Morning breaks upon Babel, crows caw, stirring from perches,
corvid-colloquialisms, complaints, single-voiced, to-all-alerting,
this, the gaping dearth, morsels missing, hungry bird, listening
to whispering passersby, ignoring their beaky-hissing, pinching
occasional ankles or errant fingers, angrily issuing edible edicts,
to hapless builders, millers, stonemasons, and/or tired children.
The Mountain Crown
Held high-aloft,
the mountain crown,
so crystalline, so cold,
fretfully encircles
her ancient brow.
These Stars
In this earthen cave,
her mother’s womb,
she prayed for the rain
– the bringer of truth. Continue reading “These Stars”
The Source, The Spring
“Captain, my Captain,
we have reached the end.
Eon’s Black Reach…
here it begins. Continue reading “The Source, The Spring”
Your Halo, Worn Proud
Sun-singer,
sing your song
into the ether.