Find us on Facebook!
NEVERMORE
  • Home
    • Masthead
    • To Fiddlestix
  • Current Edition
  • Archived Editions
    • Fall 2019
    • Spring 2019
    • Fall 2018
    • Spring 2018
    • Fall 2017
    • Spring 2017
    • Fall 2016
    • Spring 2016
    • Fall 2013
    • Spring 2013
    • Fall 2012 >
      • Fall 2012 Letter from the Editor
    • Spring 2012
    • Fall 2011
    • Spring 2011
    • Fall 2010 >
      • Bios - Fall 2010
    • Spring 2010
  • Guidelines

Zodiac

I.

I’ve raced fire on mars,
Transformed potential energy
into the kinetic.
I’ve rammed up the bar
(no limits)
And split the stars by being first
Into everything
I’ve dipped my hands.

II. 

I took that fire, made it earth
a place to stand on
fenced in pastures,
carried out dreams
which once were wisps
My hoofs left their indent
so I was satisfied

III.
  Hollow, like                  Spoken words
     lungs                           (parallel)
     echoing                        entwined
  into     ages                     our mind.
Our   minds                      into ages.
  (entwined)                      Echoing
   parallel                            lungs,
spoken words                hollow-like.


IV.

A disease in the stars.
I remember pinching,
                         clicking
There was something about moonlight
          and silver.

Did I pinch them into those 5-pointed shapes in the sky?

V.

The sun was in his mane
the day he bit his friend’s chest
so he could be called King.

VI.

There once was a maiden from Weare
  whose eyes were a sapphire stare
         but try as she might
       she never could fight
the lack of a man’s touch down there.

VII.

      Blind Lady Justice
light of Venus on her scales
   weighs the world in air

VIII.

Leather felt good

like a shell
to protect the flesh.
A poisonus dart
on your back, always aimed
regardless of friend or foe.

Both nameless, all same.

IX.

Sir Lancelot,
Sir Galahad,
Sir Gowan and the green
Rode horses,
white stallions,
each a stamping, noble steed.
The horns
the lutes
all voices in melodye
tell stories,
preach history,
and always spread a lie
of men in gold
crowns, purple cloth,
and rusted beards,
as if there were no horses
that stood up in fear.
Arrow to the leg,
blood trickling down:
Man stands up,
beast feels ground
rise up to taste blood
from crimson-holed wound
What kind of a story
makes hero die soon?
Sew on these legs
strap the arrow to your back,
rise up from dirt
with hooves that clack
a canter, a trot. Hear enemy cry
as straight from the bow
(sinew that snaps)
comes arrow aimed with a centaur eye.
 
X.

Fur and scales;
Half-mermaid born
in time of snow.

 Saturn rings around
a cusp of time,
sawing personalities in half.

I thought you were my friend,
I know you are my mother.

XI.

It’s the dawning of the age
     where people seek answers
          in a pool of liquid crystal.
 
Dragging stones from creek beds
                     to the edge of the surface 
                for divination on bleached branches,\
          white from salt and sun.

Eyes peered into the future
       Smooth rocks asked secrets
                           by murmuring lips.  
 
                 The rocks lie still
           even in the bottom
     of the stone pitcher;
Water dripping from the mouth onto my shoulders.

Eyes impatient for an aswer
           hurl the failed subjects, making ripples. Knowing
only the river stared back

XII.

When you’ve reached an end, remember
once upon death, cycles start again.


Heather Brown
Powered by Create your own unique website with customizable templates.