beautiful                                 cattail







() sorceress heart ()

















like dawn, like the sun

but keeping the shine inward



transparent skin

deep red flame


and release, a scream, a torture to the self to be received




you feel it, piercing the skin

and it hurts

it hurts like the great eye staring through the lens of hell

it hurts


i cast my spell



pleasure of knowing the power



deeply, eyes staring


at you, fallen



my pure breath insults your suffering


and that is all



“You can find out your score tomorrow to see if you passed or not.” ß said to me.

not said to me à “Okay, next examinee, please come forward and tell me  your name.”


sailing over green, aromatic grass

cape brushing the ground


“How did you think you did?” ß eager


& giggling “Well, that monster certainly stood no chance.”


“Wow, you’re really good, then.  I was only taking the Second Year entrance exam and they said a lot of the examinees fainted flat out because the fights were so grueling.”


“The only way to beat a beast from hell is to turn his fire against him.”


tainted blade

no such thing as a clean one

attached to a hand

and noble too


“Do you love it?”




“Love what?”


“Being a sorceress.”


“It is a drug, an addiction.  No one loves being a sorceress who has touched the magic.”


not when i saw it

i saw it a year ago




cattails swaying in the wind

the pond


like my flesh

and yet

i feel it

the falling

there it is

no eyes

no ears

no hands

no feet

no heart

but it is alive


[   ]




magic of the transcendental

prying me open

i touched it, felt its cool scales

and then its trunk against my naked body

the blistering heat entering

causing me to collapse

eat the grass around


















the land is bare like my body

only one lone cattail

the magic

and I


i snatch it up into my arms

bite it savagely

it is angry

i feel it clawing me without nails

my blood flowing along the ground


into the pond


i desire it so greatly

i squeeze it with my fingers

its dull gray constituents now oozing

covering my arms and then my breasts and my face and my legs and my toes

taste it


i am


the fury of the wind of moving



“The magic is cold.”


She is frightened à “What of the beauty of the supernatural?”


touch my skin to hers


“It’s so gray and sedated.  But your silky, wavy golden hair is not like your fingers.  They burn with passion.”


my hair, golden


&cry not “


you think it is passion?


passion is human

the organic vitality of the gentle undulating

                        cells with bright or mellow shades


or pulsating, blistering liquids.


my hair is not passion.”


Her à “Then it is death.  Your hair is death.”


but questioning, as in

   “Death like peace, or death like kill?”


“Death like kill, sweet sorceress, death like kill.”





















and but to the great halls

of mothers and fathers past

in the glory of the kingdom

the art of tower’s ombre




but and if i wish to be

but wish to be without

and if he demand i do

and yet i’d do without

would it be or ought it not

that i come and wed i be

when life he ask it need

but lost or cruel in knot




“Please marry him, you must, you must

His rank your power combined it would be



“Shut up.” ß under


like the gleam of my eyes