Up Out of Existence

Once, often there are more
like bulls and flies and secrets
judged to be dangerous or
lethal, but certainly different.  

For the first time absolutely
captured, hindered like a lid
or sealed door, forced to listen
to its own voice and hers.

Often, rarely they are distant
earth and rock, dust and root
form a type of self-destructive
womb, gives birth to something

emptied.  Something to be




Built of silence, walls;
I can no longer keep you. 

Here are the keys to
your chamber; rules

that held you from
their reach.  Now

you have permission
to destroy them

the way a dream eats
its sleeper, a ruined city

crumbles to fine
particles of dust.

Show them
no mercy.


The Cold Daughter

They should have come,
all the signs were there:

snow, claw marks,
a blue sun.  Instead

someone brought
an ice pick & shovel.

The task became
to keep the heart

from freezing

when it realized,
without a compass,

winter would be
a lifetime.

Who can tolerate
a cold, blue daughter?


This darkness,
ugly shadow, 
addicted angry;

what I've created
follows me


I belong to it

Some creatures
that should kill
their Makers


Some turn against
themselves like

the last cannibal
at a party-

not quite white
but cyanotic,

not quite haunted
but even stranger.



There comes a time,
despite our unwillingness
to believe it, when blood

loses its value.

When strings tacked
tightly to the control bar
snap, recoil and down

falls the marionette

in a soul-less heap
like a boneless creature
or discarded skin.

The mind remembers
some things for some
time, how things

were whole

but the spirit, always
blind in this world
rushes formless

into another.