Dear Florence,
The minutes turn to hours when I grace
The mellow’d country of my youth,
Where ruptured bicycles rest like wreaths
Under the golden brilliance of heaven.
Here, time surrenders itself upon
Her hollow’d drives,
And betwixt her swaying pines
The Dantean fables breathe unto me
A renew’d serenity.
O Florence,
Her muddied brooks enchant me of
A brandywine incense,
And ever still are her flowing valleys,
Where once I spent my summer’s end.
Dear Florence,
How the evening sun sets upon us,
To garnish the sky in marigold wreaths;
For it sprouts the mist of heavenly light,
The myth I wish to garner from thee.
O’ deathly lady, speak unto me truth,
Does beauty cower ‘neath thy sanctum of stone?
Or perhaps it hides within moss ridden yards,
And loves anew each death it’s outgrown.
O’ deathly lady, veiled under the breeze,
How I envy thine eyes lain barest at dawn;
Awaiting the sun through tender spring leaves,
And blinding thyself – awake to true beauty.
Florence Margaret Mainland
(Nov. 25, 1903-June 8, 1925)
Mound Cemetery, Racine, Wisconsin
"Heel"
Another language speaks its truth
one’s truth is another’s war
Agamemnon and his achilles
to heel a virtue
to heal a cause
such an odyssey
styx and stones
Clytemnestra, silent
spartan subdued
a loss, a child
innocence stolen, spilt
on another’s alter for Troy
a loss, a sacrifice,
unfavourable weather
a familiar familial war
gods like mortals
mortals like gods
blood, not water spilt
the Odds,
two sides of a coin
another language speaks its truth
one’s truth is another’s war
Iphigénie
spared by Racine
l'orangerie du tribunal
de Versailles,
a muse
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
“Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit.”
RACINE
(“Pursuit”/Sylvia Plath)
heel. (noun, verb, noun dated•informal slang)
heal. (verb)
which words pried the sounds
the rusted hinges of doors long ago shut
then words gave voice to
stringed and percussion suited encouragements
that gave meaning with no translation
each word he spoke to hear her repeat him
those who could answer with rangey octaves sang
the songs which words had no meaning
gave way for a man to
do his thing
Soprano(malo) SAURAS JAMAIS BAISER
BAISER LA CHATTE
L'OEIL PEUT-IL TE FAIRE
DEVENIR ENCEINTE
HOSSEN' RACINE ULISSE
baROTONE(LE fEMME) sAURAS JAMAIS BAISER
BAISER LA CHATTE
L'OEIL PEUT-IL TE FAIRE
DEVENIR ENCEINTE
HOSSEN' RACINE ULISSE
SHE ACKNOWLEDGES ME IN THE RESPECT OF LOVE
TO ESTABLISH NORMAL WAYS OF BEING
MIGHT WE DEVELOP AN IDENTITY OF OUR TOGETHERNESS
LEVERAGING A DIVERSITY OF LONELINESS
MIGHT WE COMMUNICATE SO THAT WE UNDERSTAND
EVEN THOUGH OUR WORLDS ARE DIFFERENT
TOGETHER, AS LOVERS, I'VE MADE YOU MY FRIEND
TOGETHER AS LOVERS!
By Mark Miller
I wait for her anxious glare
To give a stare,
Or acknowledgment,
That I am here or over there
Such beauty unoticed,
By people owned dreams.
Face of angel did startle the amputated heart
Racine composure set no worry
One in a billion stand of stoic rock
Of one who belongs of ancient tell
Saintly eyes give away heaven scorn hell
Of being and longing nostalgia kills the hope
Hold fast the Props contrived by antiqued coarse gone lost
Do we long for Midnight's death In our hour glass filled vain
Or search the space in spite of time absent valor
Staring into narcissists pond all are alone with echos vacant essence
Departing storm you've wreaked your wrath
As such I've seldom seen
The power of your winds and rain
Ripped through county Racine
With straight line winds, tornado too
And lightning bright as day
The savage fury of your approach
Cause trees to bend and sway
And at the peaking of your pass
My kitty was not found
For under bed he hid away
'Til your ferocity calmed down
And as I see you slip away
into the dark of night
I breathe a sigh of great relief
But know you're not contrite
Goodbye to you, departing storm
To your thunder and lightning complicity
I'd watch the radar to see you leave
But you left me without electricity
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