Chrysalis Dreams

Untitled Spring Poem

2009-03-25T20:37:04Z

The soft pink drift of spring
pale desire, the weight of wishes
petals blown, a fantasy of rain
gusting through winter frigid streets
to stick on the wet sidewalks

March passing with the steps of a lamb
A hope of April rising purple from the soil
satin flowers born during a dismay of unseasonable snow
The light of longer days, a benediction

The newborn season, the nest of promises
The coal that held through winter disintegrates to ash,
patience spent. Longing for a warm day conceives
A dream of sunlight's kiss
From the indifferent caress of cherry blossom falling.

"This Dream of the Moon"

2008-12-26T05:53:42Z

From the dedication page of The Darkangel:
To Joy, Carnell, and Dr. Green,
this dream of the Moon
-Meredith Ann Pierce

***
[Yue has a series of bad dreams after reading a fantasy novel, featuring various people he knows in place of the novel's characters.]

***

Awakening

Eyes opening in the dark, Yue, Sakura’s Moon Guardian, shuddered awake. He could still hear like an echo the green-eyed girl calling him evil. He remembered hunting her across dessert sands, losing her in the battle with the golden lion. Clinging wisps of loneliness in a cold, empty castle followed him out of the dream.

Yue rested his gaze onto the sliver of shining moon outside the room's window. It appeared as a fat crescent, to a cursory look. When seen a different way, it was clearly a dark orb, reflecting light only along one curved side. A world. In his dream, it was a world of open magic and unearthly creatures. In this world of lingering nights, he was a winged Icarus, a vampyre that stole the souls and drank the blood of girls, turning them into wraiths.

It was all the fault of the novel he had read, he knew. It was the same story, only... only he was the monster. He was the bloodless, timeless Prince Irrylath, who flew out across the land once a year to steal a bride. He wore their souls in vials on a heavy chain around his neck. Vivid images came to mind, rising up from the remains of the dream like bodies floating in a polluted lake.

Yue shuddered again. It seemed foolish to be disturbed by such a dream, yet he was. A monster. His heart had been covered in lead: walled off and unfeeling. A man with a beautiful face, but wings turned as ink-black as his deeds. He indulged himself in a measure of reassurance by unfolding his wings so that the moon's light fell on the satiny white feathers. He sat in the darkness, poignantly desiring company. After a long while, his head drooped down onto the cradle of his arms. He slept again. He dreamed, again.

He was hidden inside of Yukito Tsukishiro through the day, and then evening arrived.

Darkangel’s Dreams

Yuki had fallen asleep on top of Touya’s bed. All Touya wanted to do was to put the text books away, turn off his computer, and pull a blanket over their two bodies snuggled together. He sighed quietly. Because his job kept him late, he still had unfinished homework, homework that counted toward his final grade. He set to it with a burst of incentive to finish.

He was absorbed in formulas when Yukito’s mumbling voice startled him. The soft-spoken young man sounded as though he was still half asleep. “I remember…”, he began. “I dreamed I was a vampyre who drank maiden’s blood.” He halted, perplexed. Blinking, he looked at Touya with a smile. “You were in my dream,” he said.

“No,” he amended as he rubbed sleepiness from his eyes. “You were in Yue’s dream.” He chuckled with gentle cheer.

“Yue dreamed that he was a vampire?” asked Touya with disbelief.

“It was a dream about Sakura-chan…” mused Yukito. He yawned, stretched. “Is it very late?”

Touya looked at the time. “Just after nine-thirty.” He cast his friend a small smile. “Sleepyhead.”

Yukito shyly returned the look. “I’m going to see if Sakura-chan is still awake. In case it’s important.”

Sakura was in pajamas, awake and playing a video game against Kero-chan. He complained when she got up to open the door. She opened the door not to Yukito, but to Yue. She ushered him into the room. “Hoee…” she couldn’t help vocalizing, however quietly, as she pulled the door closed again.

“Yue!” exclaimed Keroberos, immediately changing into his full size leonine form.

“Is something wrong?” asked Sakura.

Yue tried not to look as uncomfortable as he felt. “I have been having dreams…” he started.

Keroberos rubbed his chin with one clawed paw. “Prophetic dreams?” he asked in a shrewd tone. “A warning of some danger coming?”

Very carefully, Yue sat down on Sakura’s pink bed. “Nothing of the like. Merely, dreams.” He looked at his Mistress with dismay. “May I tell you about them?”

“What kind of dreams?” Sakura pulled out her desk chair and sat attentively ready to listen. Yue rarely asked for anything from her. It made her happy that he wanted to confide in her.

Yue knew he had to speak about the dreams to make them stop. Beyond that, there was an element to this series of dreams that made him feel troubled about his relationship with his new master. He saw that she was intimidated by him, but surely she didn’t see him as a monster? “Your dark-haired friend,” he started. It was easier, with Keroberos listening; he had heard telling of many of Yue’s strange dreams, in times past.

“Tomoyo-chan?” supplied Sakura.

“Yes. I dreamed that… .” He started again. “I dreamed that you and she were on a hillside. Flower, dancing in the sunset sky, sprinkled snowdrops on you from above. You and Eoduin… Tomoyo-san… were collecting the flowers.”

“That sounds nice,” commented Sakura in the pause.

“Night fell. A creature with black wings swooped down and stole the dark-haired girl away. A vampyre, taking her to be his bride.” He continued on over Sakura’s noise of dismay, “It was I. I have been dreaming that I am that vampyre.

“I took the girl away to my castle, an enormous, cold, empty place. When I was done with her, she was hollow and empty, too. A wraith. I cast her away with my twelve previous brides – all wraiths. They huddled in a room, unable to remember their names or lives, all vitality and youth stolen from them.”

“Whoa. Scary,” Keroberos interjected. “That’s some bad dream.”

“A nightmare!” Sakura clutched at a stuffed toy that had been within her reach.

Keroberos looked keenly at his counterpart. “There’s more, isn’t there?”

“Yes.”

Icarus’ Bride

Yue continued. “You, Mistress Sakura, came seeking justice for this evil deed. Yet I captured you as well, and took you back to my demesne to serve as a maid to the wraith wives.”

Sakura cringed further at Yue’s dream-telling. “Ghosts…!” she shivered.

“I am sorry. I am upsetting you.”

“No, Yue-san. I’m okay.” Sakura put on a braver appearance. “You can tell the rest.” Sakura did not like scary stories at all, but she also knew that sharing a nightmare made the bad dream less awful. She wanted Yue to treat her as a friend. This is what friends did for each other – even if it meant thinking about ghosts.

“But the girl – you, Sakura – made a friend and ally at the castle.” He told a lighter part of the story. His dream had not contained much of this part from the novel, except for the odd characterization of the ally. “He lived in the caves below the castle because he had to stay hidden in shadow, but he helped you as he could. He was called ‘The Little Mage of Downwending’, for the labyrinthine nature of the caves.” In Yue’s dream, Clow played this part. Yue was accustomed to Clow being a part of his dreams. Still, this part seemed strange. Yet it was true that Clow Reed had helped Sakura as she captured and became the new Master of the Clow Cards.

“The Little Mage worked against the vampyre. He gave you a golden spindle and gave you a riddle-quest, later helping you escape so that you could find the secret of the Icarus’ undoing.”

“A spindle? Like in the “Sleeping Beauty” play?”

Yue nodded. “You used it to spin for the wraiths. It took much practice, but you mastered it.” Yue mused. “Your staff. As when you first began to collect the Cards. Later in the dream, it also became your weapon, in the desert.”

“But why, Yue-san?” Sakura asked the question softly. “Why were you evil?”

Yue flinched. The green-eyed girl in his dream had also called him evil. This part he also told from the book. “The Darkangel was a prince that had been stolen as a child, then turned into an Icarus by a witch.”

“And why did I go to the desert?” asked Sakura.

Quest and Flight

“The riddle told of an artifact that would undo the vampyre,” explained Yue. “The Icarus raged through the castle… mad with dreams. The Little Mage of Downwending gave you a boat in the shape of a bird and sent you out to the desert to find the hoof of the Star Horse. It was this power of the stars that would make you strong enough to defeat the Icarus.

“You escaped the Icarus’ castle in the boat. When it came to shore, the boat changed into a large bird and flew away. It became the Windy,” he noted with bemusement. In his dream, his sibling in creation had appeared, unsurprisingly, as Wing-on-the-Wind.

“I gave chase when I discovered that you were gone, and nearly recaptured you, but a golden lion appeared as your protector,” he said this part in ironic tones, “and bested in me a challenge of might.”

Keroberos did nothing to hide his satisfaction at the turn in the story.

“And then what happened?”

“The vampyre, wounded, wing broken, returned to the castle.” This was some of the worst of the dream: damaged, alone, trapped in the castle. Or rather, not alone – it was a castle haunted by his past misdeeds, the wraith wives. “You returned to confront me… Mistress. You had grown strong. You conquered me.” In the dream, Sakura had returned with the hoof of the Star Horse. It was the Bell of the Moon, and when she rang it, Yue had no power against her. There were places where the dream was obvious, and this was one, that the Mage had given the green-eyed girl the means to best him, just as Clow had preordained that Sakura would win the Judgment.

“You also saved me.”

Sakura released a tense breath, though she didn’t lighten her grip on the stuffed toy. “Then… it has a good ending? That is a scary dream, Yue-san. But, if it ended all right, it isn’t too bad, right?”

Yue shook his head slowly. “You are right. It is nothing,” he said. He could not, now, ask her if she thought him a monster with a heart of lead. She looked at him with sweet concern, but always still with a diffidence bordering on fear.

A light knock announced the opening of the room door. “Everything okay in here?” asked Touya. When he locked eyes with Keroberos, the big lion could not help, for a moment, freezing up out of habit.

“Yue-san was telling us about his bad dream,” Sakura supplied.

Touya turned his measuring gaze to the winged Guardian of his little sister.

“It has disrupted my sleep, but it is nothing of importance.” Yue stood. “A fantasy captured my imagination too deeply.” He shook his head again. “Thank you for listening.”

Sakura wished her Guardian a good night. Touya followed when Yue quietly walked out into the hallway, heading back in the direction of Touya’s room. “When Yuki woke up,” Touya started, “he said I had been in your dream.”

“At the end, it was you who gave me your heart. To save my life.” Yue seemed to realize, suddenly, that he had spoken. He made a poor attempt to cover his embarrassment. “In the manner of dreams.” He quickly escaped into a cocoon of his wings and transformed into his other self. Yukito still looked slightly sleepy.

“I’m almost done with homework.” Touya offered, “Do you want to go down to the kitchen and get something to eat?”

Return

Eyes opening to night, Yue awoke. He had been hidden inside of a false form while Keroberos selected a candidate and while the candidate, a girl-child, collected the wayward Clow Cards. Now, he awoke as Yue the Judge, to test the suitability of one who would be their new Master.

This one was certain to fail. The boy who attacked, despite being a Li and therefore a relation to Clow Reed, was a moment’s distraction. The girl was sure to fail, in spite of being the chosen candidate, because no one had ever defeated Yue the Judge except Clow Reed – his creator.

And as he expected, she was not strong enough, or clever enough, or deceitful enough to beat him, as Clow had been. She even cast Windy to fight him. When she again made a weak, poorly-thought-out attempt with The Woody, Yue turned the sinuous branches back to her and bound her, making them squeeze her. She would soon faint.

Then the Doom would happen. Everyone would forget the one they loved the most. He, Yue, would not feel the terrible ache in his soul, anymore, when all of Clow was wiped from his memory. One loss to cure another.

Trickery and deceit. Yue had not known about the Bell of the Moon until he heard its pure, mournful tone and he felt his power bound by the sound.

Change of Heart

In the dream, the winged man cried out in agony. He collapsed in convulsions, twisting, crawling and clawing across the frigid stone floor. At last, he lay still, unable to move.

Touya approached and knelt down beside the fallen Icarus. Somehow, he was the bearer of the Sword Card, and Sword had manifested as a smaller blade. The gleaming dagger pierced Yue’s chest, splitting open ribs and bloodless flesh to reveal his cold heart. With one hand, Touya removed the lead covered heart. With the other, he used Sword to open his own chest. He placed his heart in the hollow of Yue’s chest, then collapsed.

The heart beat, filling Yue with life and power. It cleansed him. His tar-dark wings fell away into a cloud of black feathers scattering across the room. He was no longer the inhuman Icarus.

In the dream, he was redeemed. In the dream, he became Yukito Tsukishiro.

The Riddling Rime

“Hmm,” Kero grumbled thoughtfully.

“Isn’t there a card that can make dreams, Sakura-chan?” asked Tomoyo.

“Mhm, the Dream,” confirmed the other girl. “We checked, but Dream isn’t doing anything.” She refilled her friend’s teacup. “I don’t like the part where you get kidnapped.”

“Hmmm,” Kero pondered. Served his cake, he stabbed a large piece with his fork and then stuffed it in his mouth. “Mmmmm.”

Tomoyo sipped her tea thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s just a bad dream after all.”

Eclipse

The phone rang. Yue knew who was calling, who would not-to-infrequently call in the middle of the night for no reason, but this time he picked up the call.

Ruby Moon pretended apology. “Oh! Did I wake you up?”

“Not this time, Ruby Moon.” Yue sighed.

“No?” Eriol’s Moon Guardian sounded disappointed. “Oh. Good.” Thwarted, she let silence sit on the long-distance line for several long, expensive seconds. “So… why are you up?”

Yue considered dissembling. But it was lonely enough in Yukito’s house that even the company of Ruby Moon appealed more than another return to fitful sleep. “Have you ever thought of yourself as a monster?” he asked.

Ruby Moon laughed. “Cute little me? Of course I’m a monster!” Her laugh squealed before turning into a more intimate chuckle. “I’m the meanest, cutest man-eater you ever met. Why?” she inquired. “Are you seeing a monster in the mirror these days, Yue? Wishing you were mortal?” She pronounced the word with deep distain.

If Yue had been more clear-headed, he might have been impressed with Ruby Moon’s accuracy. He sighed again.

“Is that really it?” she asked, sounding perturbed.

“No. It is just that…” he paused and wondered if he should say anything. Had he been getting better sleep than of late, he might not have said anything more. “A recurring nightmare. A foolish one, yet… troubling.”

“Am I in it?”

There was a heartless, horrible witch in the story. “Strangely,” answered Yue, “no.”

“Oh. Maybe your losing your mind. It happens with old age. Well, that’s my dime. Gotta fly.” She added, before hanging up, “Sweet dreams, Yue.”

Prince Irrylath

“That was… easy,” proclaimed Sakura. Compared to collecting the Clow Cards, reincarnating them into Sakura Cards, and stopping the Void Card, dealing with a little bit of roaming mischief magic was over with awfully quickly. Having Keroberos and Yue backing her up was almost overkill. She shrank her star staff back to key size and dropped it inside her collar. She looked expectantly at her Guardians. “Let’s go home.”

They arrived at the Kinomoto house. Sakura stopped her Moon Guardian when he turned to go. “Yue-san,” she started, “wait.” She answered his look of mild surprise with a warm smile. “Otosan and Oniichan are working, but would you want to come in and spend some time with me and Kero-chan?”

Keroberos agreed. “Yeah, Yue! We had videos,” he offered. “You don’t spend enough time with us, anyway.”

“Certainly. If you wish.”

Sakura led the way in and continued on to the kitchen. “Do you want some hot chocolate, Kero-chan?”

“Sure. I’ll put a movie in while you make it,” answered the lion.

“Yue-san, can you help me in the kitchen?” When the winged man drifted in, Sakura indicated a high shelf. “I can’t reach the mini marshmallows. Can you bring them down for me, please?”

Yue easily reached the bag, which he then handed down to his Mistress. She mixed sugar, cocoa powder, and milk in a saucepan. She then proffered the large spoon to Yue. “Do you mind stirring?”

“Not at all,” answered a bemused Yue. After a few moments, he made a suggestion. “A half pinch of salt with balances the sweetness of desserts.”

“That’s right. I remember that from cooking class.” She shook a few grains from the salt shaker into her hand, looked at Yue for confirmation, and then sprinkled them into the hot beverage.

“You know, Yue-san,” she said after a while of comfortable silence between them, “This is nice.”

Stirring the chocolaty milk, Yue quietly agreed with a nod.

The girl selected three mugs and set them on the counter. “Um, are you still having your bad dream?”

Yue turned off the heat under the saucepan. Before pouring only two of the mugs full, he studied Sakura’s expression. He poured the cocoa and set down the pot. “Why am I frightening to you?”

Sakura dropped marshmallows on top of the cocoa. She looked at the emptiness of the last mug. “Um. Well.” She considered. “Um, you never smile or laugh. I want us to be friends, but… do you like us?”

“Of course,” Yue answered softly with dismay.

“I can’t tell if you do,” mourned Sakura. “Do you like Oniichan?”

“I do. And I am grateful for what he did.” He considered what he had just said, then clarified, “And one is separate from the other. Regardless of his sacrifice… I do like Touya-san.”

“I would like us to be your family, too, like Kero-chan.”

“Ah,” said Yue.

Sakura then surprised him with a little hug. “I do want you to get over your bad dreams, Yue-san.” She looked at him with sincere caring in her eyes, for once more concerned than intimidated by him.

A Spindle of Fallow Gold

When the girl spun for the wraiths, she began with empty hands. By magic, she spun a thread light and fine. Instead of making a thread from wool, flax, or silk fiber, she spun from the charity, kindness, and love in her heart. She clothed the wraiths in garments woven from her love. They were her charges, and broken though they were, she cared for them.

It was her star staff; it was a golden spindle. It didn’t matter. It was gentle, peaceful dream.

***

[Author’s Note: The Darkangel Trilogy by Meredith Ann Pierce was a moderately popular set of YA SF/fantasy novels from the mid-eighties. I have essentially retold the story, and there are spoilers, but I thinned them out as much as possible so that if you haven’t read The Darkangel yet, you will still have some surprises. During a recent re-reading of this long time favorite of mine, I kept seeing CCS comparisons. This fic is just a little one-shot to work that out of my system. The section titles are chapter titles from the book.]

"Counting 99 Sheep"

2008-09-14T17:24:26Z

Come inside, close the door,
she's not coming home
tonight
she's chasing the moon
and you are spilling our light
It won't be locked.
Close the door.

Let it be, come inside,
she will come around
or not
turning back to your reach
and the friendship she forgot,
as did you.
Close the door.

Come inside, close the door,
she doesn't want you now
I do
she knows it won't be barred
and the dark is coming through
I'm by your side,
Close the door.

"Paler Blue"

2008-08-26T05:07:10Z

And this one, that is weirdly appropriate again. Seattle is home.

Paler Blue

How the blue changes
From here to here
From what is home now
To what was home before

The plane is nearly empty
On this early Sunday flight.
I watch out the window
As azure grows lighter

I brought the rain with me.
I’m on Melrose when it ends
Everyone has umbrellas
But me

The time is too short
Three days are not enough
And I feel them speeding by
Half gone, before I realize it

I never got to drive Mulholland
Or walk through Griffith Park
Venice and Santa Monica
Got pressed into two hours

Forty five minutes on the sand
But I could listen to the ocean all day
And my soul won’t understand
Why I cannot stay

It hurts to leave you.
It hurts to leave you, L.A.

Seattle is lovely
But you’re a paler blue
Turquoise like a gem
That I left behind
And am leaving again.

How the night changes
From there to here
Artificial but beautiful
The stars go
From jewels, below

To their right place
Burning in the dark dome
On the flight returning
To what is now home.

(revised/completed 1/07/04)

"Coupling" (1992/1993)

2008-08-26T04:49:41Z

~I am sticking a bunch of old poems in here so that I don't lose them. This one is super anguished.

+Coupling+

Always virginal, I bite my lip
in the darkness so you can't see
and bleed into my own mouth

(Can't you taste, in your kisses,
my self-inflicted pain?)

This necrophiliac coupling with an open wound
This train car to train
metal linked die-cast joining
metal, metallic bleeding
Save me from myself.
I think, in crazy broken chunks,

like rusting boxcars, listing on metal railing
(coupling, uncoupling)
I think, one night too soon, when you leave me
that I must hold the boning knife
Point toward thumb, handle to heart, across
one arm,
Bleed.
What is life but masticating, respiration, copulating --
I don't want it anymore, if ever I did.
Don't let go of me

Arms unwinding, separation
You are leaving me, with a destination
Rattling cars derail, find their places
In dust, corpses, orderly.

My broken voice
Whispers, ghost wind, a plea.
What is life but feasting, breathing, love making --
Some girls cry; why can't I?

said he'd be out late

2008-08-26T04:06:11Z

because you are gone
where and with whom unexplained
so too, the ice cream

steam

2008-06-09T00:03:32Z

Prompt: steam

The girl took the turn with the pipes of her machine spitting steam. Jet pigtail curls pulled straight out from under her leather helmet by the velocity. Through the long-viewer lenses, her brother could see that she was squinting her eyes, instinctively, forgetting again that the goggles would protect her from the wind force. He tensed to watch her scream out of the turn with a seeming loss of control. Another racer braked and veered to avoid collision. Then the small girl shot out fast, straight, and true. The young man chuckled at her ploy, mentally preparing their victory speech.

The Stage

2008-06-09T00:01:22Z

Prompt: The world has moved on.

Remains of the calliope’s mania sang in Dana’s memory as she shuffled over dry, dusty dirt and trash. Colored paper soon to be faded by the daytime blaze littered the field, highlighting its vacancy. The sequined company had gone on beyond the horizon, so dazzled by their own splendor that no one noticed her slip away, in spite of her size – but then, she had never been a star, only a supporting player. She found a piece of glittering foil and stretched her delicate trunk to pick it up, examining the tatter of banner before tossing it away with distain.

"The Ambassador"

2007-11-10T17:37:23Z

Love, you seem to have forgotten
the negotiations made when our borders
became a place connecting you and me
when, with words foreign to our mouths
we forged our treaties,
trading words of love
as embassies in each other's countries

Love, is there no market
for what I have been sending?
Spices and silks unheeded
will rot when left within their crates
Are they unwanted for being foreign
Are the tastes you favor
only those of your own making?

Love, have you erred in thinking
that we were becoming an empire
my language second to yours
my customs, unfamiliar, to be changed
when, within my own borders
I gave your coin value
equal to my own

My flag is raised with my colors
I will sing my anthem -- will you hear it?
This is not war's declaration
Yet I see your battalions ready in defense
Review the contracts, freely signed
I cannot recall my ambassador
it has made a home in you

"Take the Placebo"

2007-09-07T17:03:12Z

Take the placebo, and count your place;
Only filled with green color, but as real as the rest
of the common, small pills you don't put to the test
When being sensible and careful, in any case.

Each day turns the dial another click:
circles and cycles that go on and on
like revolutions of the greater Wheel
whose inexorable progress they mimic.

Take the placebo to follow through.
Don't doubt the task; don't be sad today
a feeling as false as that pill is, anyway,
spun up in the stirring of hormone stew.

"If I fail to cry another night..."

2007-08-10T20:18:24Z

If I fail to cry through another night over this,
Add it to the rest of my failures on a list.
Even if my trust was a treasure you possessed,
I didn't dare to think this would work out for the best;
Though love puts in the knife, hope provides the twist.

If I lost my smile and held your actions to blame,
If I took my disappointment and fanned it to a flame,
I'd be playing innocent to my reckless surrender,
and ignorant to a history I'd do right to remember:
I myself have done no better; I am just the same.

You don't say you're sorry, or in any way apologize
For all the times I believed you when you were telling lovely lies.
It's smarter to be cynical about pledges that are made in bed.
Feeling you would never choose me, I was careful about what I said,
Loving you without saying so and wanting it otherwise.

And I was right. I spoiled it, unable to stay quiet anymore
My wanting had grown greater than I would continue to ignore.
After all this, I don't even care which one of us was lying;
The hurt is deep, and it still stings, but I am done with crying.
Here we are, and there is no way to go back to what we were before.

"Three Different Histories"

2007-04-29T23:34:30Z

I missed you so badly I wept
Two more days have gone by
since then
Today I miss you, but less,
or differently
I'm not sure
I haven't guessed the ending.

Beside you I found sleep and peace
That was a history ago
ambiguous, unspoken
I've changed the tone of our story
gently
I hope
It's hard to read.

Taken apart, that was love
fluttering your favor at tournament
a fabled existence
I feel the torn out pages still
I love you now
not at all
It doesn't bear retelling.

"For one who doesn't believe in angels"

2007-03-30T22:27:48Z

An archangel with his sword of flame
Raised to strike a righteous stroke
Would not feel the passion that I do
As I unfurl my shielding wings;

Unlike the Guardian at the bridge,
Whose placid face smiles without concern
For the bare feet and the path's sharp stones,
I am ruffled with worry
Because the protection that I can offer
Unseen, un-prayed-for,
Inadequate to the dangers I can't know
May also be unwanted.

The one who journeys, burdened,
thinks himself alone on this unmapped road;
I watch over with lips silent
A touch lighter than the brush of feathers
the Uninvited.

"Bitte"

2007-03-15T22:27:34Z

~~~

Begging to be found innocent of this,
A crime against my code of what is right,
That I remain silent in my distress,
That near his heat I have slept through the night,

I know how quickly, still, my lust could find
Justification for his hateful views:
Impulse that by force must be declined,
Unequal exchange for what I would lose.

Impure yes, and fearful of compromise,
afraid of trading surrender for lies.

On my knees I think I am too late
To be given pardon for innocence
nor for the fall I freely contemplate
only for my unchallenged ignorance.

~~~

"Am I already lost in the predatory woods"

2007-02-25T23:59:18Z

Am I already lost in the predatory woods
enthralled with the scent of magic
nights by moonlight's illumination
and mornings glistening with rain
Have I already left behind all chance
of coming out safely again
from the untamed places
Where paw prints stain the snow
and familiar forms
turn strange behind a myst woven veil
It is too late to stay
within safe walls
Too late; I have ventured out
into this story
aware of the wolf
and the wolf aware of me.

"Rosemary Smudge"

2007-02-06T01:27:57Z

"Inspired" by my favorite Edna St. Millay poem, "Rosemary"

For the sake of all the things
That I want to restore
I will write new stories
Using old folklore,
Earl Grey, hot, with bergamot
Will be the tea I pour.

For the sake of faded things
That could be bright again
I won't use an umbrella
against the Seattle rain
I will scribble renga,
and sonnets, and cinquain.

Many things are built upon
What once was everyday.
For the sake of humorous
hyperbole that's gone away
I will learn to curse with "Struth!"
and "The devil you say!".

"Story"

2006-12-22T06:25:40Z

-Story-

Tell me a story, my lady said
as I folded her into blanket and bed
but I saw she was listening to Morpheus calling,
Her head on my shoulder, her eyelids falling,
the curtains closing on the waking stage,
the scenery flown
the set struck

I took my bows too, and followed her down
A step behind the hem of her gown
off backstage to change our clothes;
Then back up to the empty house we rose
In new costumes for the night
Robed in wishes
Clad in magic

And out we went past the velvet chairs
down the carpeted, marble stairs
from the mezzanine to the lower floor
beyond the great mahogany double door
Out to the night, glittering with snow
the icicle moon
the crystal stars

Upon the sidewalk we danced, we twirled,
so that our cozy, warm cloaks swirled
and flashed their hidden satin hues;
We strolled along in our shining shoes
lifting our voices in tipsy singing
Lips in the shapes of rosey lyrics
Breath in clouds of white

"Where to now?" My lady smiled.
With the mischief of a child
she ran off down the boulevard
So I chased her, sprinting hard
splashing puddles creased with ice
reaching out to catch her scarf
as silken as her stride

It spooled out behind her, a kite tail,
Her laughter billowing, full sail.
We swam through pools of lamp post spotlight,
We flew on wings feathered with night,
Chameleon as the shadings of dusk
gods in a playground
of possibilities

On imagination's palette, the brush of thought
daubs impossible colors out of mind's paint pot
We spool the pictures into a single reel
And turn the gears of a narrative wheel
Making sense of a motley mosaic
Confetti in the shifting air
Fireworks, falling stars

In her embrace, time overspills its measure;
The heat of her body is a golden treasure
In the cave of our bed, in the blanket heap,
the curve of her side is a nest of safe sleep;
Tell me a story, susurrous enchantment
She whispers
And we dream.

Consideration Given

2006-11-17T00:08:27Z

-Sedoka-

Dare I consider
erring on the side of good?
Do I strive for forgiveness?

Turn her a cold cheek?
"What would blessed Jesus do?"
My sarcasm is telling.

Am I frost or fire?
Indifference cannot win.
I would fail at being nice.

Forward with caution,
consideration given:
A year is not long enough.

Calmly, I can see --
choices have consequences;
What was lost, I didn't need.

"In the Meantime, Until"

2006-08-28T21:04:11Z

Before you find the mothers of your children,
those reflecting sparkles of your shining light,
there is a woman who loves
the heat on the rim of a coffee cup,
the mirror in the bitter drink,
and the image of herself in your eyes
across a cafe table.

Before your stride grows too long to keep pace,
or the track narrows to single file width,
there is a woman who loves
the heat of the Leo sun,
the song on the open road she travels,
and the sound of her harmony with you
singing on a summer night.

Before things change, as they are meant to do,
before the constellations shift, before promises come due,
here is a woman whose spirit flame
can be a heat to compliment your warmth,
whose mind can sound against your thoughts
with questions and answers of her own
about the world she loves.

"Strange Days"

2006-08-27T20:13:04Z

The feathered wings of a memory brushing by
whisper as the words you drop like stars,
stars cascading in continuity's sky,
a sky full of the past's migration

the weather is changing
on the eve of strange days

While I walk the side path with cairns on the trail
adumbrative warning for caution ahead
for caution, going forward where footing could fail,
in this direction where the way doubles back

I read in patterns of new constellations
the shape of beasts forgotten, the outline of strange days.

"Nightly Rising"

2006-07-13T02:50:41Z

"Nightly Rising"

In satin pools of blood, reflection drowned.
She saw her face within the shining eye
of he who stank of cemetery ground,
who drained her to her death but not to die.

The looking glass is blank when she slides by,
never again her image to be found.
To darkness and to endless desire bound,
she creeps beneath the haunt of the cold sky.

Mirroring a mirror, unknowingly,
The pale glide of that celetial body,

Nightly rising with sickle dripping white,
the pulse of day changed to a pallid flow
of stolen life for a dead satellite,
that immortal older than she below.

"Figure It Out"

2006-07-04T20:08:21Z

CCS Fanfic
1860 Words
This would fit into the manga canon, volume #3. Written for one_blanket.

~Figure it Out~

Ice was in the rain, winter rain, more cruel than snow. Colder than snow. Snow was something that fell softly, making soft shapes of the garden outside the bay window. The window was made of small, beveled panels; looking through it, out into the garden, was like looking into a kaleidescope. In winter, gentle winter when Yue and Cerberus and Clow lounged together by a cozy fire, the garden through the window sparkled in crystal and silver.

Ice was in the rain, and Yue was frozen from inside outward. That it -- the ice, the rain, winter -- was a metaphor mattered little to him. It wasn’t real, any more than he was real. No longer allowed the oblivion of sleep since woken for the Judgement, he existed in metaphor. The rain made a barrier between him and his false self -- as he thought of Tsukishiro Yukito -- who was beneath even Yue’s distain. Yet it would not go on much longer. They would soon both be non-existent. Yukito’s corporeality stuttered and failed as Yue’s store of life-sustaining magic emptied; the Moon Guardian waned.

The sound of a rich, male voice calling out roused Yukito into consciousness. Yue turned away from the desperate concern. There was a source of life-sustaining magic there, too; Yue turned away from its call. Kinomoto Touya, elder brother of Yue’s new Mistress, plunged through trees and hedges toward a pale figure lying on cold grass. Yue hunched down in the rain. Yukito bumbled into awareness and slowly sat up.

* * *
“Don’t scare me like that!”

Yukito tried to smile. “I’m just… really sleepy.” He managed but felt too tired to smile fully. “These days.” Touya did not look at all reassured by the smile. “It’s so strange. I got plenty of sleep last night.” Yukito found himself apologizing for not meeting Touya the night before and for not answering the phone. He tried to explain that it was White Day… but then the day went white all over, as if a blizzard had blown in. A worry welled up as he collapsed, that Touya would get cold in all that white snow… .

* * *

"C'mon Yuki." Touya hunched against the wind. It blew stronger with every gust, changed from a wet slap of sleet into an ice-barbed flail. "Are you sure that lock isn't frozen?" When Touya blew at his gloveless hands, Yukito saw how his fingers had gone white and his lips had lost color and looked grayish. He wasn't shivering anymore, either.

Yukito was, himself, cold to his core. His thoughts were muddled. The house key in his grip wouldn't slide into the lock, but it was the right key; it had to be the right key. It was so small that it could have been worn as a pendant, or on a watch chain and kept in a waistcoat pocket. "This is the key, To-ya," he mumbled. It wasn't the right answer to the question that his friend had asked, but it was the only thought that Yukito had. "This...". He stared at the metal doorlatch, which was reflecting the feeble sunlight. The sun had set and was almost gone. Twilight was cold and night would be colder; the boys had to get sheltered indoors soon. The key adamantly refused insertion in the lock.

Touya's hands wrapped around Yukito's hand that was holding the key. He turned Yukito's hand over, gently, until the key was repostitioned, upside-down from the way that the pale haired boy had been holding it. He was standing behind Yukito's shoulder, the taller boy's chest pressing against a double layer of sweaters because Touya had given his up to Yukito, selflessly generous as Touya always was. Yukito could hear Touya's thin breaths close to his ear. The key fit and turned, and the door pushed open.

The boys shuffled into the dark interior. They closed the door behind them in a hurry to shut out the cold. They succeeded in shutting out the wind and the light, but the air inside was still chilled enough to be a refrigerator. Yukito's eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness. Touya swayed in place, either still waiting for his sight to catch up with the lack of light, or because he didn't have the energy to move. Their breaths made hazy clouds in a long room with curtained windows. There were two more doorways that Yukito could not see beyond and a fireplace, coldly empty at the room's end. The furnishings were sparse: an lumpy, red armchair by the window, a narrow, stiff looking sofa with an end table barely big enough for the antiquated lamp squatting on it, and a bookcase with too much space for the few books perched on its shelves. Yukito moved away from the door, and Touya shuffled after him.

"Not much... warmer in here," Touya commented in a low voice.

"We can make a fire," suggested Yukito. Rubbing his arms and stopping his feet to try to get some warmth back, he crossed to investigate the fireplace. An iron stand beside it held a few meager pieces of wood and some thin kindling.

Touya sat slowly onto the sofa. "There might... be... matches...". When his thought trailed off without finishing, Yukito went to him with concern. Yukito reached over to the lamp and twisted the knob, but no light came on. The lamp wasn‘t electric. "...in the kitchen," Touya sighed, finally. Touya was in bad shape, Yukito realized. He was so used to Touya's strength that he hadn't seen how being caught out in inadequate clothing had gone beyond discomfort for Touya. The young man slumped; he looked as if he was about to fall asleep, sitting up, in his wet clothing.

Yukito hurried to the fireplace. While he stacked in the little bit of wood and kindling, the wind wailed down the ventilation shaft, rattling the flu. The space was so big, and the little pile for the fire so small. “To-ya,” he said, going back, “When I get the fire started, we will have to sit close to it. I’m going to look for those matches. Don’t fall asleep, okay?” The young man’s answering nod was slow but definite.

The house was enormous and empty except for a stale chill. Luck was with Yukito, because he found a kitchen in the first direction that he searched. I have to get Touya warm he thought to himself as he opened one empty drawer after another. Touya always takes care of me, but he gives too much. His luck was short lived. Each drawer and cabinet that he opened was bare of anything but dust.

Room after room, the house gave evidence that it was forgotten and uninhabited. Yukito still shivered in spite of the pace of his search. He unearthed a bedroom where the bed was draped in a moth-eaten coverlet of wine dark plush. He bundled it into his arms and ran back down a winding stairway to return to Touya.

Touya had pulled away one of the heavy curtains to let a little light into the room. The window was made of small, beveled panels. Touya was slumped in the red armchair, looking out through the window into a kaleidescope of crystal and silver. There was a garden. Under the whip of wind and icy rain were frozen shapes with a glint like sapphire daggers. It was a dead garden, blasted by harsh winter.

With the thin blue of twilight falling on it, Touya’s face showed a ghastly pallor. His cheeks and gray lips were chapped and dry looking; his eyes were red; his look was unfocused. Yukito dropped the rumpled cloth bundle at his feet. He hesitated, then bent his head down until his forehead touched Touya’s forehead. His skin was clammy.

Yukito didn’t want to pull away. For a moment that lingered, he let their breaths mingle. “You don’t have a fever, but your skin is really cold.” He moved his hands decisively from Touya’s shoulders to the buttons of Touya’s soaked shirt. “You’ll be warmer under the blanket without your shirt,” he reasoned aloud. “I’ll help you with it.” Touya did not protest. Yukito loosened the cuffs and peeled the sticky shirt away. Quickly, he pulled the edge of the musty coverlet up over the young man’s bare skin. Then Yukito took a few steps away to put the shirt over the back of the sofa. Without looking at his friend, Yukito stripped himself of his sweater layers. Both were soggy. He felt better without them, but the nip of the air in the room chased him under the other end of the fuzzy bedcover. He shivered against Touya’s damp jeans and the frigid floor.

“Yuki. Come up here.”

Yukito looked at the small, waiting space that Touya had made for him in the chair. “Okay,” he said softly. He couldn’t hold back the sigh that escaped him when he snuggled in next to Touya and skin touched skin. It felt good, ridiculously good, to touch him, and Touya pulled their bodies closer together. Their faces brushed against each other. Using the justification to himself that he had to get Touya warm, Yukito rubbed his hands briskly over Touya’s shoulders and back. “You’re so cold, To-ya.”

“Yuki.” Touya’s exhalation sent a shiver coursing through Yukito. “You feel good.” His big hands pulled the volumous cloth more securely around their close bodies.

Yukito’s hands stopped. The boys were chest-to-chest. Yukito was afraid to lift his chin, which would bring his mouth level with Touya’s lips. He swallowed the tightness in his throat. It fell into his gut and dropped lower as it became a deep heat. This was his fantasy, the thing he had wished for so often: to be holding Touya closely. Still to shy to lift his head, he lowered it instead againt the other boy’s chest and listened to the resounding heartbeat.

Then he felt strong fingers sifting through his hair. They caressed the fringe around his face and the top of his head. He closed his eyes; he didn’t move. Nothing had ever felt so good as this.

Nothing more happened for a long time, until lips, dry but warm, gently pressed against Yukito’s forehead. He felt them brush with tenderness, nudging aside his bangs. They traveled with a touch that was not quite a kiss, moving along his temple, to the corner of his eye. A hand moved off of his back and lifted his chin up. With his eyes still closed, Yukito’s lips connected to the strong, warm lips that sought his in a slow kiss.

He didn’t want to speak, but his heart was so full that he had to ask. “Is this what you’ve wanted, too?” Being held felt wonderful. Being loved… could he be loved?

Touya’s voice was soft, almost distant. It was full of the caring that Yukito always had wanted to hear. Yet he didn’t say, I love you. Instead, with his arms cradling Yukito in a careful embrace, he said, "Figure it out."

Outside, the wind and rain howled.

-y-y-y-

Parallel

2006-07-04T17:17:41Z

CCS Fanfic
412 words

A feather of sparkling light shimmered in the the night sky. The disappearing glitter of the pyrotechnics looked like falling, colored stars, the only evidence of their earthly origin a thin cloud of smoke drifting above the trees of Penguin Park. Another firework exploded, this one as round as a chrysanthemum. The rooftop offered a wonderful view, Yukito thought. Even if it was a little dangerous, there was no need to worry about Sakura because Kero was watching over her, and the little sorceress had used Fly to give herself wings. Yukito leaned out the window, his elbows on the window sill, and watched more fireworks brighten the night. He glanced at Sakura. She was entranced; he could see the glitter reflected in her wide eyes. Kero’s small body leaned against her with his head contentedly resting against her bent leg.

The Master of the Clow and the Guardian Beast of the Seal were a little girl and her plush doll, on the rooftop of a surburban house in a peaceful neighborhood of a quiet town.

The memory wasn’t his, but Yukito saw it as clearly as if he had lived it himself. Keroberos, the jewels in his armor shining in the light of the campfire, had his head cradled in Clow’s lap while the sorcerer looked upward. Stars were falling in quick sucession, a meteor shower on a chilled autumn night. It had always been easy for Keroberos. But then, it hadn’t been difficult for Yue to find his place on his maker’s opposite side. Yue sat closely next to Clow and let his head fall against the sorcerer’s shoulder. Clow, who had been harvesting medicinal ingredients, smelled briney and wet but not entirely unpleasant. The contact warmed Yue more than the fire.

Uncounted years later, Sakura watched the night sky with the same expression of delighted wonder. She rested her small hand against Kero’s shoulder with affection, and the parallel was remarkable though not perfect.

Yukito didn’t break her attention to ask her if she wanted the hot chocolate that her brother was preparing. In a few minutes, Touya would bring the tray upstairs with cups for all of them, and together they would drink the steamy beverage to fortify themselves against the cold first night of January. Nor did he climb out to sit beside her. He would wait for Touya, lean against Touya’s strong chest, and breath his warm scent. It was, after all, a new year.

"Song"

2006-07-02T04:44:23Z

.Song.

I have been crowned with a tiara,
but even on my jeweled days
the tigers steal my finery.
Eyes like emeralds, teeth like ivory,
they come out of the darkness to rend and tear
the silk of my dreams with its fragile seams,
and naked in an unkind jungle I am left
to find an ending for the fairytale of me,
the fable in which my history is dressed.

You shouldn't follow where my foxfire leads.
It doesn't burn to illuminate your way
or give you heat with its phantom light.
The folklore that is familiar will reveal
that when you get close, my beauty falls away,
so leave me cackling in the river reeds,
spitting curses at the empty night.

You crown me with a flower at my ear.
Now do I owe your promise
to the monster in the castle maze?
My tears of diamonds, falling in the amber light,
don't pay for release or for a measure of peace
or passage across the river.
You aren't putting my mythology to rest
or keeping me from the calling of the waves
if you steal my sealskin and lock it in a chest;
You are putting my immortality in a grave.

I already know to make the tigers run,
their melted gold like straw, so pretty;
I know a kiss can break a spell,
and I've already slept for a century,
but when I give you my secrets
it's not your story to tell.
You might have the details wrong
because I'm not the princess.

"Close"

2006-06-29T02:47:29Z

...Close...

Across this distance
you call to me, hello
and I reply in kind
hello, friend
The wires and currents carry
pulses of affection
clearer than an echo over
this miles-deep canyon of distance
I call to you
hello
Drink your morning tea
pass me the sun
and your thoughts
And my returning wave will bring
my bottled message
So much more than hello
invisible
while it travels
So much more than hello
unsaid across the distance
I will follow, soon.

{little smile}
~~~ ~~~ ~~~