iuliaflame

The word, self-assured, resonates, rising From bleak abyss to bright horizon. Whether in wistful, whispered tapestries Or curt quips, coined to combat travesty, The word inhabits ev'ry time and place, Awaits form's firm embrace, and then escapes In a breath propeled by evil or good, Singing of pain or hope, colored by mood. Words warm us, warn us, ridicule, cajole, Words divide us, unite us, console. They are the sign of civilization, Currency of each and every nation. How should we hear of another's hunger? How could we name the hurricane's anger? Words speak of silence ever unspoken. Words are promises, some may be broken. W

The professor didn't make it to the class reunion. "Bouncy,        Bouncy," Sings his great-grandbaby, swinging a souvenir of the Class of 1939. His is a further destination. Grandpa used to think in matrices, Pages of complex equations, Hyperbolic parabolas Financially feasible incantations. Now his fragile bird-hand is poised, While he solves the problem of navigation Between the chair and the bed, His cloudless cerulean eyes            search the skies. His calculations and planning have paid off. He is surrounded by fascinated disciples, Who search for the meaning in his movements, His family savoring every moment. He

I'm no better, just another                  Patchword paeon thatched together Soul to sole in fractious factions                  Bent on conflict and dissension. Meet my Brain, Dame Democracy                  Rationing Heart's Theocracy; My Right wing sings of liberty,                 My Left wing swings in charity. Throat's is a Centrist neutrality;                 Stomach holds a Pizza Party. Progressive Intestines lobby                 For the Kidneys' plurality. Hip's authoritarian stance                 Predicts Leg's Republican pants, While Foot networks with the Grassroots,                 And Toes are Green Pa

Lethargy lingers on the edge of a moment, Runs in rivulets down, down, down ... There I am at the bottom of the well, Two years old and I hear the words, I see the faces, I have tasted the bitter knowing that I am stuck there alone in the depths of myself. Three and four, (the flavors of my mother's bohemian friends linger in my mouth; one plays "doctor"; when later I learn his intent, that is when my true torment begins.) Secrets. Fright. Hallucinations. Shame. Panic attacks. Obsessions. Chronic pain. I must either have a book in my hands or a child, when in a crowd. I must run behind a bush if someone is driving do

Un-Love is a place worse than death. It is the place where the Puppet Master says, Dance, And you dance, dance, dance Alone in a trance. If you ask the Puppet Master, Why? He lifts one eyebrow. He's already explained to you how you are unworthy of his presence. How dare you even open your mouth? When you cry, the silent tears dropping onto the snow Are red, the color of Persephone's pomegranate. How do you defeat the Puppet Master? You hold up a mirror to his face. When he sees the strings on his sleeves, The Puppeteer behind him, The strings on him, and so on ad infinitum, The spell is broken and you are free. A warning: Do

*                Raven says, I can't            Raven hops and skips,             Fly while Salmon Man                       Among packages:       Empty-eyed, slack-jawed,                 Crackers, oysters, clams, Woos the fishing rod.                                      He grows fat from Spam. Flashing silver lures:                                        Black Bear smells the fun.      Miller, Pabst and Coors,                      Twigs announce the bruin,             Bait the fated hook                  First they kneel, then crack                  For the sad Chinook.        In the Monarch's tracks.                              

Closed lids under closed lid, Alabaster under wood, Molten rock become frigid, Silence enforced for good-- Saying farewell is never On our list of favorite things; There just isn't a clever Way to say it, way to bring To a close a life once lived. Euphemisms won't suffice For the heart of the bereaved Nor the thought of sacrifice Assuage them in their grief. I close my eyes and appeal Help me in my unbelief To any powers that might be real: Let us stop please, Storm no desert sands, Let us create peace, Not a Promised Land.

When air scented with the breath of pineapple groves Lingers near the limbs of an icy Sitka rose, See the thorn-tree shuddering, hear Frost crack his whip. Spare, somber seneschal, a pair of Rosa's hips! Agate-eyed ice diadems in crystals crackle, Frosty fraternities in formations fractal. Sleep, Rosamunda, snow showers you with kisses, Heed not the zephyr--sweet the wind's cold hisses.

The pitter patter of repetition Erodes his smiling, stony facade. Mt. Rushmore no more, He no longer cries Like the lonely loon at the lake. In fragments of moments Minute upon minute Gathering the crumbs of his attention, We have created a verbal mosaic; My changeling child is Changing, emerging. He stretches his cygnet wings He flutters On the breath of many voices. When he sees his swan reflection-- It will be in a moving mural Marked by many hands.

Who will wake her from her waiting? Lady sleeping near the waters-- (Let peeping Pipers drone, voyeurs;)  * Hush. She rests and dreams of dancing Seven scented veils of longing: Whose fiery breath but sun's could melt the snow, soft crystals' leaden weight? Jealous zephyr shakes with desire, craving her streams of trickling tears; Springs the earth awake and kisses All her curves with leafy dresses; Flowers covet ev'ry crevice, From her ankles to her bodice; Feathered ferns and mosses, pungent, Wrap her feet in eager fragrance; She yields, to slake a lover's thirst Blueberries, toothsome, honeyed bursts; Who can know whic

I walk with my head down, not because I am ashamed, but because my feet can't find their way. It has never been easy. The ground is uneven and changes when you least expect it. I watch carefully, trying to see where my pitfalls will lie. One step. How does everyone else balance so easily on their feet? They walk with confidence, that they will never stumble. When they do, it is a far worse thing, for they do not expect it. I know that the stumbles and falls will come. They are part of life and part of living. So I watch for them, with keen eyes. I take care with my steps. I place my feet with intention and thought. Then, when my ankles twist