Tag Archives: mt shasta

Impatient For The Stars

Daisie sits on a swing in a small park

just off the two lane highway,

somewhere in Kansas.

We’re on vacation, finally, heading

to Northern California, to Mt Shasta,

and the ships in the air.

I sit on the swing beside her and we

pass a huge plastic cup of fast food iced tea

back and forth between us.

There’s a splinter in her heart tonight,

and I don’t know how to soothe her.

We’re chasing something beyond this world.

The park is as tired as a resigned sigh,

and the swings and jungle gyms and spring animals

have seen better days. Still children happily play here.

The sky is so huge it could swallow us, like God swallows

the universe in his eye, and we may stay until the stars come,

so we could look out on the night through God’s eye.

A long way to go to get where angels or demons or

otherworldly beings make sense of this restlessness

and unquiet, this desire to escape flesh and gravity.

Out of tea, she places the empty cup by her feet,

and we look up at the sky, impatient for the stars,

for the voice that quiets the terror and dislocation.

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A Thorn in Her Flesh

Rebekah stood before the black wire fence,

looking out onto a sky, a whole entire world,

a deep and cold blue in the late evening.

The wind was cool on her bare arms,

standing there in thin t-shirt and jeans,

not anticipating the cool of the night in the desert.

The fence was behind the hotel, to keep out

the coyotes and predators, those also on two feet.

She watched the horizon, expecting something, fearing it.

She and her friend, a trusted male friend, very rare,

sat in a loud sports bar. She nursed a weak and pale beer.

He watched her over his burger. Wanting to say something.

She smiled for him, took a sip of beer, tried to watch a game.

The noise and lights and motion and thumping music was

making her jittery, only worsening her anxiety and dread.

They were headed to Mt Shasta. To Northern California.

Was it foolish to go there? To test these dreams and fears?

She wanted out of this loud bar. The fearful quiet was better.

She lay on her bed, the hotel room had two, and though sleepless

was still and in a dreaded, alien peace, without her phone and it’s

music and videos and baubles, that soothed the thorn in her flesh.

The outline of the streetlight outside made shapes of husks and demons,

and she feared that she was mad and she feared the demons were real,

and she feared that nothing would ever let her escape these things.

Her friend slept easy. Maybe as a man he was much better and choking

and stamping down all these black and corrosive feelings, pretending

it was all alright. The shadows shifted. The outline reached for her.

Nothing would ever set her free.

Emptiness In The Stars

The woman wore dirty, low top sneakers.
And old style. Falling apart. Frayed Laces.
She propped her feet up on the dashboard.
She looked out the window. I didn’t try to talk.
A Bible thumping station played on the radio.
They said The Rapture was coming; Their Revenge.
The Rockies started to raise over the arid plains.
The woman said her father landed at Mt. Shasta.
The woman said she felt an emptiness in the stars.
Bailey Colorado, I drop her off. Says her father’s here.
She says the emptiness, the ache will end now forever.
We’re all looking for The Rapture, Going Home, Our Revenge.

Ride or Die

Mt Shasta, in early spring. Melting snow. Tender buds.
She holds tight to me, our helmets touching, at speed.
The UFO were all nested here, baby birds, shivering.
Left by a mothership, to do her will, win her battles.
She said she saw gossamer wings in my back, shiny.
She kissed me, said I could fight for her, and win.
The nest was in the mountain, where pale men, ghosts,
plotted the war, fed the baby birds, sharpened their talons.
That night, her body was warm and bare against my back.
She radiated, and swallowed that heat greedily, needy.
Were we soldiers, or angels going home, or releaser of
the light that all things. She said even the UFO shone bright.
I stopped the motorbike, looked at the mountain, helmets touching.
I fight for her. I fight for her, which is fighting for myself, for a home.
We might go home, or we might just leave these corporeal bodies.
We might lift the Demiurge’s curse, and make everyone free and clean.
I revved the motorbike and sped to gate between the road and heaven.
She said I had wings. That I could fight for her. She said I could win.