Tags
cat girl, crone, female blacksmith, gypsy butcher, Harmaa, is all i have, Krig Haxa, maiden, mother, Navalha, Nuu-Nuu, sonnet, synth-blood, war witch
my grandmother blacksmith in her workshop
Why pray to the gods when nothing is spared
before faithless thorns? little pricks? That itch
none can scratch, save my Harmaa, the gray-haired
blacksmith, who forged Krig Haxa, the War Witch,
for me. I learned my trade from a gypsy
butcher, Navalha. I keep my heart-stone
with a cat-girl named Nuu-Nuu (a cutey-
cutey war machine) Now you know the Crone,
Mother and Maid I share my synth-blood with.
For blood, even in a white-boy machine,
is all I have. I’m a very pale male.
Keep faith for me, my dear Mama Blacksmith
and my Na, who cuts rot from the bone clean,
and my chrome Nuu, with her cat-ears and tail.
memories of my ghost sista 
Been missing your words. Out two days with some tropical scuz that took part of a toe and a finger, and filled my head with Jell-O, or similar…everything sounds like I’m underwater. And, missed my doc for meds to calm the bones in my back I broke diving in Mexico. Got on course today…backreading…aching to write…and Philosopher Red is rampaging through my head like a flash mob. Must write…
Later…
wait-wait, forgive me for focusing in on only one aspect of your letter, but did you mean to say you lost a toe and a finger over the weekend?! i do hope i misread that part! you know, if you ever need to get hold of me when i’m away from my blog, please feel free to email me: 3rd.coast.erotic [at] gmail.com … it is always good to hear from you =)
Open wound, infection, part of toe and bit of finger turned to mush, hardened, then scuffed off. Nothng big…got a few more of each.
Later…
“turned to mush” he says. i just got creep-out shivers down my arms simply thinking about that. i am amazed you did not go screaming into the street, because that’s what i would do. did all of this happen suddenly?
Over a wek, maybe. Wandering through the jungle…got a stab wound from some plant in my leg that i was more worried about. Got sufata de morphina for the broken bones in my back, though, so all is well. U.S. wouldn’t fix me, so go south…and stay out of the jungle at night.
Later…
That is tragic, my friend! I am so very sorry to hear that. Is there anything you need state-side I might be able to offer? (besides, you know, competent doctors who would be willing to help, those are a little harder to send in the mail)
I’m good. I live in a civilized country where doctors make house calls, listen to patients, don’t push the fashionable drug of the week, and don’t impoverish us peasants so they can golf in the Bahamas with their receptionists. Weird World.
Later…
Simply HATE to admit it, but your work is above my intellect. I know I am missing out on some real gems here !
Regards,
No, I wouldn’t say that, my friend. You know, the strength of a sonnet is that you only get 14 lines to say what you have to say so you better be to the point and clear. But not all ideas that go into making a poem can fit into 14 lines, sometimes they deserve free verse so they can flow and grow and spread their wings if they want to. This is one of those poems, I think, that at the time seemed to want to be a sonnet, but by the time I was done felt … constrained. I like writing on blogs because the feedback I get is almost always right on and to the point. I never want to be confusing when I can be clear and if someone is confused by a poem then that’s a good sign the poem isn’t ready for prime time, as it were. So, thank you and I will go back and see what else the poem wants to say. Cheers!
It’s not that, I am sure. Just the knowledge that reflects through is to a point of high wisdom. I have been trying to keep up. Eventually, I am sure I will be able to follow up to the height of the thoughts portrayed in your work 🙂 And fingers crossed, that day comes soon because I sure do miss commenting on the words you put and the knowledge I gain in its wake 🙂
Regards,
… and I gain too! I adore a good conversation about poetry that gets me thinking. Who needs coffee in the morning when you have inquisitive friends who have interesting ways of seeing the world? That is something you can’t buy or find in a book. You’re there, my friend, I am just happy you share your thoughts and poetry.