The Muse E’ Vivatae Dóna el Riu and Her Dragon Poet ~ The Pendleton Street Studio Series

I found my muse
the Lady V
beneath an autumn-kissed
scarlet maple leaf
in the Garden of Muses and Mythical Beasts
under a pregnant moon in conjunction with Jupiter

Lithe of limb
creamy of skin
with lips impossibly beautiful
and hair. . .
how am I to describe her hair. . .
Hair the color of poetry
smelling of every young man’s fantasy

Both our reflections danced across the dark waters
as we walked by the River
She laughed and pointed
and told me all the secrets behind the secrets

She taunted me
Enticing me to dance
Her eyes fiery and bright
and feral
And terrifyingly beautiful

In a twilight
that Vincent would have painted
Under gently swaying trees
filled with that Spanish moss
I asked her
“Will you abandon me
when I’m too old to sing?”
“What a silly question.
You have always been too old.”
“Then why do you bother with me?”
“Look around, where are you?”
“In the Garden . . .”
“As well you should be.
Do you think this is some kind of accident?
You are a part of this place.
Quickly now
put your nonsense away
and write down what you see.
Nothing here is eternal
especially not me.”

Maxwell the Meta-modern Metaphysician also known as the Ticket Taker at the Door of the Studio

To the studio on the second floor the Everon come
Indistinct and all but invisible they come
Multitudes

Some carried in phantom coach and some on foot
Walking across the winds above the World
Traversing the Salient Salty Seas
All coming
Coming to this place
This Museum of Light and Dark

Some stand outside the door holding their tickets
Debating merits and means
Leaving without entering

Others charge in
Treading everything

Then there are the gentle others
Lingering a moment
A day
A week
Finally with timid steps
Holding hands for comfort
Touching each other for strength and support
They pass through this Threshold

Some into the places they want to go
Others into the places they need

Day 21 ~ Sara ~ Darkness in Light

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it

And now in this silent place
The Sky is all I see
And the hiss whisper of sand dancing
All I hear

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it

I loved the way she had this sexy hiss whisper
When she said
Kisssssssss me
And kissssssssssssssing . . .
Honestly when she said September . . .
It was a prayer

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it

The Sun of this place has a bronze tang
Not unlike the shades of her arms . . . her legs
Tanned by summer
And she didn’t like to let me see her eyes
Cobalt blue . . . with twin points of light

‘Hold my hand’
Its such a simple thing to say
And I loved to hear her say it
And I want to die here
So I will no longer hear her say it in my mind

Day 17 – Personal Mythologies ~ Darkness in Light

i am slowly becoming my own Parthenon
angels and demons join in my aspect

then let us dance
while there is air in the sky

speak volumes to me
with your eyes
that i might know sustenance when you pass

let us blend our shadows
and our songs
as we forget civilization
and stroll this desert place

let us bend the sky
with the peals of our laughter
let us lift the oceans
to reveal all the treasure that is ours
let us become the eternal Now
and speak no further of grey tomorrows

Day 11 – Poetry ~ Darkness in Light

If you could have asked
Is it raining
in some future place?
Or will I suffer
the slings and arrows . . .?
And got your answer

If you could lift your hands
Against the Sea
Turning back the tide
turning back time. . .?

If you could
Spin the sky backward
rearranging the clouds
Without a second thought. . .?

If you knew a guy
Who could remove this tattoo
Wipe away this memory
Would you?

Day 18 ~ Lucent, My Own Personal Demon

kind numb now
its been . . . weeks?

isn’t it funny how things just . . . fall away
just . . . fall

dreams and reality converge
when you cook your brain

better than drugs
but i feel so . . . so bad

walk
put one foot in front of the other
lift drop

a shadow detaches itself
come to stare me in the face

rescue?

this demon says
‘you’re a scurvy clot . . .’
nope
that is not the sound of rescue

he says
‘what are you doing out in this heat?’
‘i’m on a journey . . . a quest of sorts’
(all of the sudden i feel so lower case. . . )

he says
‘what the bloddy hell?’
i’ figured
it worked for the French Foreign Legion . . .
i want to forget . . .’

‘how come you aren’t dead?’
‘there is a microfine mesh on my skin
a type of johnsonian junction strand thingy
as long as electrical current runs through it
it cools my skin . . .
the technology was prototyped on beer coolers’

‘but at night it gets bloddy frigid out here’
‘the current reverses
and it heats’

‘but your skin . . .’
‘SPF 437’

‘water?’
‘water condenses from my breath
and my sweat on the mesh
and some from the air
and some in my gear’

i say
‘i carry some food
the rest falls from the sky
at Manna Stations along the way’
he says
‘neat’

i say
‘what is your name demon?’
‘me . . .?
i’m Lucent’

‘not Lucifer?’
‘oh heavens no
i’m only a minor demon’

‘why not Lucifer?’
‘You hardly rate Him old son
seeing how you are nobody important
nope
just me . . .’

walk
put one foot in front of the other
lift drop

he says
‘so if that battery thing . . . breaks?’
‘in that event . . . i’m everso screwed’

the studio

art
sheets of paper
floating in a dark place
(dark to help you focus on the art
not the walls)

art
floating midair
two dimensional plane
sharp edged
black ink in off-white surfaces
symphonies of light and darkness
landscapes of element and contour
presented for you consideration
all of the world falling away
so that nothing is left to see

but the art