gia civerolo

 

zodiac pick up line *pomo haiku

 

 

He slithered over.

 

 

“What’s your sign baby?” Red lips

 

 

sighed “It’s a stop sign.”

chasing the night

 

Tangled white sheets                   10:35pm

She can’t sleep

 

Tangled thoughts                         11:07pm

Says a prayer please

 

Tangled hair                                12:22am

Gets out of bed

 

Tangled words scraping                1:28am

Goes to the window where

 

Star light etched together              2:04am

Exploding with energy

 

Connecting all                              3:45am

Mesmerized 

 

Still can’t sleep                             4:15am

Watches the               

 

Tangles white dawn                      5:29am

Chases the night    

Hedy Habra

Or Who Would Have Expected Us To Leave That Way?

            After The Juggler by Remedios Varo

 

We decided to skip the afternoon bus ride

and sneak out through the convent’s main gate

guarded by the twin Sisters.

 

As soon as the hunchback nun turned around

to answer her stuttering twin’s call from inside

the parlor, we jumped in unison

 

out the first floor’s half-opened window.

We barely caught our breath till we reached

the town square.

 

We knew we couldn’t remain unnoticed for long

in our gray uniform. At the sight of the juggler,

we stood, mesmerized.

 

His hands handled fiery balls in elliptical

trajectories bringing forth the movement

of stars and constellations.

 

The same energy flowed through our body

as we held hands tightly as though a single

cape enveloped us.

 

 

First published by The High Window

From Or Did You Ever See The Other Side? (Press 53 2023)

 

 

Riding the Winged Tricycle

When Saturn’s three crescent moons enter

their wild dance, I see myself riding

the winged tricycle of my youth towards

an open nave that grows into a caravel

flaunting my winged effigy on its prow,

a figurehead that appears as the centerpiece

of a gilded triptych while concentric dark

brushstrokes around my wide-open eyes

 

convert me into a revered icon, glowing

crescents hover above my head, halos

inscribed within the alignment of Orion’s

three stars, ominous signs tell me that age

is but an illusion, that I can ride that small

bike, soar, heady with my childhood

dreams, dizzy with the illusion that past,

present and future come together at once.

 

 

First published by Anima Methodi Anthology
From The Taste of the Earth (Press 53 2019)

 

Waiting in a Field of Melted Honey

 

I am waiting in a field of melted honey, hiding behind a blue tree that is not really a tree, a root Vincent chose to paint as a tree, you know, the painting where roots are the size of trees, gnarled trees with severed limbs, sterile against the golden field swaying, the tall grass bending, and of course no one can tell, but l feel the wind too, swelling my blue-flowered dress, you won’t see none of it, for I am behind the huge roots that look like trees and you can only feel the wind in the brush strokes.  You will mistake my dress bulging on the side for a knot as if I were a distortion of the oversized joints, leaning against the bark as if against one of his fingers, my space so restricted I can barely move. 

The master knows I am waiting for him, eyes filled with the beauty pouring from his vision.  I know he will take these roots and me with them, trees growing into rising clouds at nightfall, and he will show me the city lights everything around us becoming waves of light.  When he remembers me, the tip of his brush releasing me, I will tell him how hot it was behind the root that was like a tree, how the bright rays made me dizzy.  He will take me into his brush, cool me down with linseed oil and in another field show me the evening sky. I come to life again, but no one knows I'm here, the gold of my hair, the blue of my dress broken into lines, narrow paths of color spiraling among the stars on a warm blue night, the moon and the sun becoming one and I and him, the field and the sky circling endlessly.  I feel the ripples of the wind, the ocean's foam, my dress flows domelike, its flowers brighter and brighter, I am everywhere, hear our voices and you now understand what lies in each swirl, your life, mine, his, together in the dance of the stars.

 

First published by Puerto del Sol

From Tea in Heliopolis (Press 53 2013)

R A Ruadh

Gemini

We me I

am duality

facing inwards

facing outwards

always at odds with

my selves dancing

tangos of entangled

tempests and temperance

nights and days unending

with never a dusk or dawn

to ease my transitions

I have spun a molten core

a spinning self of stability

a focus where I can look

out and in without

being an endless mirror

and my contradictions

cleave together

in my own

image

s

Jeffry Jensen

Coloring the Day

It started early in the astrological cycle

Before anything had blended into form

I reached toward a vulnerable calling card

This was going to lead somewhere revelatory

This enterprise was all spiritual horns and no body

I found the brightness flowing around me

And a sweet butterscotch coloring building

A parade of passing retrospective artifacts

Grabbing at blueprints of the universe

Curly handwritten mood swings smear the auburn sky

There is a circular unzipping of theatrical confusion

From fingerprints to forensics adorn the horizon

I flatten the tone bursting with zodiac referrals

Energy bursting from the creases in my heritage

No random groan without being triumphant on all fronts

I glance up just in time to marry Mars to my uncharted laugh

PJ Swift

Things fell apart

Things fell apart, already

so very long ago

somewhat

and yet, here we spin

around each other

held, by indisputable force

We shift like a giant zodiac across the sky

a pixelated impression

of our fingers stretched

to touch, connect, collide,

but drifting yet again

disappearing into the heavens

not to dissolve, dissipate or fade away

but to return

but to spin, and reach and stretch,

and fall apart, again

already

The first trillionaire

The world's first trillionaire could afford any whim that crossed his fancy.  Though he had a stable of partners and lovers, there was one who especially captured his fancy.  To display the vast depths of his affection, the trillionaire commissioned the creation of a constellation of satellites shaped like a massive heart. This enormous glowing heart, made of a thousand bright satellites twinkling across the heavens would be his forever legacy to his love (as well as an undisputed victory for his ego.).  But there were miscalculations in implementing the plan.   Yes, the satellites were successfully launched and placed in the position of a heart.  The problem was the angle from which they were viewed.   For a brief moment, in the middle of the night, when viewed from Earth, the constellation did look like a perfectly shaped heart.  But as the constellation appeared and later disappeared, viewed from a side angle, it looked like a giant middle finger -- which was exactly how the Earth's inhabitants felt about the world's first trillionaire.   

Dream archive

We arrive at the nearby star cluster to visit its illustrious archive, a construction so colossal that it dwarfs anything conceivable on Earth. We wander through a tiny fraction of its millions of stories, each floor a labyrinth of seemingly endless hallways of seemingly endless length. We are not here for any particular research; we are simply in awe of this comprehensive catalogue that stores every human dream ever dreamt. Each day and night, the archive expands a considerable extent.

I approach an administrator and ask if the archive has sufficient space for all these dreams and all future ones as well.  They assure me that this star cluster, far larger than our solar system, has an almost unimaginable storage capacity. But then they add something unexpected: despite its immense size, the archive is not vast enough to contain the unrealized dreams of even one person on Earth. One thing that all this cataloging has ascertained is that nothing in the universe has that capacity.

Robert Fleming

Jupiter and Minerva’s understudies

a raven releases a republic

a monarch butterfly releases a monarchy

Augustus emperor’s jovial justice

the monarch rests on a prune tree

 

a monarch releases a monarchy

Livia and Augustus marry

a butterfly rests on a prune tree

Livia’s son Tiberius learns the army

 

Livia and Augustus marry

Augustus rules, youth high spirits, not treason!

Tiberius legions the army

Augustus executes only with reason

 

Augustus rules, spirits, not treason!

Livia self-claims Tiberius will be emperor

Augustus still has reason

Tiberius his way is war

 

Livia must be mother of the emperor

Julius Caesar's spirit revenges the senate

Tiberius mother’s boy is war

Julius Caesar the menace

 

Bacchus’ spirits imbibe the senate

Augustus’ proclaims laughter

Julius Caesar understudies Dennis

Livia prepares poison disaster

 

Augustus’ is laughter

the players are tainted

Livia pantry’s poison disaster

figs are poison painted

 

the marriage is fated

Livia pyrrhics a poison jig

figs are poison painted

Augustus picks garden figs 

 

Livia pyrrhics a poison jig

Rome’s republic is conqueror

Augustus eats garden figs

Tiberius is emperor

 

Rome’s monarch is conqueror

Livia wears blue olives

Tiberius is emperor

Livia replaces the Minerva goddess

 

Livia’s skin is olive

Jupiter center-stages the public

Livia replaces Minerva goddess

a raven butterfly releases Rome’s monarch republic

Joe Grieco

THAT PRICK BUKOWSKI

 

That prick Bukowski

We’re at Cole’s, drinking Schlitz long necks, smoking, at the bar

He’s reading the Herald-Examiner out loud

Yelling at parts

When he says to me, Did you see your horoscope today? He starts reading

           

            The stars are pearls that give back to the body

            What was lost

            In your Zodiac meltdown

            A necklace of planets, a stellium really, forming now in your favor

            Don’t drag along the cockeyed pieces that screwed you in the past

            Just swim in the energy that sets you free

            The heartwarming waters

            Pry open your soul

            Quit your job

            Search for someone who can stand you

 

Which I did

And years later he told me he made the whole thing up

That prick Bukowski

Mark A Fisher

physics says

work transfers energy

from one place to another

power is the amount of work

done over time

while my bones know

too much energy

gets transferred to work

and power flows upward

away from me

across some distance

accelerating

due to forces

felt but unseen

and all the tangible

relativistic masses

collapse into

singularities

no longer able

to do work

until the Hawking

radiation

leaches

away

their

power

Precession of Equinoxes

the sun in its great circle

runs rings around the sky

in a 360 we inherited from Babylon

Aries♈ Taurus♉ Gemini♊

once held the sun in spring

though the sky is no clock

and the earth wobbles

as skies change in seasons

too long for us to know

Cancer♋ Leo♌ Virgo♍

drift away past the summer

while distant futures

will have forgotten

all our mountains and seas

“boundless and bare”

Libra♎ Scorpio♏ Sagittarius♐

scatter like leaves in  autumn

yet other eyes tell other tales

of creatures out of myth

to fill their sky with stories

while our own

Capricorn♑ Aquarius♒ Pisces♓

blow away like ashes in winter

Alicia Viguer-Espert

Cosmic Questions

 

I return from the cosmic excursion

of the first pictures from the Webb Telescope

to declare them beautiful, mysterious and

also, that I’m not ready to travel any further.

 

Though dark spaces call me in

I’m afraid to dive into uncharted depths

thick with nothingness stretching into

a vastness ocean like when we swam

under a full moon, in waters slick like oil.

 

We folded our legs to avoid octopus,

and when kelp wrapped around our legs

we screamed in terror at the unknown.

I cannot recognize empty spaces

 

of blackness as anything I’d wish

to explore, even when hidden scientists

tethered to earth inspect silver screens,

enthusiasm oozing through their foreheads,

holding data more sacred than God.

 

In meditation the mind expands through

those territories; the cosmic ones belong

to spirit and the spirit reflects the cosmic

lands which embrace all that it exists.

 

Then, why this fright about infinity?

from where does this quivering emerge?

this panic of death, dread of suffering,

cold sweat felt when losing loved ones?

I peek at more familiar views of Orion,

 

La Vía Láctea from which the gravity

of our problems dissolves like sugar

in a cup of coffee, nothing weights,

or means anything, only eternal light

from the soul carries significance.

 

 

 

Cosmic Distances

 

Rough tongues from pine cones

spoke to me in tongues, what else?

Not belonging to the Congregation

I could not understand a word.

 

Our tongues stopped communion,

dried out like old fallen cones,

making impossible to comprehend

the liturgy of our sacred ceremonies.

 

It’s been a while since you’ve been home.

that casa whose walls we painted

the color of bread and butter,

potted geraniums never bloomed,

and garden’s lizards not only ate

insects but all tender greens. 

 

My most precious treasure, the orange tree

I imported from Spain, died suddenly

five minutes after your announcement.

If that wasn’t enough, yesterday the rain

soaked the carton boxes where I kept

your letters and 20 folded love poems.

 

Clouds, tea leaves, a gypsy palm reader

foretold the death of our potted garden.

Like planets held in place by gravity,

the universe conspires to keep us apart,

nevertheless, we’re always aware

of the proximity of our orbits, mostly

to prevent a heavenly collision.

 

Shih-Fang Wang

Zodiac Curse

 

She met him in her college year

Fascinated by a painting in an art show

She did not even notice

The artist was standing behind her

Her admiration for his talent

Was met with his for her beauty

 

They common interest in art

Brought them together

At his graduation

He proposed to her

She happily accepted

 

But their commitment

Was challenged by

The disapproval of parents

From both sides

Owing to the conflict

Of their Chinese zodiac signs

 

His tiger and her snake

Were not just incompatible

According to folklore

It could be a curse

If they get married 

 

She had never been so bold

Defying her parents’ order

And decided to elope with him

 

They ran away from their hometown

To live in a foreign land

After few years of hardship

Their parents finally accepted them

When their baby was born

 

Half century has passed

They are still happily married

True love wins over superstition

This is the story of my aunt

 

CLS Sandoval

Clichés You Want

 

If I had the money, I would buy you

The house, the car, the things

You want

 

If I had the energy, I would make you

The meals, the home, the babies,

You want

 

If I had the time, I would give you,

My attention, my body, my ideas,

You want.

 

If I had the freedom,

I would share with you,

My pleasure my pain, my desire,

You want.

 

Alas, all I possess are these clichés,

And this longing,

That I am not to fulfill.

Ode to Free Verse

 

I only write free verse, sure limits me

They say I must challenge myself some

But in my mind though, it does set me free

Poetry reminds me where I’m from

It helps me remember how far I’ve come

Runs through my veins with energy to spare

More than anything shows me how to care

On lonely nights shows me I’m not alone

During thunderstorms brings weather that’s fair

Coos sputters and sometimes will even moan

Sometimes will come on like a sudden sneeze

Other times soothes more like a nice warm breeze

 

Theory Unveiled (My Implicit Claim)

 

Jest of quandary over possibility; curious implications,

Uninhibited by past or thoughts of termination,

Smile overtakes my face, direct impact from your presence,

Turn from pragmatic action to existential thought,

In your gaze, encapsulated, no interval between,

No other place to be; no other in my heart.

 

Crescent moon overtaken by our spark,

Resting in serenity, passion simultaneously ignited within,

Each twilight, wrapped in your musical essence,

Slowly awakened each dawn gently by sunlight rays,

So tangible, so real, yet we have not ever touched.

 

Introspective projection is the sole satiation I possess,

Summation of this quest becomes warranted objective.

 

Budding possibilities promise tranquil springs of heaven,

Energy engaging aura previously untouched,

Allure spills from each of your glances, words, movements,

Unable to resist, yet confined to constructs many,

Thoughts of forbidden, restriction to metaphor, leads us…

Interruption of stoic, inert, status quo,

Fulfilled for this moment, content presently,

Uncanny wit and audacity become our victories,

Leave you be, I cannot, save that it be your request.

 

Dean Okamura

 

Meditations of Capricorn

Young Capricorn:

Let me voice my prayer
without invoking higher powers.
My plea is not sacred,
not seeking alms or blessings.
Stripped of ritual veneer,
laid bare. My yearning,
unclothed, unadorned,
clear as Aquarius’ dawn,
sweeps the shadows
of my worldly heart,
underneath a night
of shooting stars.

 

Old Capricorn: [1]

Let me voice my prayer
without invoking higher powers.
My plea is not sacred,
not seeking alms or blessings.
Stripped of ritual veneer,
laid bare. My yearning,
unclothed, unadorned,
clear as Aquarius’ dawn,
sweeps the shadows
of my worldly heart,
now worn and weary,
after a lifetime of service.

 

The weight of years,
burdens carried long,
presses upon my shoulders,
once broad and stalwart,
now bowed and faltering.
Memories flickering
like fading, distant stars.

 

I've navigated tumultuous seas
of public acclaim and scrutiny,
weathered storms of doubt,
and basked in fleeing rays
of triumph and acclaim.
But now, twilight deepens,
underneath a night
of shooting stars.

---

[1] Italics added by speech writers

The light is amazing

Open the window,
Let in the light.
Maybe we don't pray enough,
Or not even at all.
Whether we believe,
Or not,
We seek the greater lights.

 

The light struggles to change our minds.
We assume we know the answers.
Which may be true, but all
Sense of proportion, fairness has sunk.

 

I consume the sun's energy
Contained in plants.
Their energy merges with my energy.

 

Open the door,
Let the light wash your soul,
My soul.
The answers are all around us.

 

If only we could shine.

 

To push us

There is something to learn from
          the elderly man
                    walking with a cane,
in the slow pace
the quiet determination.

 

He moves untied to the energy of
          his grandchildren
                    dancing in their seats
talking, laughing while
eating their food.

 

So easy to be enchanted by the children.
Easier to look away from the old man.
Ignore the crowds of people rushing around.

 

It's then we see the diversity of
          people moving
                    at different paces
in their life journey
in this marketplace.

 

Yet, today, the silent cane strikes loud
          it strikes us how
                    it does not thud,
not to push him
nor power each step.

 

We imagine the cane has become
          invisible to him
                    a level of protection,
reestablish balance
avert total collapse.

 

His demeanor shows he accepts
          his faithful body
                    despite its weakness,
today's troubles
will be settled.

 

He has advanced to another decade
          found peace where
                    worry once reigned,
solace in a time of
constant chaos.

 

We asked him, what was the greatest
          lesson that you learned
                    during your lifetime?
He stared at the wall
put his hand in his pocket.

 

The elderly man walked without a word,
          paused, turned
                    toward us,
smiled and said,
I know nothing.

 

I know nothing. Excuse me,
          we are going to the park.
                    I have to push
my grandkids
on the swings.

Juan Felipe Herrera

 For the Moment -- 7/14/24

My name is Kindness

My identity is Non-Violence

My body is All Life

My mind is the Present

My song is Every Breath

My voice is Hope

My skin is Humanity

My purpose is You, Earth & Sky

My belief is Compassion

My message is Save the World

Ellyn Maybe

CHAOTIC ORBIT (HAIKU) 

The stars swirl around

in their planetary dance.

Much mayhem ensues.

VITALITY OF SHOW BIZ (HAIKU) 

Energetic times.

Vibrant song and dance.

Broadway here to stay.

ASTROLOGICAL FEELINGS (HAIKU) 

Zodiac hug farm.

The signs come out vivacious. 

A bounty of love.

jf giraffe

PISCES (HAIKU) 

Pisces is my sign. 

It predicts things about me. 

Zodiac of truth.

TENSE SOLAR SYSTEM (HAIKU) 

Planets are worried. 

Concerned Earth will be destroyed.

Humans just don't care.

Petrouchka Alexieva

Pluto Stays in Scorpio’s House for Nine Years

Pluto/Hades with Cerbers

Credits: https://www.greekartworks.com/

 

Nine years of intensity into my life.

Pluto, the God of the alchemy, arts of the Dark

and hypnotic control stays on my side.

But this is not all.

 

He is the main sorcerer of the Underworld

keeping the balance of the Death and Rebirth.

With His very strong magnetic presence,

Pluto keeps under his hooded cloak

the desires, love and emotions. In fact,

He balances their proportions

and the harmony in the whole Universe,

 

I’m a Leo. I’m not going to stand in a shadow

of moody, self-absorbed or phony crowds.

I love to walk alone, observing what is going on.

I see sharp trough someone’s aura. I read

what people went through and what they desire,

while they crazy run in their daily attire.

I am a witch, an oracle, a hexa by Zodiac nature.

 

Pluto gives me an intuition of self-preservation.

Thus, in special occasions, I walk with a Scorpio

in my hand, as a friend.

Pluto gives me the power to outstand

someone’s splashes of dirt. I survive and emerge.

 

I am Pluto’s Phoenix bird, flapping flaming wings

from ashes with glorious wreath on my head

Black pansies and acacia branches cast their spell.

 

With his gift of sexy black magic, I turn energy

into irresistible fire in my oracle midnight dances.

With his blessings I can go to extremes,

be seductive, erotic, unforgiving… and win.

When you send me to Hell, I say

” Thank you! I dance there with its flames”.

 

Pluto opens mysterious doorway for me

for the next my self-transformation.

My every day is a new adventure.

Spreading new wings, I chase a new destination;

and a very new journey begins.

 

P.S : Pluto (Latin: Plūtō) In the earlier classical mythology, was the ruler of the underworld. The earlier Greek name for the god was Hades, the Greek god of wealth, since wealth comes from the underworld itself. Other names: Chernobog (Slavic), Dagda (horseman, great father, Ireland), Osiris (Egypt), Hel, Thanatos, Morrígan/Morrígu (Irish antiquity), Nepthys, Hsi Wang Mu (as female The Queen Mother of the West, China), just to mention some.