Tag: King Arthur

Igraine’s Letter

It is not a chaste kiss One wants from another Who is the focus of drowning Desire It is not that Merlin: a life of magic with no love –only obsession at the end yet His empathy for Uther His empathy toward passion Propelled…


 “ . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . one night my vow Burnt me within, so that I rose and fled, But wail’d and wept, and hated mine own self, And even the holy quest, and…


After the painting La Belle Dame Sans Merci by Sir Frank Dicksee  But it is not me –not me in that painting. John Keats was ever alone and destined To die young—he was consumed, Consumed—I tell you—with disease Not me. And yet.

Merlin at Lessons

He rarely listened to what I taught but that is the way. A true teacher learns early that insisting the student listen is the surest way to uninsure it. I would be deep into Lao Tze’s treatise on warfare, and he would be drawing…


As a girl I gathered the gooseberries effortlessly and helped my mother bake the pies. I knew just how much sugar was needed for the berries—and I could sense their taste by lightly squeezing them and measure the tautness or softness against the sugar….


I opened the gate, walked into the garden Rust flaked off in my hands Sifting the dust To put out the air Squeeze my eyes shut to open to Statues Angel wings, a maiden This urn I smelled it from the garden gate