October 31, 2017

(The Celtic Halloween)

In the season leaves should love,
since it gives them leave to move
through the wind, towards the ground
they were watching while they hung,
legend says there is a seam
stitching darkness like a name.

Now when dying grasses veil
earth from the sky in one last pale
wave, as autumn dies to bring
winter back, and then the spring,
we who die ourselves can peel
back another kind of veil

that hangs among us like thick smoke.
Tonight at last I feel it shake.
I feel the nights stretching away
thousands long behind the days
till they reach the darkness where
all of me is ancestor.

I move my hand and feel a touch
move with me, and when I brush
my own mind across another,
I am with my mother’s mother.
Sure as footsteps in my waiting
self, I find her, and she brings

arms that carry answers for me,
intimate, a waiting bounty.
“Carry me.” She leaves this trail
through a shudder of the veil,
and leaves, like amber where she stays,
a gift for her perpetual gaze.

Annie Finch

To the dead

October 31, 2017

Send in the Clowns

October 31, 2017

I am not a creature that was born. I am a fire that was set.

Moss Angel
The Undying

were we not lovely…?

October 31, 2017

And wasn’t it sacred, the sweetness
we licked from each other’s hands?
And were we not lovely, then, were we not
as lovely as thunder, and damp grass, and flame?

Cecilia Woloch
from Anniversary

Slight alterations…

October 31, 2017

My language was of blood
and full of movement
of fog and morning far from fog
mouth made for speaking firm
the first forceful master of this monster form

Chase Berggrun
from R E D

And every beautiful wound has the shape of my mouth…

Hallow what…?

October 31, 2017

She prayed, and her prayer was monstrous because in it there was no margin left for damnation or forgiveness…She could not offer herself up; she only told of herself in a preoccupation that was its own predicament.

Djuna Barnes
from Nightwood)