Wednesday, August 19, 2009

The Bite of a Klondike

A silver cloak of Arthurian legend
with the Nordic lyre of Runes...

Unwrapped in the biting
cold of a milky melt,
covered in hard, dark, shell
of chocolate...
a brittle break of ice floes
and Aristocracy, once known.

I bit in...
candlelit envy
of a partaking,
misunderstood as
sweet flowing cream
encircled the wrists.

A cow formed in the silver cloak
without a wrestle. A hedgehog
in misty melt of pagan mist...

Avalon calls in a druid dream,
fluid as juicy remembrance
biting at the bit; the bark
collapses in cream and a licking...

a paper fragment
of a dancing palate
to a clock of
sleeping babe...
a pig in nestle smiles;
sleeping sure solace
of a delectable future.

bang! crumple and kiss
in the shadow of a
flickering flame,
swanning dive
in a bracken pond...

The crickets sang for me-
those who remember
a stock in trees and
wood hugging.

I believe in miracles,
and magick...

i don't wonder why.


  1. "!crumple and kiss
    in the shadow of a
    flickering flame"

    Great lines! Sadly, I do not believe in magic/miracle. Keep writing!!!

  2. Thank you... I think your music is magick and you are a miracle, ultimately we must believe this about ourselves.