The Goddess in spite of herself

by Tannen Dell

She was crafted with eyes
like sapphire galaxies
plucked from the shim'ring
pedestals of the seven,
polished by the electric
gravity of her smile.

Her quintessence
is not beautiful
No
It is the point of origin
Of a thousand fuchsia
snowflakes
Ground together
By the ever locking,
wound up pellucid
atmospheres her cortex
Constructed as a sort of mask,
a net to keep out the many
and allow a concentrated
Few
vivified Eagle Novas
within her multiplicative solitude

And here I hover
A humming phoenix
My second to last evolution
I'll whisper my forked tongue
Through her attention
Press my haphazard fangs
To the collar of her cloak
And glide the fiery feathers
in my claws
across her shadow.
Sand turns to molten glass

The seven tell me,
they tell me to try
they say to "fight for it."
Ignore the cold
that will encompass
the alpha and omega
of all things as I
make this
 final
sojourn
to the origins
of her sapphire eyes.

In Place

by Tannen Dell

When life is one big moral debate between what you want and what you must not have…when a contract socially pins down your freedom of desire, a fire starts, the worst part of all is how cold this flame tongue is, how every breath is oxygen to build it. This is the point that drives all to cryptic hope, anger, depression and linguistic suicide. I freeze in the core furnace, I bleed these thick blue flames, I inhale carbon, I die until my heart starts beating.

First Time

by Tannen Dell

First Time
Acceleration
Brings thunder
through my veins

I cant push a beach
through an hourglass
And you cant
Tell me to slow down.