High Mass

Every time I reach to
touch you
I cause an earthquake
every time I look
in your direction
someone gets hurt
I am cursed
wretched, torn apart
feathers drifting,
tears staining

I’m followed by darkness
he knows I’m
dragging my ass
I can’t shake his shadow
and I smell of Death

yet I stand here, an innocent
who never lost the caul
of childhood

They talk to me like I know, but…

I don’t understand anything
of this world 

heart open wide to the
shaky shoal of love,
still waiting….

I’ll keep looking up

just let me wear my black
dress and sing the
High Mass
all alone near a dark sea

let me convene with
the Others

those who walked on coals
yet smiled like their
feet were encased in ice

© 2012 J. Noade

Ophelia

Braid

"Braid" ©. 2012 J. Noade

Whispering Bamboo

The Story is Happening As it is Told. In December 2011, I visited Japan for the first time. One evening, I went to Arashiyama, the bamboo forest in Kyoto City, during their annual Illumination Festival. The streets were crowded with eager tourists from near and far, hungry for photos of the beautifully coloured lights on the silent, giant, sleeping bamboo. My camera failed twice there, once this evening and then again the next day when I returned alone. I got no photos at Arashiyama. It was as though the bamboo did not want me to take his picture. But I received this one from my friend today. Just at the moment of this capture, I am, (on the left), listening to the bamboo speak. They told me “Tired. Too many people.”

Photo © 2011 Yayoi Nagaoka

Illuminate (Arashiyama 2)

Photo © 2011 Yayoi Nagaoka

Belladonna

I get
it          you
wish          to      only     meet
at            the             edge
of       a       dream (it          will
never     be  tested     no one
will                  lose)         but
another           season     is
bursting    with    sex
soon the  flowers
will un
furl
their
long fingers
of  charm
sweet
nectar

for birds,
bees, and
boys the
cycle
spins
again yet
my own
small
circle
is coming
to a close

  inside
this
temporal
tempest
is perpetual
autumn
if you
pluck
me now
you                                               may smell
only                                         the
faintest          sweetest
dirtiest          note
of Death

© 2012 J. Noade

Love Lies West

"Love Lies West" © 2012 J. Noade

One Day

One day, one day
when the world is tiny
I shall see you in the
curve of a sea shell

be that as it may
you will stay shiny
spit-licked, prism-tripped
worlds away, I’ll be

(I will make you tea and crab crumble
sun will boil the water and it will taste briny)

will you remember our life on the outside?
will you recall that time we took a ferry ride?
will you see me with the eyes of a sea thing?
or look at me with memories of
the Faerie King?

‘course we’ll sing fisher songs
‘course we’ll find danger
‘course we’ll comb the walls for jewels
in our wee shell chamber

yes! we’ll sing “fiddle dee dee”
and “yo ho ho and a bottle-a” too

I’ll place my ear upon the wall
but I’ll hear only you

© 2009 J. Noade

Raven Dream, Raven Dance

I was in a place I don’t know. A small town. On the step of a campus at some university. A woman had to make a decision to leave or stay, but could not. I looked up in a tree and there were many crows and one raven sitting in the middle of them. He was much bigger than them–more so than in waking life–and I told her “look! it means you must …[stay or go, I can't recall].”
“This is it. It’s the end of the world,” I said to her.
“Only then will Crow sit with Raven, quietly and peacefully like that. The time has come. You have to do what you truly desire. There will not be another chance.”
Just then Raven jumped down from the tree. A few crows followed noiselessly, and we humans jumped up too, to see what would happen next. Raven began to hop about and up a path. He looked to be dancing and I wanted to join him.
Suddenly there were several graduating West Coast aboriginal people there in black graduation gowns, some with caps, and they began to follow Raven in his dance. They began their own Raven dance. I was so happy and I wanted to join them as well. I ran with excitement, but was unsure of the moves to the dance or whether it would be appropriate to join in. Still, my body knew the movements to some kind of Raven dance. I could feel it pulsing through me, wanting expression. Then as I watched, I could anticipate each dancer’s move. I thought it would be okay to dance as it came through me, but in the end I did not out of respect for the Raven clan dancers.
Then a lone man began to sing a Raven song. It had an Irish melody just like this, (for notes on this song please see this site). After this, Raven got caught in a big empty cauldron and someone spun him around by the foot until he was either dead or stunned. They held him up victorious for all to see. He was so big! I felt very sad for him and wondered why he must be sacrificed.

02/20/12