In a room without walls,
stars lie scattered across a long workbench,
each one dimmed in a different way~
some cracked at the edges,
some holding a faint pulse
like a memory trying to stay lit.
Tools hang from nothing:
a hammer made of cooled starlight,
a spool of night threaded with silence,
a brush that leaves a trail
only the dark can read.
Someone
or something shaped like someone~
leans over a fractured constellation,
turning it slowly in their hands
as though checking where the story failed.
A soft sound rises,
not quite sorrow,
more like the sigh a myth makes
when it realizes it can’t return
to the shape it once held.
Pieces of old legends
glow on the floor,
still warm from the moment
they fell out of belief.
A wing, a vow,
a name that used to matter~
all waiting to be reassembled
into whatever truth remains.
And in the far corner,
a single star brightens,
not repaired,
not restored,
just choosing to shine
despite the fracture
running through its center.
I wake in the dream of my shame,
exalted by the breadth and scope of it.
This blood on my hands, whose is it? Mine
or yours? I cannot remember…
I am more loss than I am creation.
I am rubble, standing firm. I am a fallen
castle. I deserve this guilt, but must
relinquish it.
Grief: I carry the way a girl carries a doll,
tight and snug to her chest. I undress it at night to
show it my lacerations.
Sometimes we suffer too much reality.
I yearn to know you again, I yearn to know
myself. The rain always has its lessons:
A tree grows through
a rock and chooses to be
beautiful.
I am what I am.
I am what I am.
I deemed the dark an exile from my sphere;
It only veiled the roads not meant for me.
The constellations kept their counsel clear,
Nor rendered doom till pulse matched destiny.
No heaven altered when the morning came;
I entered mine by keeping faith with flame.
night castle dreamer
traveling through time and space
a hard reentry
I fly at night, all over the cosmos, not just in our hemisphere
my husband says my soul is gone, mouth open, I look dead
there is no way to rouse me, my spirit is soaring
dreamland is graveyard city to me; I am no longer in body
my dreams are not remembered, do I have them?
there is not one sliver of a memory about them
Are they in color or black and white?
I know not, but I sometimes wake up hearing the last line of a poem.
Daydreaming is another story, I can recall each one of those.
I develop an orphanage, an animal rescue center, and a newspaper.
Two of these things might be obsolete now, but they weren’t in the sixties.
I spent most of my grade school hours daydreaming
My husband says he could never get me out if there was a fire.
If there was a flood, I might be lucky enough to float out
But until I hit my chest with a hard whomp sound, I am in dreamland
I fly at night, all over the cosmos, not just in our hemisphere.
I dreamed I am — within your Thoughts —
As Neurons — in our Brains —
Where every Whisper — folds into Silk —
And Waking — feels the same —
No Stranger — could divide the Sleep —
That binds our Breath — like Thread —
Two Lanterns — in the Dark — alight —
Each — by the Other — fed —
The World — withdrew — its iron Tongue —
And Time — forgot to Keep —
While I — became your Secret — kept —
When We — were both — Asleep —
Cyberspace, my blue astral projector
I'm not seeking new friends to entertain
I dwell in a big celestial sector
Cradled in great cool mists and northern rain.
Yet, from funny dark galaxies above
Comes bright celestial advice, kind and wise.
The Oak Grove beckons those whom nature loves
To stretch their wings where faery nature flies.
A faery soars through Cosmos, fierce and free.
No longer bound by bedridden routine.
I journeyed back through past pink memories
And glimpsed my magic future, wide and keen.
A verdant woman, celestial and high,
Candle visions that light the morning sky.
Alice Among the Astral Wonders
From a rabbit hole of wondrous delight,
Alice now ventures to the stars of the night.
Her mission's a clock, a celestial race,
To find lost minutes in time and in space.
The Cheshire Moon grins, a crescent so wide,
As meteors fall in a silvery tide.
She floats past planets of emerald and gold,
A story of space, yet untold.
But a whisper calls from a nebula's haze,
A voice that could launch a thousand space-crazed daze.
It's the Queen of Hearts, with a crown of red bright,
Who holds all the time in the infinite night.
"Off with their heads!" she screams, loud and so clear,
"Those seconds you seek are held captive right here!"
But Alice, unafraid, with her heart full of grace,
Plays a hand of galactic cards in this royal, high space.
A royal flush of nebulae, a straight of bright stars,
She wins back the time that was trapped behind bars.
And with a smile, the Queen bows to the girl,
Who won a new world from the end of the world.
I walked into the shimmering air,
Where stars are woven soft and thin,
And silence hums its secret prayer,
Where all beginnings once begin.
No weight of earth, no song of rain,
Just silver webs that never break,
A sigh that holds no grief, no pain,
With hearts that beat, but never wake.
The moon’s pale breath caressed my cheek,
As love danced with glowing grace,
In realms where souls are faint and meek,
But have no need for time or space.
The winds are songs of lives undone,
Yet never lost, just swept away—
In endless light, no need for sun,
For night and dawn are one long day.
What waits beyond the stars’ dim glow
Is neither fear, nor dark, nor flame—
Just peace, and what we’ll never know,
Yet somehow known my whispered name.
astral visitor
spies the pets first
dogs begin to growl
cat screeches and runs
sleepy sister wakes up
thinks she is dreaming
goes back to sleep
she is not ready yet
to see beyond the veil
she may never be
her sister floats away
I only met him for a while,
Still think of him with a smile,
He taught me many things,
Like New Age astral travelling,.
Maybe he does that to everyone,
I wonder where he plants his buns,
"Smile and be kind", he taught me,
Good message for today, globally!
astronomers often describe
the path of their heavenly ride
far off in the distant night sky
defining what's higher than high
luminous wavelength emitters
heavenly hosts all aglitter
lost in gravitational trance
each dancing unique cosmic dance
charted starlight guiding the way
for ships sailing from bay to bay
Polaris, bright northerly guide
let Vikings plunder far and wide
bored dreamers plotted vague outlines
of gods sending out godly signs
marching celestial civilians
filling up space in the trillions
worshiped by ancient Egyptians
forger of earthly existence
ubiquitous light in darkness
warmth amid bitter cold harshness
no need for divine directive
only eclipsed by perspective
center of systems of being
without stars life's not worth seeing
Harpies shrieked and lost souls wailed
The cold wind stung as embers sailed
A fetid stench, eyes red with dust
When I looked through to Tartarus.
Black column’s rose in demon form
terror enthralling those forlorn
Compelled I shuddered as I must
When I looked through to Tartarus.
Ten-fold my dread, to see your face
Among the shades in this cursed place
I cried your name, you didn’t hear
Glass-eyed and stricken with despair
Bleak bedlam dweller all hope hushed
When I looked through to Tartarus
As I wept, nigh tolled a bell
The Angel Keeper Uriel
Bellowed low “it must be thus”
When I looked through to Tartarus.
zooming around earth
in the middle of the night
astral travel making me faster than a speeding train
I am in awe of what I can do
while I sleep
Often, after a day of walking
in and out of my mind,
I will put on a nightcap,
it's not a substantial cap like a bobble hat
it's more a cowl, a hood, a cloud-basket.
Beneath this dark covering
thoughts lay down to rest
in early graves.
Beyond a high hedge of time
astral lights flicker.
An inner sky gleams a starry gloaming,
I grope for a rope to climb
ascend - become - appear.
Now I can travel like a spy balloon
floating remotely guided into other sleeping heads.
Now a secret I have never told myself:
A few nights only,
I enter another person’s dreaming thoughts
startling eyes that are not mine.
I can visit a strangers life,
share a nightmare
or catch a distant memory
rehearsing its pain or joy once more.
It is a trick of immortality
to be this short-lived.
This free-wheeling and head-loose.
Come the bald-faced light
the night cap spins away like a thrown frisbee,
it is only then
that I don't believe a word of myself.
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