[I am on the breeze. You know that feeling of a periphery mirage? — The almost-catching, glimpse of effervescent essence in the outskirts of sight. Somewhat ghost, pseudo-phantom. Something teasing, just beyond what you can see. And yet, this almost-seeing is also seeing: a kind of seeing. One notices — a wisp; a will. A lift. A glimmer. Who are they? When they arrive, there is always something on the air. A shift. This fourteenth ode brought with it such miragery. A lilting figure. The feral queen of sumpt and sour, though with a benevalence. A cloaked magician, weaving stars; keeping a careful, light, capable watch. Almost playful. There is an air of mystery to it. Perhaps a bit of intrigue~
In my first recitation recording I happened to read ‘groundcover’ aloud as “coverground” — which does have compelling lyric to it. After some deliberation, it was decided to preserve the integrity of the transcribed ‘groundcover’ despite the distinct curios uncovered with ‘coverground’. Since you all are reading this here, you can play with the two versions should you like to see what hides around ‘coverground’ ] Received 10/16/2025 | 11:03-25am
Companion Missive #14 - FORGIVANCES FORGRIEVANCES (8/14/2023)
Listen to the Recitation:
VANISHED
The hour on a dark burr
Come again, to me
The black sun rises
With a peach heavy laden
Torn from skin to a lion’s tooth
Grin of calabass, a purjury’s
Flame, flicker alight
Perishing thought fell tor
Turous tending, find
A stone parapet from outlook
Castle kept orders under din
Herald of banshee, cries
For the deep, of the depths
Poem cajole the sunstreaked
Sisyphus who yearns for the eagle
To come and tear his own feet
Away their course, calloused
Paddock bare of groundcover
Green thyme and purple sage
A billowed cloak takes the wind
And folds the minute in two
The decade in ten, nigh!
The clock counts again the bed’s
Deterring deign, a dazzled star
Sent careening to the nether
Ground of being, I care for you
And kiss your tress, smooth
Your folds of ball gown wrinkling
Prow of destine, I bow to you
Unthinking, for the thought would not
Dare to dissolve before the face
Feral queen of sumpt and sour
The reaches cannot touch you
As you bend away in the moment
