THE WEAVE:
Persephone entrances
the nymphs with a Tale,
below deck, in the Blackness
of the Night…
...IT... "It's ragged, and it's haggard, warped and withered, feathers mangled. It wrangles him immobile with its screeching, scratching throat chords. One eye protrudes, a heinous bulge, the other sunken, drooping. In both a hard, voracious stare the Hollow Hell has put there. It cranes above, his twitching form, it hunches close and low. In pain he hears, its vexing voice, he cringes, rigid, "Woe!" Now audience obtained, upon it's stinking breath, it breathes a Tale, although with or without Wigbeorn, it's prone to take to such regale...
...SOLILOQUY... "Another and another, still a one, and one by one. Stumbling, bumbling bloody sparrows, to their gallows come. In hopes of me: a dainty maiden, waiting to be saved. But one glance at my face, each bird would gladly turn away, or choose me just to lock me up and put me on display. A relic, on a mantle, cooped up, in a putrid rib cage. "Passeridae! The last her kind! A freak! A crone! A wonder!" You'd mock your Holy Grail. Ensnared, my rotting Heart would thunder. I hate you all, you vainest souls, look what you've made of me. This verse, rehearsed is not for you, for many I have seen. I hate you as I hate the rest: The worst, the best, the brave, the kind I hate you. Look into my eyes. You'll know it's not contrived."
Planetary Signatures 