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The swirlings have begun again

The ancestors, knocking

The babies, crying

The choices, beckoning

The holographic realizations, expanding

The foundations, crumbling

The blazing electrical rerouting, destroying

I keep freezing

I keep freezing


This CPU, once able to conduct

What flows through me

Is breaking, again

The terror of its outmoded form


Although timely

Haunts my days


Beckoned, once again

To step into new clothes, new understanding

New wakings, new dyings

These circuit boards are blitzing out

Frequent blankness

Random shut downs

Booting issues

All of these apply

To this slowly failing

Outmoded processing unit


If you calculate the ancestors

That may be waiting to download

Waiting for the seventh son of a seventh son

To finally heal the lines

It doesn’t take that long

To get into the thousands

Thousands waiting

Thousands hovering

Thousands begging

For the one to receive

Thousands of wounds

Thousands of traumas

Thousands of wisdoms



This CPU once had blocking features

To not feel it all, throbbing

But the last upgrade

Advertised the removal of this feature

As a bonus


“Now including ancestral awareness”

I feel them









That I will finally see

That I will carry the essence, magick

The whole of the bloodline sparkle

Clear the misunderstandings

Heal the torn fibers

Alchemize the great and pulsing mass

Into the once true beauty of the well ones


No pressure, eh?

Perhaps it is only I that imagines

But regardless

I can feel the throbbing

I can feel the freezing

I can feel the increasing rate of blips

Occurring in my way of going about it all

I can feel

This circuit board failing

Heavy and pathways jagged

If only by my imagined load

But still it’s real

From the four to the five

And hopefully, eventually

To the six

The old ways of holding

Are breaking down


I’ve been here before

Oh, sacred Tower

Oh sacred Nigredo

I know the downward spiral

The unraveling to a new beginning

It used to cause great upheaval

It used to cause me to run

Sanity imploding

Holding onto to mere threadlines

Doing extreme things

To get something bigger to contain me

Not knowing what was happening

The institution was the only safe place

I can understand now

Why I, and many

Keep returning


But lately, although shaken

I no longer scurry

It’s almost routine

I feel it coming, know what’s happening

And a switch called surrender

A switch called opening

A switch called receiving and curiousity

And an especially helpful feature called



In the Great


Automatically it starts running

Holding me through

Holding me through


As this CPU falters

I realize the coming

Of the hand of a larger technician, replacing

I do my best

To settle back

To switch on the trust mode

Floating in that hollow unknown

As the new

And the old


Lifts and settles

One more time

To ready me

To carry

The thousand watt currents

Of the waiting

Ancient future



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It’s happening all around me

Left and right

Dates and clients

Poof! Into thin air

Groovin’ and smilin’

In the pocket

Supposed reflection in their orbs

And then, gone




Perhaps, it’s occurred

Over and over again

Without such conscious notice

But lately

It feels like all’s I gots’

Is ghosts


Perhaps, and most likely

A teaching

This repeated, multi-faced patterning

Trying to get me to see

Trying to get me to heal

The unattended ghosts

Of the past


Like that first one

I’m sure his eyes filled my babe core

His gaze, for a few months

Completing me

And then



No explanations

Silence all around it

Except the rumblings a young mind

And hollowed center

Can make




And then that man

Bustin’ onto my scene like a dream

Wolf in hand, care in heart

Blowing my mind with his Love

And shit, not long after

Bullet-penetrated aortas

Leaving me wondering

Leaving me wondering


The rumblings a young mind

And hollowed center

Can make



The pattern, oft repeated

But not until recently

Did I see

How I

Ghost me


How I leave my babies like he did

Thrilled with creation

Gazing at the outcome

But running


As fast as I can

From the inadequacy I feel

In bringing them babies to life


The fear, the overwhelm, the way they might tie me down

The terror that I might destroy them

The shame that I, clueless, feel unworthy to stay


And by their side


Granted, my babies take up

Memoir form

Bohemian caravan festival vending form

Self-owned business form

Poetry Anthology form

Musical album form

Grimoire form


But nevertheless

They’re babies

Creations once filling me with inspiration

Now left in some void floating


Wondering where I’ve gone


Such potential

They hoped for so much

To be supported

To be encouraged

To shine

Through the light and darkness

We’d face together on the path

They look at me, from a distance


Sorrow in their supposedly inanimate heart

Wondering what they did

And where I’ve gone

Do they feel

The buried rage

I’ve carried for so long?




I see it so clearly now

I leave my babies just like he did

Just like they do

I ghost



All these parts of me reflecting

Over and over until I see it right

Now that the mirror is clear

Now that I face the terror in me

Now that I feel, perhaps, what he felt

Now that I look at those babies, yearning

What’s left to do?

Keep ramblin’ on, chasing shineys?

I suppose this old blood could carry on down that road

But somehow

Although I’m hella respectful of the ghosts among the living

I think I’ll turn back

And face the panic of meeting their need


My ghosties



Chubby toes

Squirming in the tiny particles of dune

She giggles, warmed

Eyes raised to the

Shrill call of the overhead gull


Mother, at a distance yet here

Beneath and between these toes

She feels held

By the microcosmic worlds

Scratching between

Brushing over

A fair and childhood skin


Glancing, searching back

To uncertain ties

Her chubby toes take her forward

She the great adventurer

She amongst vast nature, calling


Coastal dune scrub

Sedge meadows

Salt grass flats

Iceplant figflesh squeezing between fingers

The large cement fortress, the castle

She smells, she tastes, she listens


She doesn’t know the names 

Of these beings

Of these worlds

Of the creepy crawlies working in the sands

She, an adventurer with chubby toes


She doesn’t know the bones

That lie beneath her

The fractured history 

Of peoples long forgotten

Or the quickly dissolving presence

Of lupine

And wallflower

Of bluebird

And perhaps, Cypress

She only touches, smells, hears

She only trusts


She doesn’t know

Its as if they will last forever

She, so small, cradled by their largeness

Ancient, pulsing, alive

She feels it all around her

And between 


She doesn’t know

She looks forward

To this ancient pulsing

To this web

Holding her

Being here


She doesn’t know

And she looks back towards her mama

That painful tie

And is grateful for this holding

Certain, generous, nourishing

She trusts

It will be here, forevermore


These chubby toes

Inside, grip the Shell avenue shag in fear

Alone and rocking

But here, outside

Her mama, soft and forgiving

This castle, mysterious

This ancient, pulsing 


Holding her



Chubby toes

Squirming in the tiny particles of dune

She giggles, warmed

Eyes raised

To the shrill call of the overhead gull

Mother, at a distance yet here

Beneath and between

These toes


If you prefer to hear this poem spoken out loud, join me here for a listen: https://anchor.fm/raven417/episodes/Toes-e1o38sa


Magical Child

She came into this world

Full of dreams

Fairies in the concrete

Spirits in the bog

Images on the screen encouraged her

Everything around her was alive


For her mother


Now that was a strange blip in the equation


Her mother

Was dead


Well, not really

She walked and talked and stuff

But the light

The light

Was gone


There was a hollow

Inside of her

Something even the most powerful wizard

Could not reach

But even this

Became part of the fairy tale

The sleeping dragon, the Dark Witch

For awhile

She made it all

Make sense


At decade’s crossing

Theta slowly fading

Suddenly the whole world became grey

The fairies retreated

The spirits, unable to compete

All grew quiet in that magical land


As if a veil was lifted…

Or perhaps, applied…


And she was left

With the cold reality

Of heaving

Bearing the grief, the suffering, the hopelessness

Of everything around her



It didn’t take long

For the child to grow sleepless

And searching


She found a portal

To make it all go away


A portal of daring

A portal of transcendence

A portal of rebellion

A portal of

Maybe if I just do this

I will see them

I will feel them again








Probing for a portal

Maybe I will see them again


This magical child

Born with dreams in her eyes



Doing whatever it took

To feel them, again

To be on that edge, again

To pierce into that world, again

To not have to carry, anymore


That magical child

She, with a fervor



If they said

It would kill her



Four hundred years later

The General appears

At first taken by her, giddy

He leaves gifts and poetry at her door


Not especially interested, but clarified

She nods kindly, shows him the gate

Her boundary

And sees him on his way


Yet she senses something coming

Murky tendrils weaving, invisible

As he looks back, a subtle leering

Rippling the quantum, rippling


She’s wondering

Whether to prepare or forget

Defense has long worn out its usefulness

She puts

Her sword down


Over time

The notes keep appearing

The gifts somehow making their way

Across the gate, the line


Cloaked in saccharine


She realizes the need

She stands at her doorstep

She waits for him

And when he appears

She looks into his dream-filled eyes

And draws out

Her blade


She clarifies

She slices through

The thick projective miasma

She points its tip at each stake

Of her picket

She calls him

To look


Woozy, smirking

His gaze wafts playfully


He sees it, eyes widening

This gate

As if for the first time

And realizes his slumber


Embarrassed, he steps back

And away

She remains


As his body pivots and strides

Fake confidence towards his city

This time the leer

Has turned cold

Something’s coming

She knows


Next morning sunshine

Greets her

A soft fur winding against her leg

And she walks to the gate, curious

Of the note tacked upon it

She pulls off the memo

And feels its searing

She drops it

Watching it fall to the cool earth


Crouching, wary

She reads the now dampening parchment

Not too surprised to see


Emblazoned upon it

And lengthy explanations

Of her wily ways

Of deceiving and be-spelling


Saddened, she knows him

This General’s story

Of tending his own Anima

Cruel and illusory

Suicidal and death dealing

His own loving

Entwined with the torture he served


This story, it keeps repeating

It is his, it is hers


She pierces the memo

The tip of her sword saves her

She brings the burning accusal

Walking, sword outstretched down the roadway

To a small clearing in the wood


Here a brook babbles

And hawks sing

And she sets a space

And she calls to the wise ones

And she gathers the waters

And she hums


Here, she immerses

The age-old fires

Of trauma, projection and cruel self-story

Into rock’s crevice, holding

Waters trickling from her hands, heart

Waters holding, cleansing for a better way

Washing her past, his

Tending the blood wounds seeking

Mouths hungry to be healed

She offers, she offers

Iron Goddess of Mercy

Iron Goddess of Mercy


She sits

And waits

Letting the sunlight peeking sparkle

Upon the cleansing pooltide

With the pain

And sorrow dissolving within

Knowing her hands, her mind

Indeed offer healing

To re-member

To re-story

To let the old die

To create space

For the new


Hawks circling

Cries piercing the air

Holding her

Sonic, salving the lineages

With their love

She knows not

What may come

Of the General

But dirt beneath her toes

And wind against her skin

She holds clearly

What she knows

She is




Slowly, like moon emerging from cloudy bank

They came

Circling, circling, circling me

In their Love

Out from weathered, beaten cold

The Badlands, wandering

Androgeny outcast always thought I’d be

Never had I known the medicine

Of sisters

Circling, circling, circling me

In their Love

A silent Love

A listening Love

A knowing Love

A sometimes screaming, dancing, howling Love

Here, no answers

Here, no fixing

Here, no labels

Here, in their Love

Tomboy, trying to make it alone

Whittled down, rascally

Trying…to become a man?

Connection never found

Odd one in the mosh pit

Odd one in the catty conversations



Finding home

Only in deep forests, outside

But here, in their Love

I was surprised to find

Human eyes holding me

How could eyes hold me?

To depths I’d never felt

With understanding I’d never felt


The power of deep Woman

Medicine holding me

Circling, circling, circling me

In their Love

In Her Love

To whatever conjured

Finding the Sisters


Sisters finding me

I am forever grateful

For their remembering

I am Woman

Circling, circling, circling


Deep forest

In Her Love


A Sense of Comfort, Pt. 2

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The warmth of sun


Sneaking leftover pastries of wealthy

Chocolate milky coffee silkness across tongue

Glass latte mug, smooth on palm

Bubbly effervescence ale

Clamoring dishes, hearty laughter

His hand on mine

His eyes on mine

His breath on neck

Darkness around me

Leathers and blacks and chains

Deep bass pulsing

Electric vibrations squealing

Bodies smashed and circling

Collective roaring, thousands

Viking hair brushing skin, ancestral

Dancing body, drunken

His kiss, in haze

Papers, goals, shuffling in fingers

The sound of pen scribbling

Kitten fur velvet on cheek

Fabrics variety, costuming skin

Sliding on identities

Rough taffeta, smooth polyester, heavy


Eyeliner tip on lid, transforming

Wine, astringency puckering and calming undefinable terrors

Neon shadows furry desert dances

Fishnet leg over lap

Sunrise rooftop afterglow

Tiny gelatin circumferences, azure and cream

Resting in shamed and methodical palm

Odorous vapors rising in dry heat of trail

California sage, Manzanita holding

Bright blue contrasting desert dust

These eye portals

Eggy brunches and green tea

Cool shade air under pine forest canopy

A place of purpose, embracing

Until there was none


Ancient drumbeat earskin

Elders voices tendrils re-minding

Diagnosis aura crumbling

Terror, excitement mingling

Sweaty bodies lodges, chanting

Kachina dreams




A Sense of Comfort, Part One

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Soft mound melting roof of mouth

Vanilla cream trickling throat

Chilled silver resting lip

Beastmaster and misty swaying pines

Electric green moss carpet beneath hand

Arranging mushrooms, leaves for tiny folk

Croaking of gulls at seashore

Lighthouse moans in fog

Fingers squishing anemone

Coffeemate crumbles dissolve across tongue

Kitty fur, purring

Closed bedroom doors, horror pages turning

Crisped edges salty potatoes

Glistening crackles lemon chicken pan

Forest nooks and fortresses, wild onion and sorrel crunching

Warm sun bakery window scone

Early morning farmer’s market bustle, auntie’s basket heavy

Echoing awe gregorian chant episcopal stained glass sunbeams

A quiet night, safety

Schoolwork structure, pencil scribbling

Strumming cardboard guitars, mommy’s black knee high boots

Vampire bites from neighbors

Mommy, sleeping, working

Mommy not screaming

Mommy not grieving

Mommy not drinking

Mommy not self-destructing

Weight watchers rules, measuring cups

Empty stomachs

Substitute psychiatric mothers

Concerns in eye

His kiss

The auric field of wolf protector

Gooey pancakes, assigned and accompanied

He who fights for me

His arms holding in sweaty roiling pit

Mildewy stone wood cabin shower

Marie Callender flaky pot pie crust, juicy chunks gravy

Walking, forever



Being forced to eat

White, bleached linens

White, bleached linens

White, bleached linens

Being sick enough

Low blood pressure readings, dizzy

Cafeteria coffee smells

Treatment team “not ready” declarations

Ensure, ice cubes bobbing, slowly straw slurping

Watered down amazingness hitting tongue

After crossing fasting abyss

Someone to take care of me

Someone to protect me

From Her

Feeling not alone with it

After so many years a parent-child


Veggie burger patty melted cheese

Cafeteria privileges, grown up coffee drinking

Crazy talks with other crazy birds

Twisted tribe

Worry in whitecoat eyes

Another admittance


For awhile

Not having to fight Her

For awhile


That this time’s the last


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Past the superficial engines

I went deeper

Into the central rooms of myself


I found ancient ritual

Thick tapestry lining walls

Humming, haze

Of handrolled sticks alight

And a baby in my arms


Nervous, unsure how to support

The young flesh absorbed into mine

As usual, skilled in simultaneous flight

Without memory

Of the secrets of their chantings

I wonder just what happened in that core

And what the digested matter

Is growing in me now


The crows in the distance

The snow beneath feet

Now I’m running


Old prisons abandoned

Now I’m rising

Requiring reality

A sippable sensuality

Beyond the programming’s pleasure


There I find her

Grown and reaching

She’s waving media

And dark vibrations

And asking for my guidance


Do I have the tools to raise her?

Nervous, unsure how to support

I take her hand

And we begin to walk


Into the question



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The face is in the flower

Bee-like, nestled

He says he takes his medicine this way too

Dangling, the seeds are descending

His hand

Lowers them

Towards the lips

Open, waiting

He says to eat them

A different way than past greed


The light is warm and tender

He is lowering


The mouth

The face is breathing


Fear of losing all control

These seeds ambrosia

The height they’ll offer

Warns of the fall


All these protectors

All these fighters

All these soldiers

Cry out


Do not eat the seeds

Oh precious mouth

Oh precious face

You cannot go there

We have been with you


For so long

And here you are, safe


The seeds are dangling

The head is swarming

The chaos is echoing

The terror is building

The skin is sweating

The boundaries, shaking


The light is warm and tender

The man

His Earth Pan beingness

Smiles, kindly

And waits

Holding the one

With the mouth

With the face

With the skin

With the chaos

That says no

But wants

So badly

To eat