I came from the sand.
I climbed out, faithless, to find you.
I covered my hungry hands with your smile,
I walked barefoot through coniferous woods,
I sweat glass and bled silver into your mouth,
and when you, the sun, the inferno that called me,
asked me why I came,
I showered sharks teeth upon you 
and returned as salt to my desert.

Josya

"Belong to" is not the same as "depend on", we once agreed, although some languages do not distinguish the two. You claimed you refused to be possessed, embracing your owner while holding my hand. "I wouldn't want her to say she loved me anyway." Sixty-three night strolls, a half-dozen bottles of gin and countless pages later, we were clearing out. She was calling you, but you'd be back, you assured me. I don't remember goodbye.

That summer, I was hiding again. I sent you one hundred hideous snakes of Medusa and you returned each one headless, covered in red marks, prodding me out from inside. Until you wrote you were staying. I knew the decision depended on her, belonged to her, and when you disappeared, you were still exclaiming that you refused to be deceived. Her words from your mouth were the last I heard of you.

Now that you are gone, what does your memory depend on?  To whom does your memory belong?

<>
they tell you
in more words
that will slide
off the tongue
as soon as
we leave town.
Raised in a mythology
of fortune
tellers without sight,
we dream sleepless
nights spent chanting
<< abracadabra. >>

Finally, A Medusa. Pharmakos. One.

The porcelain of her smile gleams

iridescent in his stagnant memory,

complementing her cerulean eye.

Pristine china white and stormy beryl
churn over the victims of her gorgon gaze

as a thick syrup of malice drips

from the corners of a gaping,
black mouth like a cat's, frozen in a frown.

Praying for safety cloaked in deception                     

as he plunged beneath the undertow of night, 
a glance illuminated his 

heart, hardened 

by her wicked hair of snakes.

Life is Everywhere.

Nickolai Yaroshenko
Life is Everywhere.

Nemesis/Narcissus

I am drowning an effigy

in liquor and letters,
this caricature carried

in wine and worn books.

In the mirror your smile
splits wider than ever,

baring the teeth of a wolf.

This is What Friedrich Told me Today to the Best of my Understanding

1. Meekness is Weakness.

2. Lamenting over past deeds is a waste of time, it is detrimental to oneself, and it is degradation. It is one thing to acknowledge one's wrongs and subsequently to learn from them. It is quite another to dwell on those wrongs and make them obstacles.

3. Never compromise oneself. To compromise the self demonstrates a lack of will, and a lack of any conviction. There can be no leniency toward one's own weaknesses. The only other possibility is to change or cast off convictions.

4. Objectivity does not exist. Beauty and goodness exist only as they are determined to benefit the individual. The ugly and the evil are the signs and symptoms of all that is detrimental, damaging, cankerous, and corrupt. Whether anything is beneficial or detrimental is determined by the goal, or the will, to which it applies.

Under consideration: 5. Life is art and art, life. All creation is an art, is art. Art stimulates life, inspires life, and expresses life. In this case, what am I to make of destruction as creation?