Seeking spirits roam
in soft, inked blackness of midnight;
come to touch our flesh
and awaken us to dreams
on their quest.
In vignettes from the past
embedded in the dark velvet
desire to know,
they show us truths --
these ghosts of our own selves
whose hungers refuse to die
or even fade.
I can fly again--
On the silver streams of Night's wind
And red-veined wings made young
As the Past's first breath.
Her love still sweetly coats my tongue;
It's faint blush lingers
As a memory,
Blurring the edge of twilight
In my eyes,
Opening my forever
Fresh as evening primrose
Rising to Moon's beckoning pull -
While in the swelling shadow
Of these wings,
A more lovely blossom fades.
In the unbending line of my vision,
You are the world I've worshipped
Through Time's pretense from this silent perch.
A pale quiescence, carefully crafted;
Heavenward reach of granite wings
Parts dark streams of passing shrouds
To praise my forgiving Moon.
A vantage point
Where eagles, too envious,
Could never sit.
And with no shield
From Sun's vengence,
Do I envy the eagles' choice
While over this rocky skin
That one emotion grows
Moss green as you witness,
As this curse, I slowly ingest;
Of eyes forever fixed to watch the sun wake
Between the tips of angelic arrogance.
But I take your beauty as my revenge;
My ugliness, recompense --
A hideous horizon am I,
For your sun to set behind.
It was you who lead me here;
Spread your robes at my feet
And sang me to my knees;
Broke my fall from grace
With a velvet pillow of truth
And watched me sin, alone.
Your shadow witnessed the communion
Of my desire and my flesh
From the open doorway of the past
As I worshipped at the altar you built;
Infected with my mad temptations;
Effected by the sting of your confession -
By a silver flick of its tongue
That lashed into this innocent perfection
An octave lower than I could reach.
Your pureness should suffer
To see such sin, full-fleshed.
Shed your white collar
And kneel with me.
I found my end
in the borrowed book of spells;
invited the torments
of a thousand demons.
Each new page willingly turned
awakens a new devil
More vicious than the one before;
that gnaw into tender,
Each word widens the wound;
a tiny, glass sliver
racing through my veins.
But the devils were always here,
waiting to be named;
waiting to save me.
Love, Mother Earth
Throw away your shoes,
Time to dance.
The soft clatter of ritual beads
You wear in the muted tones
Of my flesh
Are my music --
Your statement of Truth;
Your way of being subtle,
Not to shock meek siblings
Whose inheritance looms;
like grim fairytales
Above fool's gold halos;
Above honeydew heads
Not lacking of seed
But empty of meat.
They come waddling after you
In droves, in dreams,
Like Keystone Cops, shouting,
While I shake my head and tell you
There's no sense in being polite.
Duck the little waddlers' clubs--
Bare your soles.
Let them suck in pious breath
At the naked freedom I gave you
And choke on their poisoned airs.
(I made you a wicked nymph for a reason)
You were not meant to wear their shoes
But warm your soles
Against my flesh instead;
Who created the rhythms
And the dance;
The heart that pumps life into itself.
You are no orphan.
In these arms you grasped the depths
Of Night's purest dark,
Watched time flow
Through eyes that have seen Forever pass
At the moon's reflection there.
A deeper chill,
You will never know
Or would dare guess
This heart's silent age
Where these sanguine steps have fallen,
But only wonder
If the promise would keep;
If they will lead to you again
Some midnight's bottomless black.
That silly flute really does you no good.
I only humor you because I love your deep eyes.
They are all that keeps me from striking -
But you think I am mesmerized.
You could come with me.
Let me show you my desert.
Slide beside me and feel warm sand shift beneath your belly.
We'll leave serpentine waves behind us
And look down from a dune's crest to admire our delicate traces.
We'll lie on the rocks and let the sun warm our cold blood
While we argue the pros and cons of forbidden fruit.
You could come with me.
Let me embrace you by night in cool, silvery coils;
Wrap you in serpent wings
And taste your scent with the black forks of my tongue.
You can watch the moon's reflection in my eyes while I tempt you.
I ask so little.
Only your soul.
Time has not watered down the taste
Of your vintage Truth,
Only aged it
To bittersweet perfection.
But I was the vintage one;
Waiting for the song,
Drinking every word.
The pureness of my heart's wild thirst
Opened the bottle -
And with that first, timeless sip,
I am forever drunk.
Muffled through an iced window,
Rusting groans from the church's tower
Down the road
Silenced my sleeper's rhythmic song;
Woke the dogs to barking
Near and far away in my imagination
In my winter's wishing.
They wrestled down the old bell
A tiny forever ago.
The sleeper's breath had stopped by then,
And the snow-bound chill on bared soles
Is kinder than other winters.
(c)LA Moss 1995-2000