“The beast of the gulch is on the move. It hunts without reason. It kills without eating. Its prey is the sound of a beating heart. Within the shallows of the gulch dwells death.”
Book 9 of The Kingdom’s Disdain is available now!
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Special Effects Chest pain Is a constant A wall between myself and the body There is a chronology that I am separated from as I hover Above the flesh, noncommittal Like a prince who can’t make up his mind You’re falling into the water You’re stumbling
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Polyphony Noiseless, I cry out The sound of sunlight, the echo of still air And there are ways for you to hear me, in the motions of mortal bodies, in Two bodies becoming one because One and one can become one That’s part of the gospel
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Beginning to Breathe -I whistle as I skip past the graveyard Centuries watch unmoving, stone, Eviscerated, shorn to the core War torn, born, unmourned Like a blanket in the shiftless night Whistle with me and hold my hand tight lest I remember the days I was
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Elemental When it flies, there is a hole in the clouds A glimpse between breathes, to a city beyond the garden wall Your hand was cold, so I didn’t touch it The lines were all even, but they looked unbalanced A stream of salt water trickling
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth Luna Put in my place by The quiet between your words You have no object permanence And I’m an immaterial object Like the light of the moon Which can be seen from thousands of miles away I cannot be heard but I can move the tides
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A verse inscribed in Fire and Light. Sons of Whatever Fungi Myxomycota is the name of a species that is neither plant nor animal. It nourishes itself by photosynthesis. It needs sunlight to live. The Fungi Myxomycota reproduces asexually, splitting its cells down the middle, into two separate beings; yet, when injured, the solid mass
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Michelangelo Grief becomes you As you, shape yourself in the hands of a questioning artisan I am clay to his fingers as I try to become a featured display in your museum A piece to be admired To be envied But frozen, statue still Aiming for
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth Snap Trap Spring the trap with a touch of your finger Flowers bursting into Every fertile place The seed of envy, the seed of beginnings Light of the wild, green, estranged and entangled If weeds had souls, we would still pluck them, but we’d ascribe them
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Trauma Coping We speak Heard through the walls, like the throbbing of heavy bass or A muffled scream into a pillow as we Choke on the watery deluge rising from our core chakra You tell us, what we are, what we feel and how to dream
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Bird of Paradise What has been bound in this life shall be bound in the next And what has been lost will come back to me one day. – I descend into the sky from below the depths of the soil The space for falling is
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A poem inspired by The Muse of Cold Earth. Universe Tell me who you are Advocate on the stand beside all the witnesses and let The times that were, pass Like rain down a mountainside Once you were a child, now you’re a man Once I was a child and I’m still a child Sitting
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