Faith is a fickle friend. Here are two poems, to give equal time to Doubt and Belief. They also present conflicting impressions on nudity: is it a form of vulnerability, or of freedom?
First, to express doubt, I offer a “Feathered Thing.”
And then again, there are those transcendent moments that call forth belief, and so we’ll answer that dismal “Feathered Thing,” with the upbeat, “Uplifted.”
Care to comment? I’d love to get some reactions — to the poems, to the ideas, to the debate.
Is the forest trees
or a drop of sap whose scent
brings back wilderness?
Here in honor of the expansion of my tarot reading service, is a tarot-inspired poem. Oh, that Tower. Oh, that Tiamat. What would life be without the destroyers?
I sat beneath the willows, and this is what I heard.
Willendorf came up in conversation today. I’ve moved closer to there, since I wrote this. Ciao, for now, Milo! Here’s to Goddess, whence-ever she hails, by any name you hail her.
Wherever you find your balance point, it’s the Equinox. Spring in the South and Autumn in the North, as I write this. Somewhere, anyhow, a butterfly is new-hatched.