These were the cards I dealt

the night I was falling

down another hole,

plus that over the top,

melodramatic, Ten of Swords.

 

Like a dead leaf on a chain

I prepared for The Bardo.

The Hanged Man a rush of blood to the head,

The Priestess higher than I was low

and a X of blades in the back.

 

But all in all it was needed medicine

and between the shadow and the light

I confessed myself free,

returning

as me.

 

 


 

 


 

I moon the night with prophesies.

Do you hear her in my voice,

The Oracle?

 

My nest is full of tiny bones and skulls

and i will read your secret name with them

should you ask me for a song.

 

and bring me

sacrifice.


 




 

the key is offered

the angel of paradox

reveals everything

and nothing

 

i confess

i am useless at riddles

crosswords or games with eggtimers

so the mystery remains

 

the key is offered

i made it so

but that doesn't mean i get it

the beyond belief


 


 

she knew immediately

the symbolism, the references,

the memory, the confession.

 

there are people in my life

who know more about me than I do.

I make my confessions to them.





more a gentle summer breeze really

a mere puff of air

the sounds of each letter of my disclosure

a balmy zephyr marshmallow

melting on my tongue

 

but it's her hand that touches me

a cat's paw on my skin

a compass pointing to the silent passages

between the sound of each letter

of my disclosure


 


 

veiled whispers reversed

Putti lobotomized

trees wither

language crumbles

and

disintigrates

 

beware  straight black lines

she said

and listen

carefully

to the poetry

of clouds

 

birds fly upside down

through the smudged charcoal

of falling ash

Time cracks open

fragmenting

silence

 

a mad man

now wears the crown

oh say,

don't you hear

the old gods

laughing?

 

 




says

I am your winter bush

I am cold but I can light your fire

My body is open but

my heart is a ball of snow

 

says

I am Alpha and Omega

Child of Time, illusion of love

I touch you with red burn of ice

and the silver rose

 

says

Look deeper than confess

I am never my words

I am always almost spring

I am the winter of your discontent.

 





spirit bird child

learning to fly

will you dance a dance with me

across the sky