How careful you move
Your pieces across the board
And around the room
Such a masterful mind
If you'd ever apply it
Beyond your private castles
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
Heavy Heart
He threw down his stone-tipped spear
And cried out to the noon-sun
"I shall hurt no creature"
And he threw away his carving knife
of chipped obsidian
"I shall live clean, beholden to no suffering
No cow shall lose milk
Nor bee lose a drop of honey
I will no longer break my hunger
Across the backs of innocent beasts!
Though my children wither and starve
I sleep with a happy heart!"
And cried out to the noon-sun
"I shall hurt no creature"
And he threw away his carving knife
of chipped obsidian
"I shall live clean, beholden to no suffering
No cow shall lose milk
Nor bee lose a drop of honey
I will no longer break my hunger
Across the backs of innocent beasts!
Though my children wither and starve
I sleep with a happy heart!"
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Where the Heart is
The police march in
And lift me from the floor
"You are drunk, sir,"
"Perhaps," I laugh
"Go home, sir,"
Again I laugh
"Where and where, sir?"
They frown and throw me
Face first into the street
and repeat
"Go home, sir,"
"The earth, it sings,"
I explain
"And the the drink holds me close
So where can home be?"
But they do not listen
And have moved along to the next bar
And all their people on the floor.
And lift me from the floor
"You are drunk, sir,"
"Perhaps," I laugh
"Go home, sir,"
Again I laugh
"Where and where, sir?"
They frown and throw me
Face first into the street
and repeat
"Go home, sir,"
"The earth, it sings,"
I explain
"And the the drink holds me close
So where can home be?"
But they do not listen
And have moved along to the next bar
And all their people on the floor.
Monday, May 10, 2010
Bride of the Sky, Part Three
And so the Spirit that is the sky walked in flesh through the gates of his palace and into his great hall. All his wives stood in a gracious line to receive him with fond blessings. He looked upon their lumpy bodies and greasy hair. He saw them dribble and drool. Each wife smelled of dung.
"Ugh," said the great spirit.
Further down the line one of the wives had blown her nose so that the mucus now hung from her nose and stuck to her lips.
"Oh, gross," said the great spirit.
Finally, he walked to the last of the line and set his eyes upon Mela. He spied her ratty wig and her sack-cloth dress. He sighed, shook his head, and walked past.
The spirit walked to the last room at the end of the hall, the forbidden room, and shut himself inside. As the door closed, the wives cheered and hugged each other, cackling in triumph. Still clad in hideous disguises, they shuffled back to their various tasks around the palace.
Distraught, Mela hurried to one wife and asked, "Why do we paint such foulness on our bodies?"
"Hush girl," the woman looked angry, "to do otherwise is to invite death,"
Mela gasped. Her hands hid her face in fear.
"Our great husband would take the fairest of us for slaughter," the woman's words twisted with a sneer, "Such is his bountiful love that he would burn us in a horrible way if we appealed to him with beauty,"
"I had no idea,"
"You have only been here a short while. We all have a good life here. In the fullness of time, you will come to see our wisdom. Hide your beauty and stay away from that forbidden room. You will live happy," the wife nodded and returned to her fond diversions.
Yet Mela was troubled indeed. Her thoughts fell on the look of her husband as he paced the hall. His sky blue skin and his cloud white eyes. What strange wants could muddle his mind that he would burn the beauty from women?
And so Mela approached the forbidden door. The latch lifted easily and swung open. The inside was dark, save for a yellow glow that cast strange shadows on the ceiling. The room was completely bare save for a large, magical table in the center of the room, the source of the light. The Spirit that is the sky laid in the corner, curled up, shielding his eyes from the shadows on the ceiling.
Mela approached the table and gasped, the whole of the world laid out before her. Mountains and rivers and forests all spinning by, reflected in true detail by the magic of the glowing table. Mela stayed awhile in that quiet room, watching the world underneath. In every strange country, every foreign land or exotic kingdom, in every field or meadow, she saw the suffering. The world grew dry and hungry. Sickness and weakness reigned over the peoples of the world. They rent their garments in hopeless despair and feared the coming winter. Mela felt their terror and fled the forbidden room.
She ran out among the wives, who all clucked and tutted at Mela's fear.
"You were told to stay away and you did not listen," they said to her.
"Does that table tell the truth, do the peoples of the world suffer so?"
"What does it matter? People suffer and die everyday. Even with a full belly, they'd find something to fight over. Suffering is their business,"
Mela was shocked to hear such callous words, "We can do nothing to help them?"
"The Spirit could help them if he wanted to; he is very powerful. He does nothing but sit and mope. If he will not help, what can we do?"
"We could go and beg him to bring rain to the people," Mela implored, wringing her hands.
"Beg him? All he wants to do is kill us. And what do we care for those people below? The moment they start to worry about anything, they pick a woman and sacrifice her. They don't care if we live or die, they only think of themselves. You were sent away too, were you not?"
Mela nodded.
"And so you should join us happily. As your unforgiving family has graciously removed you from their bosom, so now you can forget all their troubles and enjoy yourself this wonderous, new life,"
Pleased with their words, the wives all returned to their songs, and foods, and exotic delights. Mela, though, still felt a great trouble in her mind. The faces of her tribe, the worry of her family, the wilting crops.
Mela walked to a great, splashing fountain and with its waters, washed the mud from her face. The wives gasped and rushed to her, begging her not to continue. Mela pulled the wig from her head and the sack-cloth from her body. With scented oils, she annointed her skin. She combed the tangles from her hair and tied red blossoms to her braids. She found bright, rich silks to wrap her body. She ignored the frantic pleading of the women and walked to the last door in the hall.
She knocked and called out, "My husband, come and look upon your wife,"
The spirit opened the door and beheld her fairness with joy. His hands touched her face. He delighted in her fair scent and the color of her clothes. His white eyes shone with a bright light and all the other wives fled and crouched in fear.
"You are filled with joy and love," his words rumbled like thunder, "and it pleases me to see your fine smile. I wish to grant you a gift, that you have brought me such pleasure,"
"My lord and love, the people of the world suffer greatly. I would see them well again,"
He simply smiled and drew her closer. His lips touched hers and he breathed light into her body that she felt a warmth growing within. He held her close in an embrace as the heat grew to a terrible fire. She could feel it burning away like a bright sun inside her belly. She knew fear for a moment, but he held her and looked into her eyes and was a great comfort. She could feel the fire consuming her, though she did not blacken or melt. This fire consumed her and she became the fire itself. It was not a burning of flesh, but of the soul. And soon her body could not contain it.
Her flesh rent apart and scattered across the hall. The wives shrieked and wailed in fear. The Spirit returned to his forbidden room.
But the fire of Mela swelled and spread out. The world fell before her like she saw on the glowing table. With new eyes, she could see each child in every field, each mother caring for their family, each father toiling for love. She saw the suffering of the whole of the world and also their joy. The sight of it drove her to such fits of emotion that she cried great tears. The world was filled with her love and the rain fell.
The world grew green again.
"Ugh," said the great spirit.
Further down the line one of the wives had blown her nose so that the mucus now hung from her nose and stuck to her lips.
"Oh, gross," said the great spirit.
Finally, he walked to the last of the line and set his eyes upon Mela. He spied her ratty wig and her sack-cloth dress. He sighed, shook his head, and walked past.
The spirit walked to the last room at the end of the hall, the forbidden room, and shut himself inside. As the door closed, the wives cheered and hugged each other, cackling in triumph. Still clad in hideous disguises, they shuffled back to their various tasks around the palace.
Distraught, Mela hurried to one wife and asked, "Why do we paint such foulness on our bodies?"
"Hush girl," the woman looked angry, "to do otherwise is to invite death,"
Mela gasped. Her hands hid her face in fear.
"Our great husband would take the fairest of us for slaughter," the woman's words twisted with a sneer, "Such is his bountiful love that he would burn us in a horrible way if we appealed to him with beauty,"
"I had no idea,"
"You have only been here a short while. We all have a good life here. In the fullness of time, you will come to see our wisdom. Hide your beauty and stay away from that forbidden room. You will live happy," the wife nodded and returned to her fond diversions.
Yet Mela was troubled indeed. Her thoughts fell on the look of her husband as he paced the hall. His sky blue skin and his cloud white eyes. What strange wants could muddle his mind that he would burn the beauty from women?
And so Mela approached the forbidden door. The latch lifted easily and swung open. The inside was dark, save for a yellow glow that cast strange shadows on the ceiling. The room was completely bare save for a large, magical table in the center of the room, the source of the light. The Spirit that is the sky laid in the corner, curled up, shielding his eyes from the shadows on the ceiling.
Mela approached the table and gasped, the whole of the world laid out before her. Mountains and rivers and forests all spinning by, reflected in true detail by the magic of the glowing table. Mela stayed awhile in that quiet room, watching the world underneath. In every strange country, every foreign land or exotic kingdom, in every field or meadow, she saw the suffering. The world grew dry and hungry. Sickness and weakness reigned over the peoples of the world. They rent their garments in hopeless despair and feared the coming winter. Mela felt their terror and fled the forbidden room.
She ran out among the wives, who all clucked and tutted at Mela's fear.
"You were told to stay away and you did not listen," they said to her.
"Does that table tell the truth, do the peoples of the world suffer so?"
"What does it matter? People suffer and die everyday. Even with a full belly, they'd find something to fight over. Suffering is their business,"
Mela was shocked to hear such callous words, "We can do nothing to help them?"
"The Spirit could help them if he wanted to; he is very powerful. He does nothing but sit and mope. If he will not help, what can we do?"
"We could go and beg him to bring rain to the people," Mela implored, wringing her hands.
"Beg him? All he wants to do is kill us. And what do we care for those people below? The moment they start to worry about anything, they pick a woman and sacrifice her. They don't care if we live or die, they only think of themselves. You were sent away too, were you not?"
Mela nodded.
"And so you should join us happily. As your unforgiving family has graciously removed you from their bosom, so now you can forget all their troubles and enjoy yourself this wonderous, new life,"
Pleased with their words, the wives all returned to their songs, and foods, and exotic delights. Mela, though, still felt a great trouble in her mind. The faces of her tribe, the worry of her family, the wilting crops.
Mela walked to a great, splashing fountain and with its waters, washed the mud from her face. The wives gasped and rushed to her, begging her not to continue. Mela pulled the wig from her head and the sack-cloth from her body. With scented oils, she annointed her skin. She combed the tangles from her hair and tied red blossoms to her braids. She found bright, rich silks to wrap her body. She ignored the frantic pleading of the women and walked to the last door in the hall.
She knocked and called out, "My husband, come and look upon your wife,"
The spirit opened the door and beheld her fairness with joy. His hands touched her face. He delighted in her fair scent and the color of her clothes. His white eyes shone with a bright light and all the other wives fled and crouched in fear.
"You are filled with joy and love," his words rumbled like thunder, "and it pleases me to see your fine smile. I wish to grant you a gift, that you have brought me such pleasure,"
"My lord and love, the people of the world suffer greatly. I would see them well again,"
He simply smiled and drew her closer. His lips touched hers and he breathed light into her body that she felt a warmth growing within. He held her close in an embrace as the heat grew to a terrible fire. She could feel it burning away like a bright sun inside her belly. She knew fear for a moment, but he held her and looked into her eyes and was a great comfort. She could feel the fire consuming her, though she did not blacken or melt. This fire consumed her and she became the fire itself. It was not a burning of flesh, but of the soul. And soon her body could not contain it.
Her flesh rent apart and scattered across the hall. The wives shrieked and wailed in fear. The Spirit returned to his forbidden room.
But the fire of Mela swelled and spread out. The world fell before her like she saw on the glowing table. With new eyes, she could see each child in every field, each mother caring for their family, each father toiling for love. She saw the suffering of the whole of the world and also their joy. The sight of it drove her to such fits of emotion that she cried great tears. The world was filled with her love and the rain fell.
The world grew green again.
Friday, May 7, 2010
Bride of the Sky, Part Two
Mela slept for a long time, and in the sleeping she dreamed of wild things and leaping creatures. She dreamed of a dancing flame who taunted and circled her. The dream seemed as real as waking life. When the flame landed again before her, she asked, "Are you my husband?"
The flame laughed and she awoke.
She lifted her head from her arms and found that she was laying on the floor before a majestic palace. Great golden doors open before a grand walkway lined with columns. Opulence and richness were in abundance. Mela stood and walked inside.
Women played and sang where ever she walked. Some were painting in a garden. Some tended a nursery full of playful, winged kittens. One sat by the fountain, knitting jets of colored water into a magical gown. The women saw Mela and welcomed her. They offered exotic foods and clothes. They promised to teach any of their mysterious crafts and the ways of their magic. They showed her to an elegant and comfortable bedroom.
"Welcome my girl, as you are now our sister, a bride to the Spirit of the Sky like all of us," they said.
"You are all wedded to the Spirit as well?" Mela asked.
"Indeed, he is loving and generous,"
"And what is expected of me? What are my duties?"
At this the other women looked uneasy and wrung their hands against their dresses.
Mela grew concerned and asked again, "With all these wonderous gifts, what does the Spirit ask in return?"
"In time, you will see. Just listen and do as we do and no harm will befall you,"
Mela felt a shiver of fear, "Harm? What cause of harm is here?"
They only smiled and returned to their fond diversions. The day passed pleasantly. Mela wandered from room to room in the palace, meeting all of the other women in turn and delighting in their work. She sampled fruits grown around the world and delicacies from ancient and mysterious kingdoms. By the end of the day she had been to every room save for one.
A pair of double doors stood closed at the end of the main hall. They were small and rather plain in design. Compared to the decorations of the rest of the palace, the doors were very easy to walk right by. Mela explored very carefully and herself amost missed them. She touched the handle and moved to open, but one of the wives struck her hand against the door, pressing it closed.
"We do not disturb this room, dear," she explained.
"Oh, am I not allowed?" Mela asked.
"This room is not for us. We leave this room alone," the wife explained carefully.
Mela sighed and turned away, returning again to play with the kittens. The other women doted and fussed upon her. They exhausted the afternoon in such a manner, with idle play and fanciful chatter. Night settled quickly on the palace. The wives gave light to lanterns of colored glass along the hall. They prepared the evening feast and laughed along to silly poetry. They enjoyed roast duck and vegetables seasoned with a strange, fiery pepper.
One wife, standing by the window cried out, "Sisters, he comes!"
Up from the table leapt the women, scattering the food and plates in their hurry. Mela sat alone, watching in confusion as the other wives ran about. They smeared lumps of wax to their face with clots of makeup. They pushed pillows under their skirts to form unflattering bulges. They hunched and drooled and spat upon themselves. Soon, the whole lot of beautiful wives had transformed themselves into awkward, ugly hags.
"Oh, I almost forgot about you!" one woman said as she grabbed Mela by the wrist.
"I dont understand, what's going on?"
"Just be silent and wear this," The wife tucked Mela into a huge cloak of sack-cloth. With a wig and a bit of mud on her face, she was just as ugly as the others. They all lined up by the grand entrance as the wind blew the mighty doors open. An unearthly light from the sky signaled a bolt of lightning that struck the flagstones of the front walk. A tall and majestic figure of a man strode from the scorch of sky-fire. He wore elegant, red-runed robes and had skin like the sky on a clear blue day, his eyes white as clouds. He smiled and strode into his palace.
"Is that..." the question hung on Mela's lips.
"Yes, dear, that's our husband,"
The flame laughed and she awoke.
She lifted her head from her arms and found that she was laying on the floor before a majestic palace. Great golden doors open before a grand walkway lined with columns. Opulence and richness were in abundance. Mela stood and walked inside.
Women played and sang where ever she walked. Some were painting in a garden. Some tended a nursery full of playful, winged kittens. One sat by the fountain, knitting jets of colored water into a magical gown. The women saw Mela and welcomed her. They offered exotic foods and clothes. They promised to teach any of their mysterious crafts and the ways of their magic. They showed her to an elegant and comfortable bedroom.
"Welcome my girl, as you are now our sister, a bride to the Spirit of the Sky like all of us," they said.
"You are all wedded to the Spirit as well?" Mela asked.
"Indeed, he is loving and generous,"
"And what is expected of me? What are my duties?"
At this the other women looked uneasy and wrung their hands against their dresses.
Mela grew concerned and asked again, "With all these wonderous gifts, what does the Spirit ask in return?"
"In time, you will see. Just listen and do as we do and no harm will befall you,"
Mela felt a shiver of fear, "Harm? What cause of harm is here?"
They only smiled and returned to their fond diversions. The day passed pleasantly. Mela wandered from room to room in the palace, meeting all of the other women in turn and delighting in their work. She sampled fruits grown around the world and delicacies from ancient and mysterious kingdoms. By the end of the day she had been to every room save for one.
A pair of double doors stood closed at the end of the main hall. They were small and rather plain in design. Compared to the decorations of the rest of the palace, the doors were very easy to walk right by. Mela explored very carefully and herself amost missed them. She touched the handle and moved to open, but one of the wives struck her hand against the door, pressing it closed.
"We do not disturb this room, dear," she explained.
"Oh, am I not allowed?" Mela asked.
"This room is not for us. We leave this room alone," the wife explained carefully.
Mela sighed and turned away, returning again to play with the kittens. The other women doted and fussed upon her. They exhausted the afternoon in such a manner, with idle play and fanciful chatter. Night settled quickly on the palace. The wives gave light to lanterns of colored glass along the hall. They prepared the evening feast and laughed along to silly poetry. They enjoyed roast duck and vegetables seasoned with a strange, fiery pepper.
One wife, standing by the window cried out, "Sisters, he comes!"
Up from the table leapt the women, scattering the food and plates in their hurry. Mela sat alone, watching in confusion as the other wives ran about. They smeared lumps of wax to their face with clots of makeup. They pushed pillows under their skirts to form unflattering bulges. They hunched and drooled and spat upon themselves. Soon, the whole lot of beautiful wives had transformed themselves into awkward, ugly hags.
"Oh, I almost forgot about you!" one woman said as she grabbed Mela by the wrist.
"I dont understand, what's going on?"
"Just be silent and wear this," The wife tucked Mela into a huge cloak of sack-cloth. With a wig and a bit of mud on her face, she was just as ugly as the others. They all lined up by the grand entrance as the wind blew the mighty doors open. An unearthly light from the sky signaled a bolt of lightning that struck the flagstones of the front walk. A tall and majestic figure of a man strode from the scorch of sky-fire. He wore elegant, red-runed robes and had skin like the sky on a clear blue day, his eyes white as clouds. He smiled and strode into his palace.
"Is that..." the question hung on Mela's lips.
"Yes, dear, that's our husband,"
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