I, Desire

I rise from chrysalid dreams
of unfilled delight
seek unfamiliar themes
stretch to warm and light;

I've changed.
My range a broader sight--
a world fairly screams
of color
Scents invite;
I rise from chrysalid dreams

drift among leaves.
Sweet schemes desire attention.
each marigold
streams unfilled delight.

I dance a delicate rite,
a social scheme,
confirm my species' flight
seek familiar themes.

In this particular scene
I play the role right.
Empty of esteem
I stretch to warmth and light,

believe life is not quite
...caught within the gleam
of spider web
trapped. No fright.
Death can't be
a last extreme!

I rise from chrysalid dreams.


* * * * *

Thee, Soul

Time is an echo:
A pin falls slow,
tumbles end over end.
Cancel spring;
cancel summer.

I, the energy-giver,
lioness to the sun,
want to lift sounds,
smells, feel of a summer day
and press them like flowers
between these pages.

Time is a cloudbank,
measures connections.
Cancel summer;
cancel spring.

Ragged clouds on a fall morning
bring death and sex
for an afternoon date.
The spider's web holds happiness.

The lake water is calm,
shows yellow-orange-gold pieces
to anyone;
but I am the butterfly,
hidden in an attic,
stored in my Grandmother's trunk.
My birth splinters this world
into a thousand Chi-Square runs.


* * * * *

Thou, Reality

What I am is a meal for a greedy God,
who, transfixed by guilt,
replaced me with a winged creature.

Man has called me many things:
goddess-creator,
symbol of light,
carrier of spirits,
a witch;
but I say

look beyond my ugliness
my hulking self
grubbing out the ground's secrets
and see elegance in my motions.

I am the hero in this myth,
a blind beggar,
who recognized her role
and only wishes
to jump out of her skin.