Monthly Archives: June 2018


Maisie and her love made love, in the bruised twilight, in the swelter of the fading summer day, in the gentle darkness of her room, lit only by the porcelain mermaid lamp, the hazy autumn glow.

Her old stereo still finding use, an old mix CD of shoegaze with female vocals, the humid heat and the enveloping music and the angelic singing and Maisie and her love losing each other in the others body, finding it all in loss.

After, despite the sweat and racing hearts and the thrum of their ecstatic skin, the wrap the comforter around themselves as the soft golden light soothes them to sleep, and the angelic singing makes them seers of their dreams.

Slow Unsure Beat

Maisie was the little spoon after making love, and she felt warm and content in her hazy wakefulness, nestled in the arms of her love.

As she drifted off to sleep, her heart a slow unsure beat, the stars outside the window clean and silver in the dark, she wondered how many moments like these were left.

War was coming. War was inevitable.


Maisie’s love’s breath was hot on her neck, their skin soft and warm, and the night would pass peacefully.

The demons had been beguiled for a moment, and she tried to lose herself in that rare pleasure, and have sweet dreams, allow herself to feel safe.

War was coming. War was inevitable.

One Comfort

Maisie watched the stars, laying on her worn Batman beach towel in her backyard.

They were beautiful and bright, but distant, their light cold by the time it reached Earth.

Maisie disassociated, looked down upon herself, and felt the stars pulling her up, stars as silent and disinterested as God.

All among them was emptiness and sterility, no other eyes looked up upon them.

Maisie could wander the planets and moons for eternity, and never find another heart, another soul.

And from up in the sky, she saw all the black hate and cruelty stoked for gain, for what is a tribe without an enemy?

Godliness the blackest cruelty, pretty words that amount to jack shit. There’s always an Godly reason to kill.

And all the blood spilled and to be spilled, all that is yet to come, when the universe was silent but for us.

Between heaven and earth, Maisie saw that no glory or love or dreams survives in humans’ bitter hearts.

Maisie falls back to herself, goes inside and calls her love, their soft voice and warm heart the one comfort left.

Cherished Star

Maisie and her love were riding their bikes through the Cades Cove loop road, still in the cool morning, the blue mist on the open fields and deep emerald forests.

Not a lot of cars or people yet, just Maisie and her love and the quiet, the feeling of being at the beginning of all things, the cool air and warm and tender sunlight.

They stopped to look at one of the preserved churches, watched over by a grove of oaks in full June bloom. The shade cast on warbling glass windows and stern and stiff pews.

Her love went inside to take pictures, and Maisie walked to the cemetery beside it. Grey and worn stones of people long dead, some of them lost to memory.

The Park Service tended these graves, but there were many graveyards in these mountains abandoned completely, the graves forgotten, the people forgotten, less than ghosts.

After the beginning of all things was the end of all things. Maisie knew one day she would, as would all who knew her, until her grave was untended, and she was less than a ghost.

Maisie walked back as her love came out of the church. She embraced them and kissed their cheek. The weight and warmth and touch soothed her, like the cool morning and tender sunlight.

They got back on their bikes and rode on, as cars and people started to come in, breaking the peaceful spell. The cool morning gave way to sweltering afternoon.

Maisie watched her love ride ahead, a cherished star in an impermanent life. They were together and in love now, and maybe until the end. That mattered, even as all would be lost.

Untroubled In Black

What had Ange and the owls taken? Anything they wanted, blood and eggs included.

Constance slipped into a fugue state, as the evening faded from bloodshed to warm, radiant purple velvet.

Constance saw a starchild as she floated to the ceiling but not the sky. Her starchild. One of so many.

A he, with elongated head and big black eyes that still reminded Constance of her mother and all her gifts.

The starchild, from whatever distance watched her, curious but unattached, not knowing her.

Even if he was here, he would not hold her hand, want to be cuddled, or feel safe in her warmth.

A child made from her, and those hideous Greys, not hers and would never be.

Constance was in the cold of space right in her bedroom, across time that went nowhere, could only be sorrow.

Then slept, untroubled in black, no dreams, and the stars welcomed her, for saw all the universe breaking.

The Cold Water of a Nighttime Sea

Constance rode her red Vespa through downtown, first light after a hard rain that’d lasted all night.

Everywhere was haunted by somebody, everywhere was haunted to someone. All our traumas leave their mark.

Constance saw them in the half light of this Sunday morning, the shapes and smokes of endless loops.

In life, in death, all we want is peace.


Constance parked her scooter in front of Saint James Episcopal Church, the grey stone place with the courtyard and cemetery.

She opened, making sure to be early like this, before the parishioners arrived, to once more try and comfort the ghost of the girl.

The ghost girl was there, beneath the statue of Jesus, still grey and cold, the heartbreak weighing her to earth.


Constance walked to the ghost, tried to reach her in the shadows, to find the thorn in ashes.

Constance felt the cold water of a nighttime sea, burning metal, screams, the fiance lost to war.

The heart drowned with him in the bitter North Atlantic, the loss that echoes even now.


Constance knelt at the ghost girl’s side, tried to whisper to her of the light waiting, of her love waiting.

Constance tried to bend divine light upon the ghost girl, to warm her spirit and dry her tears.

Again, as so many times before, Constance tried to loose the weight holding her here.


Afterwards, Constance left the graveyard by the little gate, feeling she was getting the ghost girl closer to peace.

A young couple were walking in, arm in arm, her head on his shoulder, happily talking to each other.

Constance watched them unseen, the brightest star is love, but it’s collapse can make a black hole nothing can escape.

All love’s pleasures draw blood.

Curious Mermaid

A mermaid’s curiosity, as the grand ship sailed up her cold, northern river, swimming by it, looking up at the men with unknowing, childlike wonder.

Not like the other land walkers, as they were heavily dressed and pale, their craft so grand and tall. They looked upon her and smiled, showing nothing of what was to come.

She swam beside them for a distance, returning the smiles and excited looks of those onboard, before diving below to tell of these strange land walkers.

Too soon, they’d know all about who they were.

Sales Pitch

One of Rev Bradley’s daughters had come; not Faith, not Charity, but Hope.

Maisie was on the back patio when her mother announced her, and let her out the glass sliding door.

Hope come on meek, with a Styrofoam container holding Giovanni’s cheesecake, Maisie’s favorite treat.

Maisie smiled, unsure and mixed feelings, seeing her earliest childhood friend, after they’d grown distant.

Hope sat down, gave Maisie the cheesecake, and Maisie started to eat as Hope gave her the sales pitch that had been her real reason for coming.

Maisie needed to pray and trust God. Needed to be more open. Needed to believe in light.

Maisie ate her cake, stared out into the little patch of woods, thought of the isolation of her worst and bleakest days when no light came near, the prayers that never escaped her skull, all the evil god constantly rewarded.

Maisie thanked Hope for coming and for the treat, hoping this was the end of the sales pitch. Hope knelt beside Maisie and gave her a big hug. But it was guile. Christians always had an angle.

Hope left, and in Maisie’s memory she saw the little girls they’d been, and how close they once were. But people change and go their own ways.

The was hers alone, the madness her demon to fight, and no platitudes or magical thinking were weapons against it.

It was a hot summer day, and Maisie took joy in it.


Orchid Perfume

Normal boys kiss their girlfriends goodnight.

Pisces was real in my arms, no dissonance in my head.

Kissing as if it were easy and intuitive, as I always knew its pleasures.


Clove cigarette smoke in my shirt, her orchid perfume in my hair.

Rebel and princess, like in her favorite movie.

Hollywood and its maudlin promises came through to burn us to the ground.


Pisces holds me close, one last time, in the graveyard afterwards.

Afterwords taking back what had been given.

It didn’t mean to her what it meant to me.

Kisses burn up like her clove cigarettes, sweet taste from poison and ash.


Athena made her town a place for a mermaid girl to swim to.

Pisces is in my blood, like orchid perfume and that goddamn movie.

The sun was hot on our bodies, even in February.

One room before the owl took me up. One kiss to snatch away hope.


God thinks this shit is funny.

Last Hurrah For Innocence

Pisces, she’s a sponge for clove cigarette smoke and the healing it gives in crystallized lungs, and the devotion I wield like a vengeful god.

Smoke and a sweet taste she licks off her lips, that I would kiss off her lips, sweetening the hope of catching that dragon.

One room that was a wish granted and the last hurrah for innocence, an afternoon content in perfection and that ruined every other woman.

At peace in her was I, Aries the war god, putting down my eyes to see her and her black semitic curls that had a half life as a fetish.

Mermaids are calling me now down the street, and Pisces stick together, and I claim nothing but a burned out memory, and a sweet taste on my lips.

Mermaids are captive and go home at night, witched out and disenchanted. Pisces knows the score and stays in Athens.

Dreams come true ruin you forever.