alphabets

the future holds no language

there is no alphabet

words slide and shuffle in ones mouth with no commom tense

there are strade nuove

to build

the circle will swell under flames

darkness is known to sleep…

Julia

Julia pearl girl

parfum Française pour moi

little girls package portato dal estero precious and hidden in a corner of my drawer

never

never

land

perfume

opposite of abstract

some

spaces where

old/skins are shed …a night that opens its doors to fantasy and

small words are symbols

that dance

down the paths past the gate

my breath so uncluttered to

touch the words stringing them like lanterns through the galaxy

asking again if through

some space cracks light nonostante pattern, rythm

clustered in the poet’s shell.

Virepoesium*

I’m resorting to magic to bring

you back. When woman poets, she

witches a witch woman rises

she rises she walzes weedy

& warty, the wily wordwife finds

herself in woodlands, beneath trees

low ceiling’d wombs while words

strum nerve’s wingy harpstrings &

she woos the word the willowy

word woos the wind to wind the word

to bind the word the wyrd warble

woos with inky wand she whirls

the worm word coaxes the word

worm offers her own pronunciation

as charm jinx banjo glithe

predefinition sounds sliver silverly

webbing woven quirk by quark

outburst by inburst colliding

words that clang or hum. Oh

graceful plasma. Oh holy

mouth. Metaphor is not

an equation, but a

transformation transmutation

roils the rowdy rose rose

rosemary rosary romances a

terrible rabble rebop

narcotic of repetition adhesive

repetition double tongued double

reveled in rarely uttered relics

rattly refrains the narrow

marrow in a sweet amen

or halleluiah! things to hoard :

chills & hair & lavender broth,

croons & smoke & snowy moths,

whistles, moonstone, nettles &

oak, patchouli & willow & heliotrope

chant a soothy antidote cool the

tongue with winkering notes. Fear

not of the aural potion or the magic

ever broken

name it spell call it spelling

morphemes shift the living, call

to the dead. I unfasten from gravity

from earth dangling like an un-ignorable

exclamation. Oh to be a lantern or an

earring. Ornery words escape my lips like

thirteen small bats flying off in

disparate directions beating sound

forward with their rubbery wings.

*(Latin) strength & poem oddly combined

by Susen James