Lady, your falcon is a peril
ok, this is how you do it.
Do you trust a witch? yes
we are sharing visions.
during our forced intermission,
I became a lantern and
my own crucifixion was
paused to grow my
sparkling spine sharp like
sudden beams of light shining
on your morning sex and
I walked forward slaughtering
everything hidden with a
wave of my hand, focused
eyes incantation, scribe
and text I having been reborn with bone
like wand, am luring rooks
for guns and ;
turning mice to men
with a flash of tongue
and then turning men to wolves
to find him.
the queen is fat now
gorging herself with army;
the war you begged for
and are bound to get
is here on time.
I gather every friend I know
and share my plans
for combat enticing each one
with a different reward.
this is the queen you
asked for:
acerbic communist,
generous with her
violence, but you are
Persephone’s
final futile hours
picking berries in the
garden,
sniffing tulips absentmindedly,
(nevermind the sunset)
plucking lilies from the water,
watching the ripples form circles
around your fingertips
and then you’re
screaming at your flowers
being swallowed by the ground
switch places
an earthworm bit her and said
as Pallas emerged with reminders,
a sello from the water,
floral crown and
speaking in her native tongue:
ways to blow direction,
ways to conjure storms.
oh, here it is again,
that little lie about choice
she goes with her knees
falling through the earth,
prayer hands.
but she goes and keeps
her head above that dirt,
what’s a curse to those who
know the power
of reverse?
well, we are sharing visions.
“the magician reversed”
imagine being so hard on yourself that you’d rather die, than face yourself ever again. 
these postcards may not be clean yet, but I am extremely proud of myself for allowing my mind to wander enough to produce enough templates to understand that I actually am watching a book synthesize without knowing the end result when I started. that’s: unlike me, what was suggested I do, and how I learned to trust my intuition wholeheartedly. and it’s better than I expected (it always is). 
no bra
and a weak smile,
mildly uncomfortable with
the idea of asking anything
more than how are you?
visible tan lines and big eyes,
hourglass and
a mostly untrained sex appeal,
a mostly stifled violence,
mostly mute when questioned,
always suddenly falling
silent.
how are you?
lost, giving me
directions and
grimacing at the
passing time.
“how guys save me in their phone”
Part 4: The Act Of Chasing Things
“Jung ponders, “How can evil be integrated? There is only one possibility: to assimilate it, that is to say, raise it to the level of consciousness.”
spend too much time in scrutiny
and you find knives
in your hands.
11.
in fact,
resilience is sometimes the
only consolation.
so hold that tight
at night
like flesh.
11.
daturamoon.com 