Lost and Found Star-scape

Work wolds in the rhizome, even now, expand ever-outward. It's growing and multiplying with exponential connections. Hang on.

Truth

I cannot help remembering a remark of De Casseres. It was over the wine in Mouquin's. Said he: "The profoundest instinct in man is to war against the truth; that is, against the Real. He shuns facts from his infancy. His life is a perpetual evasion. Miracle, chimera and to-morrow keep him alive. He lives on fiction and myth. It is the Lie that makes him free. Animals alone are given the privilege of lifting the veil of Isis; men dare not. The animal, awake, has no fictional escape from the Real because he has no imagination. Man, awake, is compelled to seek a perpetual escape into Hope, Belief, Fable, Art, God, Socialism, Immortality, Alcohol, Love. From Medusa-Truth he makes an appeal to Maya-Lie."

—Jack London, The Mutiny of the Elsinore

Fade

Tides Turn

Moth-wing,
tender leaf,
hearts-sound-
barrier breaks,
light quakes,
dark Pacific
to high Blues
boulder to pearl
dirt to diamond
ashes to empire
it turns,
star-seeded.


k.m.

Algol, Invocation

To draw your open gaze from the zenith of the heavens, sister Gorgon, undefeated always, even in death, a weapon. Come in.

Next Week

Lucky

Maybe it was some kind of a lucky charm, or talisman to whomever had dropped it. It must be. Yes, starting today things would begin to change.

Stars, Moving

Wheeling through the galaxy
of imagined paths, lightways,
to seed new stellium.
Without end, the glisten, shimmer,
glamour, glimmer. Stars moving,
ephemera catching fire, becoming.
And now a white heat, impossible
to overcome. This is the way it
will be. Past, passes as the future
is a beacon of purest starlight.

Pa que tu me llama

Mastery Ill-used Taints Truth

Material success cannot protect us from ill fortune. The Gods can be jealous, and even the strongest fortress can fall to the ground. This is a warning against complacency and smugness. All that we achieve is as fragile as a house of cards, and may collapse at the slightest breath. Lies will out.

For You

What happens if you find yourself in a different place,
and you find that you, in this place, are a different person?
Maybe you don't even know this person you have become, but
the person you have become has been waiting right here,
in this new place, for a long, long time. Biding, abiding.

You may find yourself thinking of the moth that beats against
the pane, and of the pain of dislocation, of finding oneself
in entirely the wrong place for using ones wings for their
true purpose. You may look at yourself and wonder what became
and what will become and wing through the night sky, moon lit.

Sorcery is a strange art. It encompasses all others and surpasses
all. A poem released into the wild will work its wordspell in a wide
world of endless interconnections until, one. single. moment. when.
it finds purchase and a whole new life spins outward. Becoming
winged, wheeling moonward. A light, a light bringer. Constellation.

Night of the Nacho Knife Fight

A friend arrives late night bearing a delicious snack. Greasy chips doused in orange “cheese,” gas station nachos from down the road. (Jalapeño slices may have been present, but reports were vague on this point.) The intended recipient declines the snack, at which point his room-mate-cousin appropriates it and begins his repast. Presumably, seeing his cousin’s enjoyment of the nachos the cousin who first rejected them attempts to reclaim them. “Nacho nachos, man,” the dining cousin replies. He cites the well known legal concept of possession and it’s portion of the law. The nacholess cousin attacks, drawing his knife and the melee bursts into street.  Blows are traded and the nacho eater is cut, meanwhile the friend who brought the nachos calls police.

Trusting

Trusting ones self to speak
Trusting the words to work
Trusting thoughts to form
Trusting the world to crack
Trusting the light to spark
Trusting the spark to light
Trusting the stars to burn

Blue Marble Girl

Earth turns, and the sleepers waken to oppose the lurking vultures before they devour...

For T

One Thing, Everything, Leads to Infinity

Everything makes ripples throughout the available dimensions. Attention is essential.

Red Star, White Stone

When once a glimmer arrests the eye,
and brings a moment to a halt,
the unexpected strange luck,
worth unknown and unknowable,
firing synapses alter one rhizome,
after another.

Tarot for Today

From the Golden Tarot:


You have seen and learned much in life. As an enlightened person, you have a responsibility to put your knowledge into action. Others will seek your guidance. Live so that others will follow your example, and share the good fortune that Fate has dealt you.

Summer-- Such a Season

The coven continues to evolve as the rhizome grows. The uninitiated caught up unwittingly, deterritorialized and reterritorialized-- unsuspecting magicians. What a season this one will turn out to be in the backward glances of those new lit souls. Movement has begun. Movement shall continue apace. Evolve.

Handful of Stars

Cast to the world
to create a dynamic
constllation
of silver lights
burn bright all
who fall under the
influence of these
stars, for so the
World
is Made
Over.

Red Rose Tuesday

A Red, Red Rose O my Luve's like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie That's sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I: And I will luve thee still, my dear, Till a' the seas gang dry: Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt wi' the sun: I will luve thee still, my dear, While the sands o' life shall run. And fare thee well, my only Luve And fare thee well, a while! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' it were ten thousand mile. Robert Burns

Perfect Harmony

Snuff the fires and the liars.

Tower

From the Dark Tower We shall not always plant while others reap The golden increment of bursting fruit, Not always countenance, abject and mute, That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap; Not everlastingly while others sleep Shall we beguile their limbs with mellow flute, Not always bend to some more subtle brute; We were not made to eternally weep. The night whose sable breast relieves the stark, White stars is no less lovely being dark, And there are buds that cannot bloom at all In light, but crumple, piteous, and fall; So in the dark we hide the heart that bleeds, And wait, and tend our agonizing seeds.
Countee Cullen

33 Points of Light, Ever Expanding

The world completes a metamorphoses. A constellation, a rhizome takes root in time/space. Every point is, after all, connected to every other and every act sets off a chain, unbroken.

Piping down the valleys wild, Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child, And he laughing said to me:
``Pipe a song about a Lamb!'' So I piped with a merry chear.
``Piper, pipe that song again;'' So I piped: he wept to hear.
``Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe; Sing thy songs of happy chear:''
So I sung the same again, While he wept with joy to hear.
``Piper, sit thee down and write In a book, that all may read.''
So he vanish'd from my sight, And I pluck'd a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen, And I stain'd the water clear,
And I wrote my happy songs, Every child may joy to hear.

Incanto/Encantada

Summer Sun

Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven with repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.

Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.

The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.

Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy's inmost nook.

Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.

Robert Louis Stevenson

Desire Fullfilled

Aldebaran burns, a ruby beacon for Venus as she crosses the threshold of Gemini. Jupiter lavishes abundant favors, joyous for her presence while tripartate Rigel, pulsing blue, summons her to bestow her graces on the Witch's Head. In the lovely hours of the perfect summer, all shall be fulfilled. Spica portends all wishes to be granted, the omens are clear and the crows have said it's so. This is the time incandescent when fortune, like a moth to flame cannot resist the summoner. Coven of stone at Mono's shores give back the stars to the sky, listening and passing our entreaties heaven-ward. Earthly sky-seed but not bound, heaven opens to a witch's plaintive call, the nebula glows. Red door and finger of God, an easy path opens before us. The air is balmy and sweet and the river swift, but gentle. Gratitude remembering abundance now treasured.

The Magician

Sleep Party, Beyond the Event Horizon

Lascivious avarice unquenchable reflected in each, ravaging and writhing- love impossible now

And in this disenchantment they shall savage their very hearts- They'll claw themselves ragged in their frenzy to flee, but the trap was well laid and They've their own demon made. Karma was the one thing They couldn't believe in.

Travel is Dangerous, True

But sometimes much less so than the thing that one leaves behind. Unfamiliar roads are an ever unfolding mystery, a temptation toward the sublime and even as the stars break free as the city light that froze the night sky in sodium vapor mist, as the darkness is revealed, the place you leave becomes insubstantial.Some travel is a casual affair, and some is a last ditch escape from what could have become a sealed tomb. What awaits in a new country? What we left was unnatural and unfit for habitation by other than heathen. This new place, unknown. All signs are good.

Grazi

At This Angle in the Light of the Moon

Oblique and raking
our ghost visible
And the moon alone
shares our secret

Feel a Little Peculiar

Some links are meant to go dead in the fullness of time, 

lights to fade out at the end of a dance, the revelers moving 

in dark cars through the rain, making their way home to where 

creature comforts of worn thin chairs and the trace of cigarette

smoke that lingers is the stuff of long ingrained memory.