Unravelling and weaving, sometimes simultaneously

Archive for February, 2015


For the first time
while I stood in the bell tower
talking to you

someone else came in

and he didn’t notice
that I was crying

but chattered and smiled
apologizing for disturbing me
at the kneeler

I said simply
that Friday was your birthday
and he cocked his head
and said

Then it’s a good thing
I came in here to ring the bell

and he pulled the rope
until the clang resonated over our heads
and around us

three times

echoing against the bricks
and brass
clearing out everything
but the vibration of sound
that swirled around us
flying up and out the tower peak
and across the city

(c) RCGA 2015



Your profile photo
shows you
with eyebrows raised
‘The Big Book of Orgasms’

and the caption

“I won’t finish this
until you do”

There should be more humor in the world. Love and its ilk are better viewed as comedy than tragedy, no matter who doesn’t live past the curtain. Romance is insanity, the effervescence in the wine that tickles your nose and makes you belch, but has nothing to do with how drunk you get. It’s stage magic, practiced illusion. But I have woken up sticky after having been written on with ice cream toppings in my sleep, and found a photo next to my pillow of swirls and a cosmic movement of suns, stars and moons across my torso surrounding an I LOVE YOU scrawled in chocolate syrup.

Sometimes romance is all it’s cracked up to be.


It is always that way

when it is

that the time to go
turns into time to stay

if I look like forever
it is repeated reflections
of yearning
echoing into your eyes

I will tell you now
that if you stay
I may not

you may wake
some frustrated morning

with the hangover of love
and the scent of spent candles
confusing your nostrils

wondering where I am

Then again
I may stay

and then you will imagine
that always is a possibility
and I will let you
because I like the idea
of always

even when it never happens

No matter

Either way it is time
and right now
in the moment
you can decide

even if you feel
the decision is already made

Step in
or step out

the portal won’t keep open

even if you try to hover
in your indecision

I won’t be here again
if you leave
but you know that

one chance is all you get

and even that one chance
carries the risk of everything
with a single step

(c) RCGA 2015

Duchesse Brisée

She glanced at him
across the breakfast table
her jewelry casket open
before her

she sifted her fingers
through the baubles and chains
her eyes returning
over and over
to the posy wrapped in ribbons
lying to the side
so fresh
dew clung to the greenery
and slid from the cups
of the blossoms

‘Never fall in love
with a courtesan’
she protested
with a tiny
shake of her head
that made the coils of her hair
to slip over her shoulder
in a satin waterfall
guiding his gaze
to her bosom

‘Save your love
for those hearts
that are still unbroken

or barring that
those that have not been rebuilt
into strongholds
you may never breach’

she laughed
and clutched a glittering brooch
white knuckled

‘I thought I was invincible
I thought I could conquer
by the pure charisma
and passionate force
that nature granted me

and that love
was the goddess of my altar
and that I was the altar
and therefore the mirror
that reflected love
into the darkest corners…’

her dark eyes raked him
glossy and sharp
obsidian knives
rimmed in kohl

‘but I was wrong
and the mirror cracked
then shattered
leaving me cut to pieces’

She dropped the brooch
into the midst of snarled jewels
and waved her hand over them
and prestidigitation

‘I learned how to replace
each shard with a diamond
to take what was fragile
and make it so hard
that everything
everything else
would break before it did

and one day
I had nothing left
of the reflection

because the goddess
had abandoned me
to my cold facets
and calculations’

with a single fingertip
she stroked the petal
of a rose
gently tugging
pulled all the petals free
and scattered them
on the floor

‘Do not be that rose’
she murmured
‘save your love
and your sanity

bring me
practical things
things that don’t remind me
I once had
a reflection
and keep the rest

especially your heart

to yourself’

Cora Pearl

Cora Pearl

(c) RCGA 2015

Poisoned Well

She’s down at the poisoned well again

pulling up another bucket
of slick black death

It’s as if she doesn’t remember
returning again and again

yet she does
she does
feeling the sick sharp taint of danger
filling stomach and veins
hiking adrenaline
pushing every hair erect
every muscle taut
a dark admixture
of pleasure and pain
fear and arousal
lifting the spirit from the body
to some height of vertigo
there will be a long fall

that the rush will fail
that no good will come of it
in the morning light
for there are consequences
evacuating the belly
onto the ground
shivering horrible consequences
from the impact


when the twilight comes
and the moon cuts a white swath
across the poisoned well
it still calls
offering another drink

and there she bends
struggling with the rope
drawing up the pail

Old Bucket Hung Up Valerie Everitt

Old Bucket Hung Up
Valerie Everitt

(c) RCGA 2015


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