Read time: 1 min.
OSCILLATIONS
Writhing, howling succubus trapped in man flesh,
paint your icon over your hell, my dull face.
Such euphoric portraits negate despair's brawn.
Choke us in rapture.
Let your angel watch as we dance around threats.
When her feather brushes your shrouded horn tip,
frantic, fevered arias press our rash needs
over my cautions.
You can love her, knowing she'll quit this town soon.
Any rising streams can recede before waves
drop electric eels in our rusty nail bed.
Dullness prevails, then.
LA PAPESSE
Benedictine habit with shaved bald head,
growing chest concealed, she maintains her true self
inside, where she’s safe from the stones the monks throw,
living though covered.
Silk beneath the hairshirt, with nails in “spilled” paint.
Quiet outward sacraments. Some are more loud.
Intuition, knowledge, and grace, no clothes hide.
Gentleness shimmers.
Masking’s not regression; performing takes skill.
When the curtain closes, her dance becomes free.
Steps unforced and natural mean so much more.
Freedom is progress.
CRAFTING IDENTITY
Needle piercing fabric along my chalk marks.
Twisting silver wire on curated stone charms.
Vodka plus assorted essential oil drops.
Fashion’s a collage.
Crayons, paint, and powder, my face the blank page.
Wrinkles framing eyes for a stencil, deep dark
liner lines take shape with an easy glide.
Lipstick’s calligraphic.
Verses ground the dream in reflection’s clear gaze.
Formal structure keeps you from rushing past thought.
Choosing words like earrings reveals your true view.
Journals clothe spirits.
Semi-Random Reflections 
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