Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Friday, February 6, 2009


This, of course, is fictional. But not so. Go figure.


I met a lady in the way
Demureness and sunshine
Whose eyes played tricks
Coy in wide smile

All flutter and free
Her beam spoke meadow
Rich in colour
Here a little
There a little
Pixies danced
She feigned no notice

Her name Kilili
But only for today
For names she has plenty
And dead victims
Testify poorly

I nodded how lovely
My hand she took
And we ran
Oh God how we ran
Gamboling night into day

We ditched and dodged
And said “never!”
“Have You?”
But practice was hers
I no match to her lead

You see, warned
Was I
Tis the woman Ishtar
Of old

Beware indeed
I grew deaf and adroit
At shewing
And brushing
Hell bent for the fire

Did Solomon not know?
Did you he not warn
And yet to the fire he ran
Altar upon altar
For their pleasure of his lust

For she has one scheme
That cannot be changed
I knew it well
Death to him
And to her also

But her sister,
No less the deviant
Would unbar and release
Again as always
While history watched
And rubbed it’s chin

Tammuz, Tammuz
Did he know?
Did he run?
Was it of use
They weep for him
Yet today

We sit by the fear
And call it a fire
And stare at it’s coal
What the attraction?
The mystery of the flames dance

Have I warmed you?
Of course
Draw closer
I am your desire
Your need
Then in the flame you are
And she looking in

That smile
Watching you dance
To go to her now
You must come out
But nay
The rabbit is snared
Soon she must go
To find another
The herd to be thinned

Her sister
has you now
Stripes without pleasure
Bonds without tease
No measure to the stroke

To do it again
Would you?
What power of reflection
Could change what is

What is today
Is of old
For practice

Makes perfect
And fire