Monthly Archives: October 2008

UNRUFFLING

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 UNRUFFLING

She petted
His ego
Until
He
Seemed
Calm;
He, then,
Painted
Her
A
Peacock
Fully
Fanned.
She  was
Delighted
To see
Her ego:
male
In
colorful
profusion.

Alice Parris

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LA MER

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Sacrebleu!
Ebb and flow

has not bruised
a solitary reed.

How could this be?
The nature of water;

sparkling diamonds
as well as the .

rage of Neptune.

What has happened
to La Mer? A mermaid

with glimmer-tail;
no fins, gills or scales.

Is this the essence
that inspired the sages?

Is this the mighty empress;
her sailors in genuflection?

Now, the burp in a gold-
fish bowl; uneventful and dull.

We must light our candles
for La Mer; colorful,

quenching nothing.

Alice Parris

ETERNAL IN YOUR EYES

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Your pools
Reflect
Awakened
Forgetfulness…
Time
Suspended,
Not forgotten…
Vaguely
Familiar
Memories
Of us
Locked
Into
Eternity.
A glance
Cannot
Escape
Being pulled
Into the
Ocean
Of wisdom
Settled there,
Knowing
I cannot
Forget
Myself
Eternal
In your
Eyes.

Alice Parris

THE BLACK WIDOW

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Mourners (with their funeral fans in motion)
Fanned themselves so furiously that the ink
Comprising the face of Martin Luther King Jr. 
Had begun to run down their banana-pudding-
Eating-elbows. Their pudgy fingers stained.
So… there he was, a stalwart man looking very
Stately in his white-satin-lined-bronze-toned coffin.
He wore the hat that had become his blues trademark.
She wore tawdry jewelry to the funeral. Feigned tears
Struggled across her face as she greeted the guests.
He looked at rest as only the truly debt- free can.
She looked the same way she looked a few years
Ago, when she buried her last husband. She had
Heavily-lidded cash register eyes. Sleep would
Eventually come, when the checks arrived in the mail.
Why, she could have thrown in a few ceremonial shovels
Of dirt, gotten her nails re-done, and still made it out to
The after hours blues club in her amazing wardrobe number;
A must have: a very, versatile, basic little black dress.    
  

Alice Parris

THE SEASON OF MARTYRS

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The Cardinal exults herself in muted shades of grey. The Robin has

lost his throbbing breast. Quietly,

he hops behind black curtains

hung from the heavens.

Our once-quiet home has become

the haunt of every bird of prey. Condors

spread their wings like peacocks

while the Great White Eagle watches.

… awaiting the signal, awaiting a sign.

Do we long for the smell of one last summer rain,

as sulfurous flames belch out from hell?

Who will make the preparations

as we enter the season of martyrs?

Alice Parris     

THE APPROACH OF DARKNESS

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Darkness revels
wearing her bloodied-cloak.
Closet doors creak open
at the approach of nightfall.
Skeletons tumble
from dusty closets. Nightmarish.
Pointing fingers burn.
The decomposed
render a powerful sermon.
They torment as no living can. 

Alice Parris

 
 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

FROZEN APACHE TEARS

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I stand on Sacred Land;
Apache Territory.  The
night is unmerciful,
frozen shards falling.

The full moon gives
birth to ice stars,
scattering them
across the obsidian night.

Tonight I have
ancestral visions
telescoped into my mind.

This great life force
forces me to roam
the night, to cradle the stars.

Alice Parris