Thursday, November 2, 2017

A huge thank  you to Editor Mark Antony Rossi of Ariel Chart for publishing this poem today.

When you have a chance, check out this publication (see the url address above.)  The accompanying photos really add to the artistic feel of the site.

Ensorcelled Within the Moonlit Eyes of P’aqo


Her silly putty face worn,

The Dowager’s palm was greased
As the lightning strikes the beast.

Rivulets of blood seep from sacred dogs.


The starry-eyed loon,

The wild-eyed child

Running through the streets,

Stopping the second before those dogs pounce.


Smelling the tears, she in the childhood tent

Feels the old hocus-pocus

From outside, the hiss and blast of truth.


But the shaman has not lost his grip,

Much quieter next time,

The fight much less painful.


Just tell the truth,

Give no hypnotic promises,

No serpentine ballet

Woven between real and false.


She thinks, she feels

He promises,

I’ll create the moon tonight

He does, he does.

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