fiat lux

 
light fairy


cicada

 
once painted, the brush
slipped to other worlds and wounds
I plowed down in hand to ©ee a signature in flower
the way ©icada grinned against the gap just then
her ©unted groove, a niche, was pressed
against the muddy tide
her titan organ, hidden
and there I learned the way things thing
they roll in thin
a painted wood in equal say in every
thing forbidden

forbid thee, O
but underneath thee, no
the foaming ©ee in silence breathes
it knows in memory
the other voice in trees
whose come still lives
untamed and teething
underneath, undead

I forgot to ask you, do you want it
this cold, cracking life in mine
the way it tasted crisp as Christ

already crowning on the vine
christ-sick, but sinfully
divine


cicada chimney
 

©2007 Hymn To ©icada A White Stocking Tale

creature, I press
to thrive like you, incestuous
O My Delight, painted in a flower
thou ancient love communion, white
mighty old in ache, with frost, my loss
spinisterly skirted
if you still want it
try find the whitéd wing I am
these three days darker


contagion
struck her soul

worn so
spelled out and spilled
the hurt and hurting, cold, dry
spray of winged unwanted me’s
me’s uglier and old in all the
witching wooded words, their singer green
the low sin, golded

& how shall I come find
in this disguise
the loss & frost bereft I left
unwanted wooder in a hunted life

& how shall I
your hecatean stealth
in hecatean health come spill
and spell the spill in me
i©y

O wooder in this ©unted life
my silent breath in thee
along the edge I live, forgive
such throw-away in wingéd singing

cicada
 

little ones, you are my h’our
and, in the way you run
you are my flow’er

 

 

Credits
..........For essay regarding fantasy metaphors (flow’er, h'our i©y, etc.) see The Hero's Journey Series Part 7 Heroic Turnings In Poetic H'ours

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