She’s suf­foc­at­ing in the midst of red blown glass each breath shat­ters silence crazed chaotic edges her bal­ance is del­ic­ate, slid­ing insane she slips into mad­ness and eleg­ant pain You fail to fathom her pur­poses absurd out­bursts and ali­en­a­tion your inflec­tions arc in…

for jason when I touched your skin you trembled — no other fin­ger­tips had fluttered there before you caught your breath tried to still your ragged shak­ing I stroked your arm and kissed your eyes shut

the notes tumble from the gongs swirl­ing around my head, set­tling on thoughts like stray feath­ers moment­ar­ily until, breeze-like, a cymbal tickles a higher pitch and brushes it onward. Down­ward, inward. How can music live with The decisions of its people? The agony of…

It was not I nor would I have it be Who kissed those lips then had them rent from me Tis not my eyes nor hand nor breath you feel It is not I who steals you from your sleep. In darkest night I whispered solemn truth Alas I spoke too soon or late or both They called…

‘an I returned, as few fore­told — after all, he was the once and future while I was merely a hand­maiden and much maligned at that — I went straight to our beloved spot, At Cad­bury, our Cam­elot, expect­ing A roof at least, per­haps my garden, O’er­grown but at least…