When great conjunct great;
When you meet me at the equinox, I’ll telephone but it won’t matter.
When I can stay as long as you want, but 6 o’clock will do.
When it’s just coffee, not a surrender.
When I spent a love afternoon with a darling friend, in between the stoplights,
and great conjunct great.
Category Archives: poetry
Shots Fired
when: can you imagine?
me giggling at the goofies firing
they blanks; me snapping shots
of Jupiter, healing and snuggling;
watching antics on the river and reading parable;
when the times bring a processional
of fatherly silence and his shell.
we both write poems, though,
and i’ll run the process down anew beating path.
King Already
when it’s Rulership all
around, when it’s time already, align
all ready; when before enlightenment: carry water, chop wood;
when after enlightenment: carry water, chop wood
beautiful blushing bbs trawling
the poem of the deep song
0º sign o’ the scales
∞ ∞ ∞
when you find the dice rolling already, when the ads are out and the old
familiar melody is naïve and here, when the hermit comes with rolling
punches and giggles and a yowling cat, when the bench is empty and Justice
is now written in the stars, when it’s roses • roses • roses • roses • roses • ros
∞ ∞ ∞
Bagheera Chamomile
when it comes time to purify and a sister surprise
rolls in the joy, swells the tide of relief;
when it’s time to get right and take care. take care, mon bear
Take care ❤
rest in power
when it’s so many beings gone in the dark and more new ancestors permeating, when it’s always a good time to remember: ‘you can’t wear a crown with your head down‘; when over here healing generations; when it’s time for a red velvet radio redux methinks, children
Real Hot Girl skit
(after Megan Thee Stallion)
When the threads become a lace-up and you’d love to discuss and it’s heretic season and the poles agree; when the regnant’s aesthetic is waifu and
––IT’S MY TURN!
––You wish! Imma bouta beat your high score!
––As if!
it’s ok to feel good
when i love you so much, when we’re all in it together, when we allow the sun to shine
Photo by Madison Inouye on Pexels.com
on our sex and feast and joy like a rolling wave of grâce à; when gifts on gifts on giftssss so you dance and dance again your sing. now, get your back off the wall!!! the flowers are twerking. And this is The Last Dance.
IMMA PERSEPHONE RISING / 1118
For when you have a Randy Marsh Burger with some tegridy stank sauce on it at the wurlitzer jukebox diner; where candles proliferate, effluent, fountainous. Say hi to the corn stalks, the geese sirens, the electrical howl.
GREEN TEA GANGGANG / 10181118
If you’re in a henley at your desk, hourglass going, and fresh off of doing some dishes, 7:45pm, saturday night.
kate carsella 