Talkeetna performance poet Ellen Thea reads three of her short poems.
At midnight, by the river,
in the city
she put on her wild shoes
to journey forth.
She, disguised as a declaration of her true self,
this blue moon halloween,
gifted some times once upon a lifetime.
Her doorway is her shrine.
Moonstone gold and crystal wand
incandesces her body’s flame.
Dancing trees whisper secrets through the night breeze.
Her ears decipher the song,
she feels skyclad and ancient,
tendril wind wilds her hair,
riding her broomstick of lunar kundalini.
Queen Wisdom speaks,
“Keeper of the Blue Fire,
tend your hearth well.”
The silent guardian meditates at the gate.
Schroedinger’s Cat
He’s a sly one he is,
the best there is….
or isn’t.
The Existence of Mayflies
Someone told me once
it’s like the DMV.
You get a number.
You wait to be called.
You don’t want to cut this line.
