| Earthcup's Poetry |
| Gnarled shadings of blue rise and arch and dip into the fuzzy forests of the horizon a large twisted tree stand solitary ruling the knoll dramatic against the clouds like an old woman who has kept her pride while losing all contact with her kind yet not so lonely perhaps verdant grass and moss suround her trunk a robin creates a nest with her cast off twigs but no, she holds herself aloft up in her sanctimonious realm the wind embraces she only backs away |
| Goddess On The Loose I saw Venus today She was about 50 Sensual and voluptous She stepped from Rueben's paintbrush and dressed herself in violet silk She was shorter than I (with heels on her feet) But she saw the eagles fly and the hawks hunt their prey Then she smiled at me A Mighty Aphrodite |
| Good Girl she's never taken illegal drugs never smoked never drank alchohol instead she drinks Coke till her hands shake She eats to keep her loneliness from pouring out until her heart beats so hard she thinks her battered body can't contain it Little Miss Goody Two Shoes |
| Hymn you stand tall your body bristling shining in the rays of golden sunlight you know all that was and is you see beyond to the things which are hidden from mortals view I wish to sit at your feet and catch truths dropping like honey and gobble them up so my hair, eyes and mouth shine, reflecting your light |
 |
| The Love Spell Round and round and down and down, the fire slowly burns. Round and round and down and down, the mud beneath her churns. It was the autumn of the year, like the scarlet maple was her hair. She came her with the wagons, I saw her, so fair and clear. In shirtsleeves on the square you were working the wooden cider press. Young maidens helped you, giggling, in their finest feastday dress. That night she stirred the embers and chanted up a tune to lure you to the firwood beneath a harvest moon. Shivering she waited til she felt a radiant embrace. She froze mid-smile, her lover did not wear your face. Now she's far from your village, far from the sacred morn you brought apples and wildflowers to a girl ravaged and torn. It's been two months since then and the night are deadly dark except a small bonfire and a girl dancing for a lark. No, not a lark, a sin. She dances round so wild, she jumps and shrieks and falls to kill my growing child. Round and round and down and down, the fire slowly burns. Round and round and down and down, the mud beneath her churns. |