like a carnivorous worm, devour you and keep you alive, until you collapse into dust. |
| Sunday, June 21, 2009 | You are my electromagnetic storm. Pulsing within me, cutting through me like newborn trees, you cut me off, yet feed me to eternity. |
| Sunday, June 28, 2009 | A dead offering of flowers to the girl with snakes in her hair: roses for the husband she will never have until she dries up into dust. |
| Sunday, June 28, 2009 | Moonlight is the spear point the ancients envisioned when they drove stone against flint. Curving, twisting, it always finds its mark. |
| Sunday, June 28, 2009 | Sweet dreams and kisses to the girl with black hair, child of the summer wind and the winter frost, who built her home from peach pits. |
| Sunday, June 28, 2009 | Wind paints her lips across the horizon, curls her fingers around the forest, bares her inside to soft night. Her essence abates. |
| Sunday, June 28, 2009 | Pulses beat beneath my fingertips: possibilities and lives yet untold. Serpents four kissed them; my mind opened to glorious bounty. |
| Sunday, June 28, 2009 | Aphrodite hides among the reeds. An apple seed necklace slides over her oil-stained breasts. She flees sailors who rut in shacks by the sea. |
| Sunday, June 28, 2009 | Give me a raspberry to lay on my tongue. Let me crush the dye against my teeth; with it I will paint Saturn and Jupiter, all for you. |
| Sunday, July 12, 2009 | Sixteen needles pierce the spider’s tongue, winding the way down to Hades where shades creep and the jade-pounders work at their wheels. |
| Sunday, July 12, 2009 | Streams of electromagnetic illusions pulsate, reverberating throughout the universes and spaces between like sirens in cold, rainy nights. |
| Sunday, July 12, 2009 | Fill me like a jar that once sat broken and open to the pouring rain. Cup light within and seal the neck with wax from the offering-candles. |
| Sunday, July 12, 2009 | Red-dressed destruction wears tattoos of blood that streak down her arms. When she speaks, her silver tongue whirs and clicks like a watch. |
| Sunday, July 12, 2009 | Between the sides of the coin runs a web where spiders spit silk in their mouths. Thousands lie in wait for dream-penetrators and thieves. |
| Sunday, July 12, 2009 | Waking dreams smear essence across pixelated reality, singing through her veins. Sirens broke into her head one night and stopped her ears. |
| Sunday, July 12, 2009 | Children lie in gutter-prisons staring up at the blue sky. Sunless and dreamless, they wait for the ones who stole their lives to die. |
| Sunday, August 2, 2009 | Sweet navel, a blessing on humankind, you sustain us with morsels of divine nourishment. The time has come; we shall awaken to sleep. |
| Sunday, August 2, 2009 | Rushing ivy covers the fence and line of sight; tasteless grapes obscure reason, driving the senses to madness. He is beyond it all. |
| Sunday, August 2, 2009 | Rush and it slackens; pull and it gives greater resistance. Defeat through yielding, sleepless and in pain, to the laurel-crowned lord. |
| Sunday, August 2, 2009 | Moonbeams stick to eyes, pulling gazes upward towards the crescent moon; waxing, she courts the rustling fowl; waning, empty wheat husks. |
| Sunday, August 2, 2009 | Moments of time, strung on strings: blue and black, yellow and stormy red, they extend from timelessness—anchors to lead us home. |
| Sunday, August 2, 2009 | Her living body becomes his servant; the vines climb up her wet thighs and curl around her soft belly; grapes burst from her mouth. |
| Sunday, August 2, 2009 | Seconds from revelation, truth hid itself again, breaking from its cage to sleep until dawn when its birdsong awakened the world. |
| Sunday, August 16, 2009 | Women spin. Stars dangle from their skirts, whipping around their bodies. From their sweating bodies the first rivers derived their waters. |
| Sunday, August 16, 2009 | Keep her mouth locked with vines, her hands bound with the tapestry of life and death, lest she lead you into the subterranean world. |
| Sunday, August 16, 2009 | Coin eyes stare up; sockets drip blood. The fallow Earth opens her mouth to drink the blood of her children and the marrow in their feet. |
| Sunday, August 16, 2009 | Sublime clarity comes to the tongue-tied child; she draws it in chalk. Her teachers wipe away the divine images. I can still see the lines. |
| Sunday, August 16, 2009 | Honey-dusted cakes glitter in soft candlelight; the night air hangs oppressed in the room. Diamond skin leaves no room for sweat. |
| Sunday, August 16, 2009 | Awaken to reality, moist with your own lust. The room is filled with ladders to oblivion, each ornamented with glass shards. |
| Sunday, August 16, 2009 | Clockwork nymphs guard the oilways, their copper hair dripping with engine oil and machine grease. These are the children of the gods. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | In that dress you were buried beneath cypress and bay. It was as delicate as tree bark and transient as a sigh. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | She glanced at me from afar; my heart took me to the altars of Aphrodite and Eros where the unrequited woo the favor of our arrow-pourer. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | Ethereal vastness, night sky: you hold them all. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | String the bed with ivy ribbons and hide yourself between the lace sheets that scrape against your smooth-oiled breasts, palms pressed down. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | Praise the teasing sun who dances through the summer leaves, fading and unraveling as he comes to rest in your eyes. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | Seven fruits of the vine greet your opened mouth, overripe and intoxicating—poisonous to swallow. Hold for the eighth. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | Spin in my ultraviolet daydream where the sun pulsates like strobes and the vines bake a husky green. I am the space between all light. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | Swirl in saffron, anachronistic yet genuine; keep the mysteries crossed until the right one comes for you to breathe them into her mouth. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | Undone, facing you on a moonlit night between the pages time stole, a dream never envisioned to last. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | Quiet the moving gold in your hair. Loosen Aphrodite’s charms from your strong shoulders. Slip inside my open chiton; enfold within me. |
| Sunday, September 20, 2009 | She is given to wax-sticky fingertips, to feared candlelight, but still the dawn comes and the fixed stars shine, spinning. |
| Sunday, November 8, 2009 | Secrets are baubles hidden beneath crisp white dresses and in deep jean pockets, murmuring so none but the intimate may hear. |
| Sunday, November 8, 2009 | Given freely, decided — this is the cup from which the wine pours forth onto the hard, cold ground at midnight-light. |
| Sunday, November 8, 2009 | Her eyes staring out from coarse roped hair, that rough skin, the untamed waves of her movements—all enticed—too fair not to be seen. |
| Sunday, November 8, 2009 | Sing the stars into their orbits; cast the planets out like jewels in the Kosmos’s headdress. The solar wind falls like rain. |
| Sunday, November 8, 2009 | The water is lethargic like a woman resting on her couch flipping magazines. She flips the pages between red fingernails, but nothing moves. |
| Sunday, November 8, 2009 | A day passed between her ears, a night slipped between the floorboards in a rush of minutes: a flood that swept away all it touched. |
| Sunday, November 8, 2009 | Gone are summer head-wreaths and sweet wind pulling her loose robes. She draws a cloak tightly around herself; obsidian crowns her head. |
| Thursday, January 21, 2010 | The chrysalis unravels like braided spring ribbons. I am undone;—but still I search—a lyre plays beyond the shimmering sunset. |
| Thursday, January 21, 2010 | String syllables together like prayer beads. Place them in the jar. Shake them softly, roughly. The order changes, yet they remain the same. |
| Thursday, January 21, 2010 | Aphrodite favors you. Unseen, she strapped her breastplate around your supple torso; unknowing, you lean forward; undone, I desire. |
| Saturday, January 23, 2010 | The siren speaks again, rushing like blood and water, sweat and glacial melts. Cracks spread; the statues melt, succumbing to their call. |
| Sunday, February 14, 2010 | In dappled sunlight she runs, catching the wind between her teeth and tearing it like a wild beast in the grass; none has vanquished her. |
| Sunday, February 14, 2010 | See midnight catch on the stones of the deep. They are beacons to the souls of those who once were, speaking with tongues of ash. |
| Sunday, February 14, 2010 | In the hall of sweet-smelling wood, there is a man who smiles as he turns his wine glass; sharks swim in his eyes below the surface. |
| Sunday, February 14, 2010 | Spring breaks on the shore with the celestial tide, moving us home. There were four and now one among the rushes, waiting. |
| Sunday, February 14, 2010 | Two girls move like water around and through, separated by distance. They are two coins I clutch in my hand; the third fell to earth. |
| Sunday, February 14, 2010 | In the darkness, the wheels move. You can know where they are, but you cannot catch their reflections. |
| Sunday, February 14, 2010 | A mouth opens wide; life crawls from her breaking lips. The miracle passes into the world like vomit, detested and discarded as rubble. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Keep sparrows on your right like that girl with the long blond hair, always looking for ways to make her way in, never right. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Somebody once walked by the old mill long before time began, and they walk their still, glancing between cracks in the new house fence. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Keep the spiral at your back like a photon ever-traveling, but beware of mirrors. They will take you back to where you began. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Cut her and from within the birds will fly, mouths from the deep beyond the grids of space and time; she will fall to the ground like paper. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | There, they clench their fists; the world is undone. Drops of rain fall up in the sky and the rivers flow from ocean to mountain. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | A cathedral of sand lies at her back, towering in the desert. Look beyond the diamonds and silver hairpieces. Clutch the vellum tight. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Catch the sunrise of a newborn star through the dust; sail on its jets deep into the black where no one can touch you but the Gods. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | They spoke nothing. One bound her hair while the other sewed her mouth. Screams are currency; she could not escape if she had none. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Keep me in the clouds. The wax in my wings is still hard; I want to see the sky from up high, dark blue with a hint of stars. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Beyond light and time, deep in stillness, they say to drink. There is no thirst: you have already filled yourself from the living fountain. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Gates need hinges to speak. See that one? Disuse has squeaked its needy voice. Sit and listen; it will open a pathway where tame lions play. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | We make mockery of union, each in his own tower. Should the walls crumble, we will be left alone, blinking at the wonder of other faces. |
| Sunday, April 11, 2010 | Sit. Pour sounds through your ears; listen to the wonders of brooks unheard for a thousand generations. Do not turn away from the dust. |
| Sunday, January 2, 2011 | One fled through the dark on wings beating with blood. Oxygen-starved, it fell through the sky and the fire caught it, reducing it to ash. |
| Sunday, January 2, 2011 | Let the light shine so bright it cuts you. Feed Lethe with your tears, memories drop by drop until she thrives and you are left empty. |
| Sunday, January 2, 2011 | Something curls from beneath, raises itself up. We see flashes of bone and hot blood breaking in the night. Photons hurt my eyes. |
| Sunday, January 2, 2011 | Give in once again to the rushing waters. Your flesh becomes cold; you are the river now, just thinking and breathing, keeping your head up. |
| Sunday, January 2, 2011 | Papers rest neatly on the windowsill, churning and breaking apart, decay so slow none will see it; the ideas never rot. They alone save you. |
| Sunday, January 2, 2011 | She breathes, and it comes in through her nostrils, down to her lungs where it meets blood and brain and muscle, this fire we call air. |
| Sunday, January 2, 2011 | The gate opens, spreading tendrils of light in all directions. The horses trod them underfoot until they tangle and fall to Earth. |
| Thursday, March 10, 2011 | A cornucopia of stars swirls overhead, spitting world system after world from its mouth, ever-flowing with new growth. |
| Sunday, March 13, 2011 | No one found you among the rubble. They walked around where you lay, eyes on the sky, hearts gnawing their chest. Ruin sharpens her knife. |
| Sunday, March 13, 2011 | Light bursts into being on thousands of worlds. Everywhere, waves crest on beaches and microbes squirm in the wet sand. |
| Sunday, March 13, 2011 | Paint your eyes black, like obsidian. Hold your head high and know you can face the chariot of the sun. |
| Sunday, March 13, 2011 | The ground has opened where the sun rises red and goddesses hide in clammy caves, shooting staffs into the sky. |
| Sunday, March 13, 2011 | Words are serpents coiling up the throat and kissing another’s ears. We never know the truth of those we hear. |
| Sunday, March 13, 2011 | The sky bends upon itself. It pulls you in. Look away from it or you will fall past that blue rice paper into the cold black. |
| Sunday, March 13, 2011 | The world hums, alive, while the light curls up the horizon, resting against Earth like a favorite grandson. |
| Wednesday, January 4, 2012 | The coin breaks like waves scattering through midnight trees, riding on echoes of mushrooms budding through bark and worm-knotted soil. |
| Wednesday, January 4, 2012 | Fill me like a jar that once sat broken and open to the pouring rain. Cup light within and seal the neck with wax from the offering-candles. |
| Wednesday, January 4, 2012 | Keep following and twisting in the mirages, bending between spheres and along spider netting, caught in the labyrinth of broken shells. |
| Wednesday, January 4, 2012 | He gave her to the fens and swamp vines — lashed them like rivers across her skin to catch and pull her under — to grab her back again. |
| Wednesday, January 4, 2012 | They stumble sidewalk-lipped with salt in their bellies and the ravings of delirium on their tongues, a sacrifice to deception and thievery. |
| Wednesday, January 4, 2012 | The coins toss and tumble, but their answer always resides in the rumbling of the summer sky and the swan’s bone-breaking wings. |
| Sunday, January 8, 2012 | Long ago, she came: a girl rotting in the fens, placed there by a poet, resurrected by archaeologists. I still feel her rough hair. |
| Sunday, January 8, 2012 | Pluck them senseless from the vines. Suck red-stained fingertips and dye your teeth red with berries, plants that never will soak sunlight. |
| Sunday, January 8, 2012 | Try to rip the sands from the beaches and they will still remain, the scar you leave only to be washed away in the cleansing tides. |
| Sunday, January 8, 2012 | Snow falls on the houses, each drop a fragmented memory, sharp until it melts into the all-devouring earth. |
| Sunday, January 8, 2012 | Cutting and mending, bending and breaking, they come through the forests, giants in their own minds, forever seeking eternity. |
| Tuesday, February 21, 2012 | A boy pulls vines up by their roots. Thorns prick his tender fingers. The leaves wither in the sun, yet this culprit remains, exalted. |
| Tuesday, February 21, 2012 | Sweet like ink’s bitter bouquet, yet forgotten in sands unsifted: Without its taste on our fingers, what are our words but silence? |
| Sunday, April 1, 2012 | Dark grapes drop from her mouth, slick with saliva, onto the wet, well-trodden ground. Earth devours them, ever-hungering, without care. |
| Sunday, April 1, 2012 | Like a melody, this thirst that shakes through the limbs and leaves the mind self-aware and blind, wind through the corn husks. |
KALLISTI 
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