Category Archives: from the heather garden

The cut (edit 1)

See here, on my palm: a still-bloodied cut where a falcon’s talon grazed my hand. He’s off to look for prey. Never jessed,  he sits by me, or sometimes on my arm, turning side-to-side. Alert to motion, he goes to feed in moon-lit worlds. … Continue reading

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The cut (original)

See here, on my cloud-shadowed palm, a still-bloodied cut, where my falcon’s talon grazed my hand? He’s off to look for prey. Never jessed, he sits by me, or, sometimes, on my arm, turning side-to-side, eyes unbound, alert to motion dark in the pale desert. … Continue reading

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The value of dissolution, part 2 (edit 1)

Chhoti Bahu, she of the biggest eyes and motion most honey-like, begs you to stay. Here is she: bound by your space, still at your whimsy, her desire ‘broidered and enfolded in silk, now softened to the lateral by draughts … Continue reading

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The value of dissolution, part 2

Chhoti Bahu, big-eyed, liquid-limbed, held by inner-space, broidered and decorated, sharaab-hazed, throwing petals: what could be more gentle? He flinches, even so. Are the roses carved from flint? Does he hear her song loud, an acid vibration in his ears? … Continue reading

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