Tag: literature

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…


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 on the Road

On yet another February day late in that month of unforgiving earth, the irregular beating of junco wings, I rest on a fallen rock, the slab electric with the brutality of bone cold, and the sun fights with clouds, fights to spotlight me, and…