Leaves toppling from trees fiery
leaves red yellow green flames. Only this
remains...smoky ends of days.
leaves red yellow green flames. Only this
remains...smoky ends of days.
Days like leaves crumbling, shriveled,
tumbling down, falling to the ground.
Scattered into an acrid mound.
tumbling down, falling to the ground.
Scattered into an acrid mound.
An acrid mound of sour roots. Our garden
was seeded from the wrong side of the moon.
Brackish vines will be harvested there.
was seeded from the wrong side of the moon.
Brackish vines will be harvested there.
Flowers of despair grew a single fruit.
It tasted bittersweet. My laughter became
harsh. My eyes grew oblique.
It tasted bittersweet. My laughter became
harsh. My eyes grew oblique.
I want to curse and cry against this world.
Fine dreams stolen...ragged and torn
like leaves blown in storm.
Fine dreams stolen...ragged and torn
like leaves blown in storm.
Storm winds strangle treetops, shaking,
foliage pulled from boughs. Broken
by thunder pummeled through long nights
foliage pulled from boughs. Broken
by thunder pummeled through long nights
Long nights heavy rains spilling black ink
stains. There is no solution, another day
done, another piece of the puzzle gone
stains. There is no solution, another day
done, another piece of the puzzle gone
Ashes ashes all fall down
what is lost can not be found.
what is lost can not be found.
The Search
We are the lost who have
climbed hillsides...gathering
innumerable and unnamed
stumbling over sharp rocks
searching for our long shadows.
climbed hillsides...gathering
innumerable and unnamed
stumbling over sharp rocks
searching for our long shadows.
Tracing darkness with
vagrant fingertips
tasting the disdain of dust
we are long shadows
moaning with open mouths.
vagrant fingertips
tasting the disdain of dust
we are long shadows
moaning with open mouths.
Eating bitter food grown
on the wrong side of this moon
our hearts caged in fear
fearing we have been cast off
fearing we have no destination.
Sands burning our feet
whipping our unnamed faces
we are long shadows crossing
this dessert longing for
an end to our thirst.
We are losing our shadows
entering empty caves
now listening for echoes
now finding wells of memories
innumerable and unnamed.
When the Moon Is New
If you touch Medusa
her serpents will wrap
themselves around you.
She soars through water
with giant wings gold fins.
Hundreds of snakes
crawling from her head.
her serpents will wrap
themselves around you.
She soars through water
with giant wings gold fins.
Hundreds of snakes
crawling from her head.
Some long to be near
Medusa to hear her hissing
lisping songs forgetful.
She can suck blood from
throats coiling minds
past infinity before
they breathe again.
Joan McNerney’s poetry has been included in numerous literary magazines such as Seven Circle Press, Dinner with the Muse, Blueline, 63 channels, Spectrum, and three Bright Spring Press Anthologies. She was recently nominated for "Best of the Net". Four of her books have been published by fine small literary presses.
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