the god of expression blesses you


After surviving the fanfold and admiring
your oblique body, don’t be surprised

when a chain of perfect strangers
unfurl themselves from the raw material of you
and hold your hand. It’s normal to be anxious

but if you’re as good as you say you are,
you won’t worry about who created whom
in whose image, or begrudge the loss of touch.
Or which one of you is the mother,
the father, which one came first.

hoary frosting

Pray when the crayon touches your face
that the god of expression blesses you
with a smile, remembers the two dots
for the eyes. Pray for shirt, for hair. Be thankful

you’re not that poor lonely twin
at the end of the line, one arm raised
and reaching out for someone
who will never reach back.

~ Colin Pope, If You Ever Become a Paper Doll

raspberry beret

raspberry beret

every word speaks

insatiably of you, stirs

me as coriander into

the roux of you . . .

if meager prose

must — quotidian of dust,

substituative and starved

and parched as husks,

let a green grape tractate

us . . .  our mouths on toast enjamb,

passional with feasting

– You be slaughter,

I’ll be curried lamb


© Liana, Speaking in Tongues

will break for poetry


Last year, I admired wines. This, I’m wandering inside the red world. Last year, I gazed at the fire. This year I’m burnt kabob. Thirst drove me down to the water where I drank the moon’s reflection. Now I am a lion staring up totally lost in love with the thing itself. Don’t ask questions about longing. Look in my face. Soul drunk, body ruined, these two sit helpless in a wrecked wagon. Neither knows how to fix it. And my heart, I’d say it was more like a donkey sunk in a mudhole, struggling and miring deeper. But listen to me: for one moment, quit being sad. Hear blessings dropping their blossoms around you. God.

~ Rumi




Blood Moon 10.8

Longitudinally, the Moon made her observations

and concluded that I had issues with Object Permanence

. . . clearly I’d been left to cry too long

in my crib or the one who should be there never would

or could be . . . these are issues of impermanence I clarified

as the Sun unseen leaned over bearing down and breathing heavy

into the Moon who couldn’t hear me anymore . . . disappearing

into the star-spun fabric of Her nature ever giving Herself

up for the taking . . .   endlessly I was shaking

my head because I know how this thing goes down

it does not last    everyone will remember such a thing but

it never lasts . . .the world will always come between you


© Liana 10/14