Short breath falls the worms arraign, flesh before a clamoring hain. Hungry ore, the mold it fills, maw surpassed, now overspills, the marble blue, to gild the dark.
by John Grey Snow falls on snow. And, in between, I trudge. Yes it’s beautiful but it chills my bones. It decorates. It beautifies. But my fingers freeze despite my gloves. I am on my way to a place that will offer me radiance and discomfort in equal abundance. The weather forecaster got… Continue reading My Forecast
by John Grey It’s blanched white tunnels that tube-worms dig, swirling around in complex patterns like the trail of a child’s finger in cake frosting. Or the emerald gleam of glowworms. Or tiny scarlet and blue-jeweled crabs. The world offers small as much as it does large. A lizard stares up at me from beneath… Continue reading The Small World
Shattered stones, the waters bound Hushed be wind, the roots unwound Ichor bled, from sea and sky From space and earth, til wet was shy On that fire, supped and filled And with the remnants, pyres trilled From the carcass, dark and glassed A fleshspun spire by hunger massed.
Sculpted stone to rend the meal It the mind to bake the wheel Culinary engines whirl and pur No captive to the hungry fur Thence to mine the tynes of night To cast the seeds up to the heights
The barren plane, hushed and vast The arrow flies and must be passed The stage of contest, endless night The dark undone in curtains flight Threads of thought, like gold out-spun Threads of thought, to braid the sun To sculpt the stars, like wetted clay To hold the seasons, one must pay Coinage flowing—slick and red… Continue reading To Sculpt The Stars
I Where sags the sun in its refrain To pour its gleam on glassy sea; Where lacteal pink in sky and deep Will merge upon the doubling main; Where plaited at the circlet fringe, Twin orbs will sear where one had sunk, A storm released one day in fury, Diffusing in its neutral hue Across… Continue reading Ysatters-Kasja