Tag Archives: metamorphosis

Transformation

There are times when it is necessary for the body to become its own cradle, a nest-fed rocking and grave trembling toward the loam of ceremony and siege, and while transformation isn’t easy, if you listen closely, tender ear to … Continue reading

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Processing Claims

Note to metamorphosizing self: every cocoon quivers and trembles, every process of change brings with it a new set of keys, and claims, every slumber implicitly contains the charge of wakefulness, and every grief minnows within a sea of holy … Continue reading

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Growing Legend

Metamorphosis makes demands on us all, and imposes its necessary will, but love, rooted in omnipresence, is not subject to change. It is a legend, limitless in freight and scope, and famous for its radiant center.

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Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Note to metamorphosizing self: every cocoon quivers and trembles, every process of change brings with it a new set of keys, and claims, every slumber implicitly contains the charge of wakefulness, and every grief minnows within a sea of holy … Continue reading

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Childhood’s Wake

You can feel it in the air, a razory sheen, all the childhoods that were lost or stolen or seized or buried to model catacombs and secret lairs, are returning to the surface bigtime, the reclaimants growing new teeth and … Continue reading

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Wings and Prayers

“Armed with burning patience, we shall enter the splendid cities.”–Arthur Rimbaud Piers, rocking the morphlife, growing her wings. Nocturne rising. Pinkmilk dawn on its tender heels.

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Metamorphosis Variations

I. As I awoke one morning, from a blue-dark night of drinking and uneasy dreams, I found myself transformed into a cockroach. Figures it’d be a cockroach, skidded a deadpan between a head full of swollen thoughts.  With newfound prehistoric … Continue reading

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Ch-Ch-Changes

Note to metamorphosizing self: every cocoon quivers and trembles, every process of change brings with it a new set of keys, and claims, every slumber implicitly contains the charge of wakefulness, and every grief minnows within a sea of holy … Continue reading

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Pupa

Seven years later, the pupa stage of marriage– Who the hell are you?   (Artwork by Izumi Yokoyama)    

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Samsa in Transit

It had been one of those nights, but still, the stairs were unexpected. The bug, formerly known as Gregor Samsa, scuttled to the eroded edge of a step bleached by white-hot light, and he considered the view, the ascent, the blue-dark, … Continue reading

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