I stop; look back.
Hand over my eyes to block the
manic light,
and I see
salt pillars.

They glower, vaguely
outlined with my own face.
I’ve peeled their chalky skins for years.

And I try
not to catch their eyes –
Midas, Medusa,
basilisk, Balor.

It’s a fix.
I’m ripped off and stacked up and left out here.
A new me moves forward,
and I’m frozen in the reflection.

What will she be

after the last peel;
just salt?

eight earths

I wish you could watch me shuffle,

as I scream at my cards,

“Tell me the fuck about _____”

And they do,

child of wonder.

They tell me we can

fly to the resplendent sun,

who will assure us

we are just

like it.

That we will wage

against life

and never lose,

not once!

That we will ignore

our present,

that no rules apply;

eight earths can’t

stop us,

even if they try!

And the world,


it’s ours!

They said so,

believe my prophecies

and allurements.

The psychotic, gentle world,

it was made for us;

for our truth to become



First, I was on the litter,
as rustics carried me ever closer to you;
those demonic angel masks,
bellowing eyebrows,
and flowing fingers.
They danced, and all I saw was color,
color to the beat of the drums,
against the beads of your constellation.
I saw you, Taurus, dios, flood,
and they brought me ever closer
to your sinister stampede
atop the mountains.
Now, they are tying my hands
with rough hemp and
loosening my hair which
snaps in the wind,
a forest of morse code.
The virgins remove my
white, ashy, gauze
robe so you may
see my silhouette
against the moon.
Their throats are slit and
their blood mingles with the platters
of grain and berries;
those rich red berries saturated in
delicious holy blood.
The drums stop for the wind,
and all I see are frightened faces
melting into one another;
cowards! They run, fast,
back down the mountain,
and leave me here to wait for you.
I watch the wind call your name,
I am as tall as all your trees,
I am dark and powerful,
I am writhing on this splintered pile,
I can hear you coming.
Do you know why they sacrifice
Because I could
destroy you.
And there you are, galloping wildly
through your spring streams;
your face is life itself,
your hair is scorpions,
your blessed hands untie me and
I don’t care where we are going
or what you will do to me,
just do it, do it, go, faster
and never