Copyright 2006 belongs to the individual poet. Please
contact the artist for reproduction rights. Anaar's
poem is an exception, consider this copyleft.
Feri is the language born on the wind,
Feri is the yarn a raconteur spins.
Feri is the lash upon my cheek,
Feri is the color that I speak.
Feri is the hunger in my belly,
Feri is the cave which is my dwelling.
the fire in the eye
the pulse of quickened blood
the satin flash of pleasure
the fire and the flood
a dance on razor's edge
the song within the heart
the time we greet the world
and the time that we depart.
© Storm Faerywolf
simple and complex as a leaf
effortless like a fish swimming upstream
wild & patient like a cat
the spirit & the bride say "come"
they are one and the same
and this is why She says your name
in the space between heartbeats
and the moment between the inbreath
and the outflow
that dark is filled with stars
© Mark S.
The song that makes you shiver
Hair crawling and shifting
Follicle receivers tuned to
The darkness between the stars
The siren call
And the warm throbbing response
Answering from below.
© Phoenix Willow
the thin edge of the razor's blade