Monday, February 25, 2013

Monday, February 11, 2013


i am not allowed to long for you

the wind has been endless
raging over and to you
your sentences left falling off
married to married to
your un-seperate self
it is easier to want to hate
not longing howling
shaking trees moving everything
who was i?
blind by tossed ash
the dust of what i had
pale like breath in comparison
to the gale
when i lost him
i left
your hands held no knowledge
to the songs of his blasts
that shook me
and carried me
until at last
i broke


Tuesday, January 08, 2013

Bird Left Behind

 As for her, the circumstances must be ordinary
And so the return.
Door unlocked. The path mowed
Right to the oiled gate; the pasture

Cleared of stone and alder. All untouched
Enough to enter. The man or woman
Off down the valley or working above

Treeline. No other sound but a few strays
Hurrying through the dusk as if the end
Will begin, certain and with nothing

 More to say. She does not know she does not know.
Having come back to find her kind
And none being left she took herself up
 Into a tree unclear what to do next save only
Sing the song she wanted sung back to her.

Thursday, October 18, 2012

So I will write this to the Corbyhawk although I was once the Corbyhawk in my vision I was blind I thought for a moment but it was gone and now I am shaking myself thinking what a silly fool am I?

Friday, October 12, 2012

My enraged talent Bites off its tail Circling around and around Itself it is ultimately doomed To fail... I miss my muse Maybe next sat??

Tuesday, October 02, 2012

I build this shack
and call it love
hang out cheap plastic baubles
to tempt the eye
Falling through floorboards
It cannot hold you up.
I hold this lie called hope
that someone will come in
and re-model.

By the Corbyhawk

Saturday, September 22, 2012

Pomegranate on my lips
I had no idea
your sweetness
was a death sentence

Offered by your hands
for a lifetime
I was forced to return to you
and once again feel the agony of our parting

To re-live the moment
when I looked into your eyes
and found the echoes of my own soul

Now ripped forth
into the kingdom of the living
dry and sun worn
the corn is dying on the plant

Once this was your place
we walked in the tall grass
you offered me the food from your lips
and proclaimed it sacred 
The raw starchy kernels
burst under my teeth
filling my mouth
with the milk of life

How did we turn to dying?
You offering the fruit that keeps me here forever.

 -Corbyhawk as Persephone