What's that you say, October ?

"I had sent a rather creepy narrative poem about Sleeping Beauty, called “Beauty is Sleeping,” to a small magazine, which wrote back to me that “you can’t write about beauty in the 20th century and get away with it.”  -  Annie Finch

No ideas but in things !!

Mechanistic science would have us believe that even memory is biological. 

Every poem begins as a ring of fire.

Most end in shallow pits of ash.

Still others, flight.


Let there be ash.

Let there be light.


As the spirit 
plunges under 
and the body 
knows its sender 

and the reaper
splices the moon,
we brooders 
burst into bloom.   



Whut'd you say ?

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