Palettal Prose: Direction

if at a crossroads she appears

do not be surprised

when she points in five directions.

know that, whichever chosen,

they all curve home.

~marna, from We’Moon

Palettal Prose: What We Need is Ice

in a time of fireclouds and ancient glacial melt,

what we need is ice:

a tempest of composure.

since we’ve always know

pathetic fallacy

isn’t

a lie and we can weatherwork

with our emotions:

we combat global warming

and the incessant need

of pendants to set the world on fire

(see where it’s gotten us)

with our ice of clarity, our tintinabulation

of ice bells, striking chords from stalactites

of anger that have tightened

to harp weft and harpsichord tune.

we are tiger tines in ice caves teething out as musical crystals

of snow music rechilling the biomes

with our measured breath puffs

as wind mages in map corners of yore.

this is where the fury

from the many and sundry violations of this age

comes in handy, is the ice medicine the earth requires.

stop playing with your sticks and kindling, boys;

it’s time for fancier tricks, dancier licks at ice guitars,

turning molten anger to new clarity caves whose acoustics

carry melodies of re-formation to restructure what was almost lost.

not a time for heedless fire of feckless lightning,

a time for alignment and steeling, restructuring to core.

our emanating wholeness re-coheres the music of the spheres

within the world waters. it can make us whole.

-marna, 2010