love in space (30/30)

prompt: write a poem backwards

a love which grows us up
a world which holds us tender
all of existence is in the sweet you cannot swallow

heart, get soft and open
bone, yearn to be rock and ash
stardust, remember the bright
a planet lives off of these longings

love is the orbital swoon
the outpouring of self story
the dark hours of sparse words
the shimmer of such kisses
the wonder at another’s existence
the flash in the eyes

whispered into the womb
whispered into the dirt
it is the magic salve
love is the source of all life
love is not held between two

it is all
there it is
love

24-27/30, poems

catching up on poems.

home to e— 24/30

going off prompt to share queen aya’s first love poem of her second affair with e—

in the end
coming home was easier than departing
that was how i knew

she was hearth
i was unable to explain
or step away

i found the little bird
puffed out black chest
you have never seen such plumage
and fragility

i was holding her cupped in my palms
and then she had me
in careful talons
a million meters up
breathless, knowing only her name

she is a stranger still
made of years i have no reference for
in her eyes
in her hands
the exquisite now is enough

aya’s return 25/30

going off prompt to share e—‘s first love poem from her second affair with queen aya

the queen has returned to me
more accurately
none of her reasoning could keep her from me
none of her strategy

when i was delirious
she could be trusted with my blather
when i was coherent
she blushed at my sharp desire

people say she is a sort of goddess
but she is softer than that
no lightning, no arrows
she is more solid than that
she has the constant presence of a planet, or star
orbital, molten, bright

my armor piled in the corner
my footsteps brilliant with dust down her hall
i made it through her organized doubt
her thighs are open beneath the sheet

the vermillion moon sees 26/30

prompt: write a persona poem (a poem in the voice of someone else – mythical, historical, fictional, inanimate)

i know water and salt

wherever they move together
i come pulling

i tug obsidian round
and turn her away
our dance is forever

i am the first moon of blood

their taste was familiar to me
the first two barely spoke
for weeks they lay on the surface
a new home, but they only explored each other
conversations with closed mouths

in the silence of miracles
the other who came through them
belongs here
belongs to me

i lay her to sleep, rock her
bring her up to the surface just before dawn
so first light won’t startle her

i make her dream her hands are made
of shadows and sequin
the whole system whispers it
‘she is obsidian’s child’

the humans don’t know
obsidian heard them coming
and became a home for their love

i watched her choose her textures
adjust her orbit to match their rhythms
become irresistible

she fell in love with them
so alive
in the heavy quiet of space

the humans don’t know
their first child is not only of women
but half planet
veins full of stardust

aya and e— lay down and talk 27/30

write a hay(na)ku, a variation on a haiku. write a single three line stanza, or string them together.

a single piece of papyrus, passed back and forth in a planetary collective meeting between the reunited queens.

lover
the child
is she well?
beloved
she’s impossible
and so joyful

heart
tell me
do you remember?
slowly
tender moments
return to me

witchcraft
your touch
has not changed
perhaps
my heart
can not change

baya
her skin
is growing dark
daughter
our alien
she is home

lover
can we
twin the miracle
beloved
hold me
i have millions

two of keys (23/30)

prompt: take a chance, literally. Find a deck of cards (I used thecollective tarot), shuffle it, and take a card – any card! Make a poem from it.

from the manual on memory displacement, in the obsidian guide witchcraft and medicine files

there is no way to remove a memory
…yes sure from the mind
but so far, in our experiments, the heart cannot forget love or grief

these memories can only be displaced
locked deeper in the heart
than the present moment

it takes two keys to lock the memories away
one belongs to the memories’ owner
the other to the master witch

trust your witch
even a master can be a fool

addendum:
so long as the master witch lives
the memories can be recovered

but the process is violent
to the tender system
and can never be repeated

when the memories return
they take the center of the heart
for a year or more
before integration

when the memories return
all that wholeness can overwhelm
a halved heart

Redacted (21/30)

Our prompt for today (optional, as always) is an old favorite – the erasure! This involves taking a pre-existing text and blacking out or erasing words, while leaving the placement of the remaining words intact.

dear e—
after everything,
don’t take me back.
the memories I lost
say we shouldn’t

every day I am thinking of constant of my life
the miracle of baya. us.

my system lights up
kinder, my flesh more pleasurable

another chance.
you would give memories
give us a chance

told that we loved each other,
we’d only know joy
give baya
loyalty

Or maybe we forward
You with half
me with our future

take time
from the heart.
I beg you
consider me, anew, again

yours,
Aya

(from)

Dear E—
I understand if, after everything, you don’t want to take me back. Perhaps the memories I lost were the ones which say we shouldn’t be together. But I can’t pretend every day that I am not thinking of you the constant of my life. It isn’t only the miracle of baya between us. It is the way my system lights up in your presence. I feel kinder, smarter, better, my flesh more pleasurable. I want another chance.
I thought if you would give up your memories that might give us a real chance. If we both gave them up again, and we’re told only that we loved each other, I think we’d only know joy for the rest of our days. Perhaps give baya a sibling to devote their loyalty to…
Or maybe we move forward in this way? You with half our lives, me with only our future?
I write this so you can take your time to respond, respond from the heart. I beg you to consider me, anew, again.
Still yours,
Queen Aya

baya sings (19/30)

prompt: write a landay. Landays are 22-syllable couplets, generally rhyming. The form comes from Afghanistan, where women often use it in verses that range from the sly and humorous to the deeply sardonic and melancholy…a form of poetry often composed in secret, and rarely written down.

my mother says i am all sacred
she whispers this into the blanket that holds me warm

my mother loves the sound of my voice
she follows me with her eyes while i dance in the dust

she tells me that she loves only me
but i see her watch my mother in the field with awe

she says that i am a miracle
but i think the magic is her love which made my life

she begs the gods of obsidian,
whom she created, to carry my heart in their mouths

i’m not afraid of my mothers’ love
emotion overflows memory, fhangda bursts the shell

there is no tomorrow (18/30)

Prompt: And now for our (as always, optional) prompt, which takes us from 2015 back to the 1700s. After all, it’s the eighteenth of April, which means that today is the 240th anniversary of the midnight ride of Paul Revere! Today, in keeping with the theme of rush and warning, I challenge you to write a poem that involves an urgent journey and an important message. It could historical, mythical, entirely fictional, or memoir-ical.

queen aya writes by the sick bed after queen e— begins to heal.

the only journey
on this small planet
with this intimate horizon
is from life
up to the edge of death
to the place where we think
there is no tomorrow
and the journey from that moment
to dawn

the journey happened
when i loosed baya from my body
and my blood
my heart
wanted to go with her

that journey happened
when i knew e— could
no longer hear me
and i wanted to crawl
through the dark corridors of her
to tell her of home

i needed no why
it was the only way

the sun comes from those two faces
mirrors of light
all that i will ever be
my only tomorrows

counter lesson on currency (8/30)

write a palinode. And what’s that? It’s a poem in which the poet retracts a statement made in an earlier poem.

    counter lesson on currency

yesterday
queen aya taught you
‘when we came here,
we left behind
systems of getting
without doing’

which is not precise
but you cannot pinpoint
those who forsake memory
and live only in afterglow

the first currency of this planet was favor,
the first value love

the founding queens
played creation games
with each other
everything you see now
results from their vigorous
winning and losing

the first planetians to find here
looked to aya’s glittery smile
after each dusty task

she only saw e—,
and did not notice us

she held seed bursting ideals,
and we held her,
myth and magic…
stories and misquotations

it was never enough to
simply exist, to revel in the
abundance of our miraculous lives

we had to also be marvelous
fantastic and fascinating
complex, kind and mysterious
stunning as the pallique sea

then she would feed you
everything

the first ones to die here
were simply dull stardust
hard workers with no brilliance
they never caught her eye
they withered, reaching for her
she was ignorant
always shifting the center
always in motion

it shamed her to devastation
when she realized what was happening
when she knew that in spite of her pretty thinking
she was money dirty

that currency of attention,
so hard to trace
is why the queen wears the
moonshade veil
so that we understand the cost of immeasurable beauty
and are fair with praise
and always look for the light

aya and e— speak of emotion (4/30)

day 4 prompt: I challenge you to write a “loveless” love poem. Don’t use the word love! And avoid the flowers and rainbows.

aya and e— speak of emotion

you taste like metal and fire.
i claim you as my blood moon
my favorite of the rare phenomena,
brief and breathless.

you do worse than that, queen.
you dismiss the shadows
til i’m a foolish orbit
i feel so small and imperfect in all that light

gift me darkness

no, that’s a different season, night
here, now
i can only offer you me, selfish and swollen –

but that’s precisely what i mean
it’s that you swallow me up
and i would actually live inside of you
on whatever world you go to

(laughing) but then i couldn’t see you
obsidian, sharp, bright, gorgeous…
anyway, there’s only the world we make.

hold me closer. cover my eyes with your hair.

i’m already dreaming of you tonight.
tomorrow we should turn the field.

tomorrow we should make the map
organize the pantry

and see about the water
and talk with more of the ghosts

yes. we can do all things, or no things.
it’s all exquisite. do you feel that vastness?

this vastness. this this this.

if we are quiet, we can live here forever

that’s what i mean, precisely.
you, you are the forever i always wanted.

e— recalls creating (3/30)

day 3 prompt: write a fourteener. fourteeners can be have any number of lines, but each line should have fourteen syllables

e— journal entry 3/26/R1259

we are building a home we know from dreams and the darkness
it isn’t wood, but it lives, it grows and it knows our names
we whisper up walls which glow when the light is near fading
we learn, forget all the borders and lies we were raised in

aya is a warm stone huddled inside my healing womb
i ask the sacrifice of the fleshed up m’xjulls, feed us
we lay on the shifting floor sucking meat from our fingers
she says we could never be lost, dull, lonely or easy

she laughs when i call her queen, mounts the throne for my pleasure
we are so deeply alone, but i don’t miss the others
she sings me songs that she plucks fully formed from her memories
if the new world is in us, i can hush and be hopeful

aya’s own stars (2/30)

today’s prompt: take your gaze upward, and write a poem about the stars.

……

e— wore the grav belt
even when they were alone
on a field like shards of silver
her back gentle and solid
on the bright dirt

even when aya was naked
floating just above the planet’s surface
the whole three hours of night.
aya would let e— shape her against the darkness,
making of her arms and legs and mane
new constellations

‘but now i’m just orion!’
aya would eventually protest,
done with the game,
reducing e—‘s flesh art
to belt, four corners, phallus,
just to feel something familiar on her tongue

e— would pull aya down through the air
into kisses that sent aya’s toes towards ocha (the vermilion moon)

saying,
‘and from here, from the back, orion could be anyone we say she is.’

meaning,
‘i am your only familiar.’