.. .. .. .. .. .. .... your eyes that are colors of sea and sky and rain and mist and pond and lily could not fool me in spite of their glaze of sorrow for i saw in them beneath that haze the elflands of whence you speak.  your eyes have bowers.  your eyes have steppes.  your eyes have unruly gardens and mazes and castles, meadows.  turrets and balustrades and spires and rose windows of colored glass.  your eyes have vaulted halls and jeweled thrones.  your eyes have vast beds covered in feathers where lovers may toss and tumble.  there was no denial of love in your eyes though your brow dripped with frost and your shoulders hunched forward with cold beneath your cloak.  your eyes spoke in poetry distilled crystal amber quartz the sheen of water  on bulb filled earth.  and it was not just your eyes.  it was, my love, your voice.  your voice that is the  rumbling of the  ore that runs through  veins of mother earth.  your voice that is the echoing glow of twilit sea.  your voice that is the  wilding  snarl of  vision questing beast.  your voice that is the lull of mama and the father's fierce protection and the lilt of beautiful golden gilded  boy.  there was no disguising the knowledge of love in that full and sensate voice.  and though i fear to say the words those three words so misused abused like a  broken blinded muted woman you can see them in my eyes my eyes and you can hear them in the inarticulate howls of joy that escape my throat

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I wear a mound of dark feathers between my legs oh yes I have a cat that purrs between my legs oh yes I have a hard and bristling boar I ride between my legs....

I wear the giant beads and rod of your sex as jewels when you straddle me ....

My nipples are rose quartz turned to flesh....

Oh yes I become a deer and offer you my backside....

Oh yes liquid amber pours from me....

Hardening into ornaments for you to wear my love....

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Oh yes though I was in a tangled trance of pain still I remember how you rescued me from the suitors who would eat me alive....

with their teeth filed sharp to distract from flaccid members....

Who would reach inside of me without looking in my eyes....

Who would call me witch and slave and beast and ugly whore....

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Oh yes I remember how you came and rescued me....

How you held me in that dark cave and comforted me ....

how you came with me into the world of ice....

and slew death with your wand and the crust of white burn cracked and my mother opened her eyes like leaves and breathed again....

I had almost surrendered....

No you said, do not give in....

Your kisses infused me....

Your wand inside me reawakened the power of potential cretaion that lives between us....

As the babe of poetry and love and hope....

.. .. .. .. .. .. ....

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My heart lusts for you.... The way they say my body lusted after all those men.... And that gold necklace.... For which i fucked four dwarves to own.... But never did I lust for gold or sex or the worship of subjects.... I lusted for your heart your mind your soul your company.... I lusted for your voice lulling me to sleep.... And the curve of your naked back turned to me curled to me in the bed.... I lusted for your elvish tales.... And your sinuous fountain dances.... And your merry laughter.... And the precious liquid in your veins.... I wore a cloak of feathers and huge beads of amber but not out of greed....  or narcissism.... I wore these things so you would notice me if you walked past.... I rode a boar or a chariot drawn by cats.... Not out of pride.... But so you would see me when I flew across your sky.... I love your loins your sex the thrust of you inside me.... But it is something much more ephemeral I dreamed of those long days.... And if I ever was called whore or, then, queen.... They were only dresses I put on to make bearable the wait....

Husband I have grown weary from searching
The cats that draw my chariot are ragged fur on pointed bone
The feathers of my cloak are moulting
The amber beads upon my neck have melted and turned to tears
like the tree tears from whence they came
Even our child’s smile is not enough to soothe me
Even my dearest jewel with her eyes aglitter and her voice of birds
For how will I care for her alone?
How will she learn the ways of love
Seeing only a weeping woman who has ceased to dance?
Here I sit, holding her in my arms, offering her my breast
But she does not know how I wander

I will become the silvered glint of dawn on the lake
I will become the pale blue flowered flax ripped from the soil, winnowed retted, scutched and heckled as you will
I will shape shift to animal
Rooting in the mud, exposing my raw teats to the hungry mouths of many fat, pink and snouted babes, running from the butcher’s blade
I will wear a disguise of my former beauty and go into the tent
I will spread my legs for any man that comes
And I will bleed and burn and dream of you

I will go down to hell and sit on a throne
I will wait through this long, long winter
Holding my child to my breast for comfort
But I remember how you and I danced on the bridge how the moon became my jewels afloat upon the water
How we heard the drums beating and the tree dripped amber and held our bodies as you entered me?
If this happened my love if I can remember this
Then all is not lost
What exists in my heart is as real as what my eyes see
In the dark chambers  I sit
And breathe in the memory of the spring that evermore awaits

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My love come and rest your head on this bosom....

I will wrap you in my feathered cloak....

I will trace the lines of your face, your throat....

my fingers in awe and wonderment wonder if you are real....

I am here but part of me waits in the darkness....

waiting to believe you have truly come....

.. ..

Just as long I have waited for you on the cliffs the precipice....

the ocean like shreds and tatters of dark silk....

the stars like broken beads from my gold necklace....

scattered, scattered I cannot gather them for adornment....

I wept tears that fell into that morass of semen salt....

I raised my hands to that sky of lost jewels....

.. ..

I lost my voice there on the cliffs....

A lump grew in my throat that slowed my whole body....

made my skin grow thick and my hair grow thin....

I doubled over in pain my innards burning....

Acid spiked my mouth, tore at my tongue....

My skin burst with flames encased in pores....

.. ..

I lost my tears there on the cliffs....

Dry as desert I sobbed out nothing....

.. ..

I lost my pleasure there on the cliffs....

Tight and hard I bucked against the hands of strangers....

.. ..

I lost my soul on those cliffs....

She wandered away in search of you....

a small hooded figure she walked into the wind....

her head bent carrying with her in a tattered sack....

my voice, my tears, my sex....

trying to deliver them and herself into your arms....

.. ..

Now you have come and I fall to my knees before you....

Your staff is strong and hard but it does not make you forget your heart....

I would caress you through darkness and into the first glimmers of light....

but my heart feels fragile like a small girl, a broken thing....

and my soul waits in the dark corners, crouched and shrouded....

She is afraid to come too near....

but from afar she strokes herself and worships you....

.. .. .. .. .. .. ....

O my love there are a hundred flowers you left in the house....

.. ..

There is the flower of come to me at dawn so I may watch the white light slowly illumine a face i have only seen in darkness....

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There is the flower of She who walks barefoot through the countryside with her will-o-wisps....

.. ..

There is the flower of dead friends who return to comfort us in sleep....

.. ..

There is the flower of I have been looking for you since I was a youngling....

.. ..

There is the flower of you are the first man I have wanted to cook for in twenty odd years....

.. ..

There is the flower of the beings of light have returned to my garden with their hyacinth beds, their abalone shell bathtubs and their fat white stools sprouting from the dew struck lawn....

.. ..

There is the flower of from your eyes I receive more love with which to care for my children....

.. ..

There is the flower of young Valley pranksters wild with their laughter that rings through the night in the sunken star bowl....

.. ..

There is the flower of shall we eat gluten free pancakes?....

.. ..

There is the flower of when you are inside of me it will feel so good because it is you....

.. ..

There is the flower of our two hearts connected beating a song of healing for the darkest of gardens....

.. ..

There is the flower of take my hand and step with me into the book of shadows....

.. ..

There is the flower of how to be naked for the purpose of ritual....

.. ..

There is the flower of your stalk, your staff, my bud, my cup....

.. ..

There is the flower of crisp white shirt and neat black vest and pumping heart on which to rest my head....

.. ..

There is the flower of wounds revealed and then quickly hidden once again only to find that the next time they are shown the mending has progressed....

.. ..

There is the flower of evident perfection of our meeting....

.. ..

There is the flower of a voice as deep and rich as ocean brine calling back my mermaid self....

.. ..

There is the flower of the poem lost unsaved in my computer that began “sweet swallow lad, lord of the nestlings”....

.. ..

There is the flower of carnival velvet corseted dancings and pie celebrations to come....

.. ..

There is the flower of brief time on earth when we cherish each morning....

.. ..

There is the flower of my mother writing again in the hospital where ginger stalks grow and bloom spices outside the window....

.. ..

There is the flower of finding the two of cups card in my storage room long lost from it’s deck days before your arrival....

.. ..

There is the flower of my bare legs twining over your jeans, my bare fingers kneading the muscles that move beneath your white shirt....

.. ..

There is the flower of tracing the ridge of your nose, the cleft of your chin like a sculptor in awe of rock soul discovery....

.. ..

There is the flower of when you will sleep the day in my room....

and I will sneak in to pelt you with kisses....

.. ..

There is the flower of no shame between us....

.. ..

There is the flower of kindness between us....

.. ..

There is the flower of poems between us....

.. ..

There is the flower of how you perceived the magic of shoes when last year my feet barely worked....

.. ..

There is the flower of the beckoning V of your chest and your tender heart center ....

.. ..

There is the flower of a place inside me that bursts like a tear duct when you penetrate me....

.. ..

There is the flower of your unleashed semen....

.. ..

There is the flower of our reverent hesitation....

.. ..

There is the flower of you returning....

.. ..

There is the flower of new autumn’s night’s dreaming....

.. ..

.. ..

There is the flower of eating in bed-land....

.. ..

There is the flower of our rumbling bodies....

.. ..

There is the flower of this birch tree woman....

.. ..

There is the flower of you, eucalyptus....

.. ..

There is the flower of we who love our mamas....

.. ..

There is the flower of your hard nose a-nuzzling....

.. ..

There is the flower of your dark hair fallen forward....

.. ..

There is the flower of condoms unfurling....

.. ..

There is the flower of your come tastes so sweetly....

.. ..

There is the flower of wet pearls unleashing....

.. ..

There is the flower of no longer weeping....

.. ..

There is the flower of twelve sex-scented roses....

There is the flower of good food in the evening....

There is the flower of fogfilled sparkled city....

There is the flower of my feet don’t hurt me....

There is the flower of your eyes changing colors....

There is the flower of my rose quartz tiara....

There is the flower of our walk o’er the water....

There is the flower of writhing on chain link....

There is the flower of my city echanted....

There is the flower of elf-lights on the water....

There is the flower of this tree holds our bodies....

There is the flower of this tree is our body....

There is the flower of finally i’ve found you....

There is the flower of on my knees before you....

There is the flower of on your knees before me....

There is the flower of our dance in the soft light....

There is the flower of my rock star, my wizard....

There is the flower of with dance I beseech you....

There is theflower of feeding your hunger....

Ther is the flower of come to my bedroom....

There is the flower of enter me at dawning....

There is the flower of my darling, my dayling....

There is the flower of length breadth of your thrusting....

There is the flower of your face above me....

There is the flower of my chant to the Ladies....

There is the flower of like water I cherish thee....

There is the flower of like air I cherish thee....

There is the fower of like light I cherish thee....

There is the flower of like food I cherish thee....

There is the flower of like words I cherish thee....

There is the flower of horned god hunched o’er me....

There is the flower of your come releasing ....

There is the flower of no fear between us ....

There is the flower of alone in the morning I come back beside you needing your comfort scared for my mommy and as if knowing and as if hearing you turn and you hold me you turn and you warm me you turn and you make me safe in the daylight as well as the darkness....

.. ..

There is the flower of your mind in blossom....

There is the flower of my loins are aching....

There is the flower of our laughter twining....

There is the flower of our tears combining....

There is the flower of my milk returning....

There is the flower of my strawberries ripening....

There is the flower of let me undress you....

There is the flower of let me unwind you....

There is the flower of let me unleash you....

There is the flower of finding lost playmates....

There is the flower of sweet Robin good-fellow....

There is the flower of goat’s slitted pupils....

There is the flower of pumpkins a-rolling....

There is the flower of the sad, remote llama....

There is the flower of all hallows coming....

There is the flower of our muses calling....

There is the flower of our joy returning....

http://musicishere.com/artist/54258-Nightmare-of-the-Elf/52986-Graveyard-Dance-Party.. .. .. .. .. .. ....

Nightmare of the Elf Graveyard Dance Party....

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Just because I have a HUGE crush on the lead singer does not mean I cannot be objective about Nightmare of the Elf.  Infectious dance beats mixed with intelligent, often humourous and witty lyrics make this band worth hearing. Best of all, strong guitar and drums back up John Landau’s powerful, versatile voice.  He can do a mean Peter Murphy, Sid Vicious or Danny Elfman but with a very personal twist of his own. Landau’s knowledge of psychology, sociology and mythology weaves it way through the album, but never pretentiously; this band knows how to keep things playful and danceable. “Waste” and “Brat” are awesome punk rock anthems.  The catchy, self-reflexive “I Have No Name” will stay in your head. “Time to Go to Work” provides new wave social commentary to bounce around to.  “Lucy” is a romantic goth love song that anyone who likes my books will probably enjoy.  “Visions” is utterly haunting.  Well, maybe I’m not totally objective (that lead singer is REALLY cute, smart and sexy) but I still really love this album. Think! Feel! Laugh Dance! Rock out! Make out! Check out Nightmare of the Elf!....