smorgasbord of poetry, photos, political hairballs...MOTEs "More energy, grit and real life in them than 96.8% of the bullshit that comes into the Corpse."
Wednesday, May 06, 2020
as morning laid rare (2017)
as morning laid rare in rafters not wooden
the thatch still of the field in cones of gold
hemmed by song voices of women
both undressed in summer's roofless merge
in twilight tracked her dance made of stars long gone
along first faintests and marked on the beams
so that later left open, the sky
(heart always would visit)
inside cherry wood cupboards last reaches
sleep spiders dust fed and sluggish so gentle flies
off wayward cows milk the way the silky sway
showing deepest night born thirsting eyes
not lacking from cover more ancient as an echo
traced to recall some era or vault engraved forever
she once was love shown and splinters there were nun
as sun everslow wraps one in another
drowns lifting darks demise in relative pleasure
no shield woden brung to sleep sated and slain, replete
to hear as mind winnows making room for far misty
lands coined only in friendship leather-laced
patient as thunder to please light's table
in hearts caved snore down drops nine legged dis
-asteroid eyed goddess moon drunk or hunting
under there where wood knot rest in unskilled spear slinging
cracking cabinets of cherry tasked with guard of the mead
if sentries less truant existed woe to them woden
unwoken sweet strings left silver fall once waters
not larger than worry woden harbored when farm realm
keep ships home in bosom bounty
anointed in ambergris with whalebone thrones under oak timbers
borrowed from time woden met his mountain
far smitten in furs to brave more ice than hell dreameth
in cradle his young and three lions for arrows aligned
in burl arms self wooded an acorn woden gifted off to twilight
her sail soft lining gone ways left shimmered
his palace no forest but dormant lava forge
a nest of bees making honey in woden's keep
5-22-17
Portland, Oregon
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