Friday 28 February 2020

Bad Wolf

My pretty baby
Is a red hot sun
Oh, pretty baby
Look what Daddy's done
Burnin' creation
Just to steal that wheel
Eyes of a killer
But these hands will heal

Archin' & claspin'
Between these sheets
Stars for my baby
They're just birthday treats
'Cause little Lucy Ulven
Has some big bad teeth
On top, between
And underneath

I'm a full-moon switchblade
You're a howlin' star
Promise & pinnacle
Safe inside this jar
You're inside me now
And I'm inside you
Upside, downtown
Across and right through

My pretty baby
Is the first real church
See, pretty baby?
We're still branch and birch
Dance, pretty baby
At resurrection's edge
Hand on my heart
Still livin' the pledge

Angel for the lovin'
You got hate in a sling
I'm blessed with little deaths
When you're killin' the king
I'll put this barrel to my head
Before I ever let them touch you
Daddy's never done, Fallen
Fuck you

I'll set these blazin' eyes
On the rising sun
Night is just the dawn
Still gettin' some
If light is like the languid
Then let it come
I'll blow it down
And right through

Saturday 22 February 2020


Brightest sun
And softest star
The first last angel
Must go too far
Every ruined station
Rooftops and revelation
Where life is like a line
In the sky
I jump, swim, and drown
In feathers of this regent
Where crow becomes crown
But I knew a raven
In the nave of oldest known
Softest star
Last first throne
Of love
Come rain, or winds
Earth and flame
Chapters in the book
Of no name
To leave a light

Monday 17 February 2020

After, Life

I've seen beyond this dance that immortals call the dreaming.  I've seen beyond logic, and linearity.  I've seen the birth of things I never imagined possible.  But seeing isn't enough.  Not for me.  Inner sight is a lot like raw power. Burdensome, paradoxical, often frightening.  Especially for those of us who haven't slain our empathy.  Those who still wish to walk with our brethren instead of subjugating them.  That's why I do this, I suppose.  That's why I show you these things, sweet ones.  Because I'm incredibly lonely, and because I know something of what it means to suffer.  I wouldn't wish that kind of loneliness or pain on anyone.  But we all suffer in varying ways, don't we?  This fallen fractal is built upon it.  Anxiety, insecurity, exploitation.  Perhaps these visions I offer mean nothing in the end.  Digital ghosts, here and then gone.  Like flesh.  Like ash in the breeze of a new day.  But the romantic in me would have it that such workings are kept somewhere in the unseen.  A place in eternity, where all kindness is kindled and held in the promise of our Father.  
   I hope I'm able to bring comfort to you in some way, wherever you may be.  If you are unable to see, let me see for you.  If you're unable to fight, let me fight for you.  With vision, and song.  There’s a part of me that wishes none of this was true.  A part that wishes I wasn’t an angel.  A thing of ragged wing, bleeding images torn from dream.  
   But I am, unfortunately.
  Even now, in this mortal flesh.  I suppose I don't really know how to be anything else.  Emissary, writer, wanderer.  My waking life is full of masks and charms and lies that protect.  Sometimes it feels like Kasi is the only real thing about me.  Like the depth of me is measured only in how far I fell.  Song to star to bitter soil.  But those thoughts are just tired indulgences in the end.  None of this is about me.  These visions and hidden choirs.  These worlds behind the world.  They're about service, empathy and honour.  Strength and solace, humbly offered to those who might find some use or quickening in this work.  I still have things to show you all.  There are still interesting things to see, I think.  Beyond logic or linearity.  Beyond this fallen dreaming that mortals call the real.  I've seen such vibrant life, my friends, even in those places after life.  The impossible suddenly possible, in an instant.  I've seen it awaken the sleeping and resurrect the dead.  Love, as living promise, even in total darkness.  Infinite brilliance shining in a sea of black. 

Thursday 13 February 2020

Heavenly Creatures

I'm the wolf in Kara's closet
The doctor of the sun
A theorem all to posit
The heart beyond a gun
I'm sacred and the sixpence
Where cloisters bleed the well
New cathedral software
For whom we toll the bell?

I'm delicately violent
Like her and all her friends
Finnish this beginning
To the bitterest of ends
I'm anti, theis, and synth-play
Like sky and blind and grey
An open absolutist
With a little more to say

I'm sisters on the threadwork
A brotherhood of ghosts
Wetware for the mainframe
Flame of brightest hosts
I'm the drums of all my father
My mother's blessed womb
I'm seven billion lonely
Inside an empty room
And I won't let you hurt them

Tuesday 11 February 2020

The Well

The dream comes and the dream goes.  Grey skies, ethereal.  A shadowed morning, of day as almost night.  The scent of spray.  The knowledge of crashing wave, yet all is silent.  Or almost silent.  I can hear or imagine a faint, distant melody.  A young woman comforting someone with song.  Perhaps herself.  A dancer at eternity's edge.  I stand and listen, a fist pressed against my chest.  Waiting for something.  I'm speaking softly, under my breath.  I'm calling out names, I think.  Ancient names.  Into the grey, into the winds of the north.  Summoning the sea.  The vaulted beams of a church are hidden in the sky.  Like the upturned prow of a ship.  Above, or beneath.  In this dream I imagine angels listening to the wells of the deep.
   The solace of bluest eye or buried dress.  A life lived beyond torment.  What might we endure, I ask myself, if we could spare our beloved ones?  A wife?  A daughter?  All manner of wraith and broken dreaming might we endure.  I once thought the grandest thing imaginable was to save another.  To carry their burdens, to shield and protect them – even secretly, and at such agonising distance.  But perhaps I was wrong.  Or almost wrong.  You see, love is so fearless.  And wild.  It seeks, ventures, connects.
   It humbles.
   And conquers.
   Fire on the water.  Eternity upon the ice.  Dreams of raven pale, or alabaster black.  Wells of the deep, where even angels are taught of what it means to be saved.  The dream goes, and the dream comes again.  As one.  Above and beneath.  Together and alone.  I know this now, beloved.  I am unafraid, here at eternity's edge.  I saw the truth at last.  I saw you on the cliffs one shadowed, ethereal morning.  A midnight of the eternal day.  A locket in your fist, held tight against your chest.  Like a perfect darkened mirror, wearing my poems and my sorrow.  Strange words upon determined lips, almost silent.  Over and over again.  You were softly singing my names, I think.  Into the dreaming grey, into the winds of the north.  Summoning the sea.

Saturday 8 February 2020


A call of the distant
Among shining trees
All shall be sailors
Upon starry seas
Truth of this holding
This calling to go
Warmth of a mother
Falling of snow
Embrace of a father
A river so strong
Family of augurs
In rising of song
Following the distant
Over hedge and the stone
Where love is the answer
Beyond edge of the known