Rejoice in Your Bicycle of Light and Shadow, I’m Getting Rum

I was asked to write a poem about space and time and a story inspired by the silhouette of an old-fashioned bicycle. So, I wrote of imaginative physics, bicycles… rum and magic.

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“You are someone else’s memories dancing in the arms of chaos,” the angel says, “time, space, colors and taste are made of flesh.” I say nothing, but senses are communal in worlds made of fear or will—I feel her feel my sister’s chant, delight in smugness made of love’s thoughts. “Impossible,” she says, when black, red and the scent of spirits unmake her reality.

She tries to speak again, but I touch a warm finger to the light and shadow of her lips, and whisper, “Shhh, my sister is witching.”

“Out of dark
shadow and light, I
conjure rum.”

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a wee note…
– Linked to Friday Fictioneers. Visit Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog, to join the writing yum. Then follow this LINK, to read what others have conjured out of shadowy bikes. And if you are feeling poetic and daring, try Physics with Björn: Space time and the special theory of relativity, over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.

photo by Jellico’s Stationhouse

Healing a Wish

I call on you, betrayer of living flesh,
cracker of bones… I name you mine,
I hammer my intent into your core.

My will—never you!—dances
in the red of my blood, throbs
in my center and in my limbs

and in the roots of all that is Me.
I’m blooming you dry, pain of mine,
making dandy fluff out of lion’s teeth,

unbinding hurts, healing a wish.

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  the (not so) wee notes…
– Over at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads, Brendan asked us to “write a short poem… binding up a spell or charm for something that plagues some aspect of daily life. Invoke a depth or shade or deity of heart and cast it over an ailing.” I, in all my teeth-baring-witchy-narcissism, invoked the hammer that is my will, and sent it like a weed (who knows her own power) to breed healing into the soil of my flesh and bones. In the spring of my charm, my pain shall be overrun by the healing bright of my dandelion wish. 😉
– I’m rather inept at the art of conventional meditation (Also, I dislike the word “conventional”, but that has little to do with this so I’ll move on). Many people, perhaps most people, visualize waterfalls, quiet meadows, sunrises… when they meditate in search for healing. That doesn’t work for me. If I’m to soothe myself—physically and/or emotionally—I must face what ails me head on and teeth bare. Some days, I dance with it… other days, we glare at each other… most days, I swallow its energy and make it mine.
– Linked to Poets United (Poetry Pantry 319).

Dandelion