1. |
Your Toenail (a Spell)
03:24
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A spell to draw you near,
etched into hardwood floors
with a silver knife,
a five-pointed star,
a circle drawn around.
Your toenail clippings, a feather
a puddle, a candle,
a clump of dirt
a feather, a puddle.
Flight, and floating, and
flame, and forest,
your toenail,
a spell.
The stars listen, silent.
Pick up the blade and kiss it.
Pierce the palm, and then
let it leak (again).
As above, so below.
Your toenail clippings, a feather
a puddle, a candle,
a clump of dirt
a feather, a puddle.
[INTERLUDE]
Your toenail clippings, a feather
a puddle, a candle,
a clump of dirt
a feather, a puddle.
Flight, and floating, and
flame, and forest,
your toenail,
a spell.
A moat of blood, a pentacle
flooded (scratched into the floor).
The stars whisper
(once more), the door
creaks, opens, shuts.
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2. |
Crawl Inside the Yam
02:17
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Fuzzy bug and humble,
you’ll fall into place,
cheek bone
against shoulder blade
I am the elephant yam
flower tossing
the stench
of rotting flesh,
my aura, my perfume
[INTERLUDE]
Crawl inside the witch of the forest
and climb,
futile,
her waxy walls.
You’ll emerge the very next night
covered in pollen
then seek
the sweet
scent of her dead skin.
Crawl inside the yam.
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3. |
Silver If He's Free
03:00
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At dusk, I dreamed I caught the silver
carp,
and then I set him free.
The hazy sun pierced through
the dying trees
and on the Schuylkill’s shore.
I stood there on the bow and
waved to you;
you wore a white fur—
a dewy white fur coat.
Sundown the moon
glows dusty gold!
Midnight the moon
shines ashy white!
The bow pushed through a field
of jellyfish
as big as dancing lions.
The carp, on full moons, sheds his
silver scales
like floating treasure coins.
We traced their trail right to the
silver carp,
and then we caught him,
and then we pulled him up.
Sundown the moon
glows dusty gold!
Midnight the moon
shines ashy white!
We filled a bathtub with the sea
so that our treasure fish could breathe.
The silver carp looked up at me,
said he’s only silver if he’s free.
We heaved the carp over the
starboard side
but kept a scale for luck.
At dusk I dreamed I caught the
silver carp
and brought him back to you,
but you, yourself, are much too
far away:
a silver, slender—
an almost-captured dream.
Sundown the moon
glows dusty gold!
Midnight the moon
shines ashy white!
Sundown the moon
glows dusty gold!
Midnight the moon
shines ashy white!
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4. |
Fairy Queen
04:10
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I saw Fairy while I drove last Sunday night:
through the trees, a faint white glow,
white glow that beckoned even as it wavered,
the fae queen flashing favor.
Far beyond my red light, past Harford road
and blocks of boarded homes, she called.
She, called the May fair queen (it seems), invited.
Dry leaves in me ignited.
Like the phantom bells of Ys that toll
from spires that have long sunken,
what is fallow, Faerie Queen, make whole,
frozen as I sit here at this junction—
My chest screamed at me, “Goddammit
(drive forth),
lightly so as not to rouse the
(engine),
like a boat without a paddle.”
This was not the first time she’d called to me.
I sat indecisive again.
Again, I felt swift wings beneath my rib cage
like finches on a rampage.
Yes, I felt the urge to glide straight through the veil,
thin between this world and the next,
but next I knew, I was turning left on Harford,
away from what she’d conjured.
Like the phantom bells of Ys that toll
from spires that have long sunken,
what is fallow, Faerie Queen, make whole,
frozen as I sit here at this junction—
My bones screamed at me, “Goddammit
(go back),
quickly so the May queen knows you
(mean it),”
But, then, I was sure the moment
(had passed),
Anyway, I had an early
(morning),
Won’t she call again when it’s
(convenient)?
Or will magic call again for
(no one)?
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5. |
Scrybaby
04:45
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Saltwater, smoky quartz bowl,
garnet pendulum swinging above
like a drop of blood
on a silver chain.
A message from the goddess:
your broccoli is overcooking,
its green, sunless gaze
scorching the side
of the iron pan.
Male tears plop against the sea foam
in the scrying bowl: salt against salt.
When we crossed the ocean,
I wasn’t in the water, but you were.
I hovered two feet above the waves
While your head bobbed up,
then bobbed down.
Inhale, exhale, sing:
“Your mouth is smaller
when you wear a helmet. ”
Wings beat up, beat down—
touch me, I’ll turn to wax,
hold me I’ll hurt me.
Inhale, exhale, sing:
“Your mouth is smaller
when you wear a helmet,
wear a helmet, wear a helmet. ”
I, a flying crab, was a-
fraid to breach the surface of the sea.
I, a flying crab, poured
waterfalls over your head.
Wings beat up, beat down—
touch me, I’ll turn to wax,
hold me I’ll hurt me.
Inhale, exhale, sing:
“Your mouth is smaller
when you wear a helmet.”
Wings beat up, beat down—
touch me, I’ll turn to wax,
hold me I’ll hurt me,
me I’ll hurt me,
wear a helmet, wear a helmet!
Kitchen counter, compost heap,
molehills in winter,
blackened green, melt into me,
melt into me
I’ll sink.
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6. |
Maternal Worm Instinct
03:24
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Slippy, muddy, grey-green ground, I
tied a knot around the squirm-hole;
they are not to flap away,
their bodies soft like rusty clay.
(Worm mama!)
Fortune favors squirmy tricksters;
some of us have lost our Lesters,
and our babies, and our eggies,
all my babies, all my eggies.
All but one: Julian!
All but one!
[INTERLUDE]
Other squirmers write and wriggle,
in the dusty red crepuscule
after rain, but I don’t join them—
dewy dust and grain, anoint them!
(Worm mama!)
Set my snares when the light-disk hides,
and Julian will curl like tide.
Flappers, I am waiting for you!
Villians, I am waiting for you!
I won’t lose Julian!
I won’t lose!
Plucking fur from forty peaches,
shells in pits from black-sand beaches,
keep flappers from my wriggling baby.
Squirming twice around the squirm-hole:
once for smells of monarch wings,
once for oils from rattle stings.
[INTERLUDE]
Three slinks to the pepper farm,
jalapeños under worm arms,
keep my squirmy safe from harm.
Slinking down the silk-squirm hill,
visits to the stickiest web,
rot-head from the millipede,
we’ll drink the flappers while they bleed!
Feather puddles quench our thirst, and
coiny rubbles fill our fists, and
in the moon haze under marsh brush
we both shut our seeing-globes,
dreaming already, thinking of
CrysTal Bugz!
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7. |
Summer Country
04:02
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Summer country floods with sea.
Bog and forest overflow—
Mabon’s Eve.
Through the mirror pool you see
rupture of the path you thought
was to be.
Midwinter he’ll find you,
gold snakes to remind you
the lives you lived before still bind you.
Victim of your husband’s will,
bruises coat your goosebumped arms—
Saturn’s chill.
But if your vision’s proven real
someone else is meant for you,
by Fortune’s wheel
Midwinter he’ll find you,
gold snakes to remind you,
the lives you lived before still bind you
Ancient islands sinking!
Crone of the Old Religion!
Death knell ring!
Clouds crash through the hills like waves.
Tired of awaiting fate—
Fortune’s slave.
You seek him in the spirit plane
Give your husband up to him:
Captor slain.
Midwinter you take him.
Hands trembling, you make him
sire of the once and future
king
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8. |
Baba Yaga
04:19
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The rising cloud pulls you upwards.
The orphan, drowned, pulls you backwards,
your bony legs bent, twists your footfalls,
and bleeds your words, wakes your woes,
eats your birds, and buries your toes.
Once a maiden, twice a bride,
thrice a widow, desert dried.
Like the lizard that swims in the sea,
your salty sneezes shake the trees.
The icy breeze smells like Russians;
it gives a wheeze, pulls the slush in
and whines like a wolf, sounds like nothing
you’ve ever heard, howls in waves,
sirens, curdled—it sings of your ways.
Once a grapefruit, twice the tree,
thrice a milky mystery.
Like the chimney from under the earth,
your anger is an island’s birth.
In the dripping tomb, you stir a stew
that spills in starry strands.
In the balmy room, it’s only you
and your six hands.
[INTERLUDE]
They bring you crowns, only to leave you.
The brave boys bow when they need you,
but never to stay. Still, they heed you
and feed your spells, steal your sieves,
mask your smells with lavender leaves.
Once the jury, twice the accused,
thrice the judge in scarlet hues.
Like the death plague that comes to the ball,
your dance can bring a kingdom’s fall.
In the dripping tomb, you stir a stew
that spills in starry strands.
In the balmy room, it’s only you
and your six hands.
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9. |
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Have you ever stood
in the midst
of a locust swarm?
Buzzing white wings stained
like dirty doves,
angels of appetite and plague,
jaws click-clicking for (any)
trace of remaining green
like a hungry cloud.
The penguin flails in the jaws of the seal,
violent orgy of frothing surf and sand.
More penguins watch calmly from the beach;
with mouths to feed, they turn away.
Beast to beast there is
no altruism—
humans to the earth,
teeth gnashing,
demons of
wreckage
and greed.
[Spoken]: And we, on the backs of
another species’ extinction,
and another, another, another,
drive our own selves to the same fate,
eating green pasture after green pasture,
teeth gnashing in a cloud of hunger
taking--
the whole world with us
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10. |
I Send U a Ghost
03:08
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I send you a ghost,
I send you a—
Drop of blood, splinter of bone,
patch of skin, lock of hair.
Drop of blood, splinter of bone,
patch of skin, lock of hair.
Drop of blood, splinter of bone!
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost.
Fracture of a nail, dust from a fire
that started last year but went out this year.
Fracture of a nail, dust from a fire
that started last year but went out this year.
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost.
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost.
[INTERLUDE]
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost,
I send you a ghost.
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