Crone
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NOVEMBER PANTOUM Under scaffold and stone, dreams rise, Once a scaffolded crone, grey and burned, she barely stood. Locks click into place, bridges sag with unrequited love, Her walls, once crumbling, sing of love reborn. Once a scaffolded crone, grey and burned, she barely stood, Our Lady crowned anew with her sacred art. Read more
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LANDAY FOR AUGUST So many beautiful women over age of the cosmology of youth The compassion of Mother looks out from a Temple of the Crone Wrinkles of wisdom, lovers still in darkness, through winter Mysterious even after blood has stopped running with the moon Worn stories told in rolled papyrus held Behind the veil Read more
possiblissities 