Dearest Vestina,
A word with no twig is a bird.
Category: Riffs & Poetry
Riffs, raps, song, ink slung to a righteous bass line, and possibly a poem or two.
#PoetryFactory
Would it be more profitable
To be a painter paid by the word
Or a poet paid by the pound?
The Locksmith
You said, Moonboots & spacesuits
ain’t never made a man— True, however
Nia said, Whosoever would be, alas,
done already had at least one
Muse clad in cowboy boots n’ denim
Is The Sky
My father is the fisherman
Vassal of Poseidon’s tides
Older than Ulmo, older than Nereus
He is The Depths of the primordial seas
Coven Tree
The trick as Witch is to work Magic & not disappear, The trick as Host is to be at your own party
Sylvia’s Longbeaux
I shall de-
sire you of more acquaintance,
Good Master Cobweb…
A Jumper’s Prayer
Each with a 33
contrarily tucked under their curling tails
for the Quadrupling quarterstitch
The LOON
So, Where is it then
My silvertine friend
She said to a raven
She said to a loon
Tea Time with Nia
a clock over the mantle and a clock over the kitchen, the rest of the house oblivious to time but for the paint cracking outside,
Nia’s Summons
Just because
Keeping track of Timelords
As a shepherdess should
Is what she does.