frigid waters

if it had, or it hadn’t
if it did, or it didn’t
flat and flattened
a blank slate, from nowhere
the eight riders of Gemini
history is not a stale and dead enterprise
The gifts of wandering stars, and the magi
a soft, half merger for some dye businesses
a circuit, between emanations of light

what’s there and what isn’t
contradictions and doublespeak
living underground, and then finally seeing the sun
the floodgates are open, parting the Red Sea
the last terrible, bitter roots, are finally weeded
ground down and ground out
legends of the giants and djinn
paganism, and the ancient Amber Road
it did and it didn’t

out of basements, and primeval forests
the migration of Eurasians, off of the Steppe
prehistoric fire giants and volcanoes
hidden in the oldest part of Europe
spirits and cities – a world on the moon
thunderous Perun, Iupiter and Indra
there and not there
feel like an out-of-place alien, on earth
leftovers, from the future

Prometheus and the phoenix; light, and fire
the reemergence of real feelings
a great Angel, at the Edge, in the bright light
the secret of Central Asia and the Steppe
an inadequate ideology
warm sea and lush land
when the continents were in unusual places
a tranquil world, shrouded in falling rain
ellipses and uncertainty

put purpose into practice
not a watch, but a Band-Aid
peer over the edge, into a dark grove
it is and it isn’t

Please do not repost without my permission, but you can support my poetry here! Originally written 10/10/20. Copyright, All Rights Reserved. All art, not from the author, belongs to the original artists.

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deep ice

wastelands of sand and decay
forgotten empires, in the desert
trash dreams
eel grotto cavern
through the veil
we came down from the sky
vampires never get old
the king of the bats
buried in Dark Atlantis

something primordial
ancient desert worm
the fountains that hold up the earth
pour out a vial of hatred
Godzilla-like “angel”
put the sky at your feet
the other world
eel hole grotto
stand in an ash circle

run-down ramparts, on the outskirts
all timelines, all parallel dimensions
a star and a cake
the Atlantean
almost beautiful
the sun is too bright
pain smiles
statues in the desert
bright winters

deserts are older
the 1000-year reincarnation of Indra
the sky is beneath you
dragons are supposed to fly
the breath of decay
1991. annus mirabilis.
springs left over from Eden
mourning for a lost probable future
Santorini, Greek mythology, and Atlantis

ruins, that weren’t really ruins at all
beyond the North
into the sandstorm
one cannot exist without a shadow

Please do not repost without my permission, but you can support my poetry here! Originally written 10/10/20. Copyright, All Rights Reserved. All art, not from the author, belongs to the original artists.