The Mad River | Poetry

Operations- In Standing Dead Wood

in spirits we touch the earth

as lightning fondles plasma

Photo by Elen Smith Jekyll Island.

operations- in standing dead wood

in jars of madness she in-gathered her materials as standing dead wood

stored love glass-stained lifetimes of precious time between lifetimes

she studied stars sutured space between breaths incising antimatter

in her sweet desert breath I am ignited as her standing dead wood fed on pine tar studded with beach glass

Santa Muerte

lost teeth in pursuit of sugar

spirit of the dead la duede morte Geist of writhing

raspberries caps on my finger tips and tongue cool morning breeze

lily nectar orange pollen drop on my hands open doorway to rooms where every dance is some eternal thing

with Leonid dreads and thin strong Saturnine bones gravity sculpted dance-trained

parts of me form a moving circle hair and flame harvest the night

we bend our spines in worship wearing stars like raindrops

in spirits we touch the earth as lightning fondles plasma freedom spent is freedom earned

in her arms our nothing fills with her everything she combusts the void between our empty molecules

as the world was before form entered this place life sentence of lonely

©Mike Ketch

[Peculiar Julia](2), [Daphelba](2), and [edh lamport](2) for welcoming me home. May we all live in the magical of river madness for all of our days. 🎏