| Title |
Excerpt |
Author |
Date |
# Comments |
Recent Comment |
| The Old Druid |
Oh, to be a butterfly riding waves of wind. I am the Butterfly, she is me. We are One, we are Free. Butterfly, she dances for a grandmother conifer, drawing my eye to her. To the Druid, the Mighty Oak is King, but the Pine Tree does it for me.… |
Kathryn Preston |
09/05/10 |
0 |
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| Wanton Irish Faerie |
I see people encased in fearful shells living lives of tripping-tedium, embedded in the ordinary. Mine, however, is the vast, dark sky and the spaces between the stars. Unencumbered by riches or materialism: Mine is the promise of Magic. I see no reason to live other than to be free.… |
Kathryn Preston |
04/03/10 |
0 |
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| Flowing Through the Unicorn’s Horn |
Angels sigh with dewy breath the scent of jasmine as I surrender to this quasi-death and ritual resurrection. As I lay me down to sleep reality melts away, and flames in my soul do leap while breathing into the cauldron of my womb. Behind closed lids, the third eye perceives… |
Kathryn Preston |
03/23/10 |
0 |
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| Intoxication of Illusion |
The magical prescence manifesting mirrors the poet-picasso-passion-power invested in me by a universe experiencing ecstatic intimacy through this heavenly body and my divine polarity. Cosmic counterparts coupling, uniting, inviting primal explosions: portals of expanding consciousness; transcending, transforming, transporting by penetrating deep within the world-womb, the source of knowing, the secret-soul-center,… |
Kathryn Preston |
02/15/10 |
0 |
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| Dreaming a Life into Being |
Perched like an apprentice owl on a contemplative birch bench in a secret riverine alcove, she closes her eyes, peering into the abyss within, seeking an image, a symbol, to guide her on her quest. In her mind’s eye the purple mist conjures visions of a luminous swan, gliding with… |
Kathryn Preston |
01/25/10 |
0 |
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| Shakti and Shiva |
Lying beside you, my arm draped across your chest, my leg snuggled in your thigh, I feel the rhythmic heaving and sinking of your belly, like waves on an intimate inland lake, flowing in consistent, concentric circles: disciplined in design yet undulating with a soft sensuality that brushes aside my… |
Kathryn Preston |
09/27/07 |
0 |
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| Call to her |
From the shackles of our subconscious, Love is pleading, screaming, begging, for release. The opposite of love is lack of, which is insanity, but not the root of all evil. Evil is the lack of consciousness that we are love. Truth is, we are bundles of love before we’re born.… |
Kathryn Preston |
08/25/07 |
0 |
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| Memorial Day-Ute Cemetery or Apology to Ryan |
Within the air we breathe, oxygen molecules, once exhaled by this Civil-War-soldier become-a-particle-of-dust, blow into my nostrils walking through Ute cemetery. A sign reads: “area of restoration.” Surely, a cosmic joke. Even in death loved ones built fences round the mound that once was spirit in the flesh. Similarly, we… |
Kathryn Preston |
08/25/07 |
0 |
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| Conjuring Love |
When a man offers orchids he intends to seduce, for their shape is reminiscent of the womb. If he intends to mine the mysteries of the deep and discover the hidden folds of my soul, he should offer Lilly of the Valley, for when moonlight shines upon them, the nightingale… |
Kathryn Preston |
08/25/07 |
1 |
08/27/07 |
| The Ghost of Downtown Northwest D.C. |
She’s the ghost of downtown northwest D.C. Gothic Shaman, Madonna in blackface. Dragging her death-drapes outside society, beyond reality. She sings and shouts her free-street-speech, invoking urban-tribal rhythms at aware but wary passersby. Averted eyes, leering gazes, some ignoring, others scolding. Tell me, who has lost their humanity? Who is… |
Kathryn Preston |
06/23/07 |
0 |
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| Sleep’s Soliloquy |
Pining for her piper, who’s composing passion’s play. She’s longing for his star song like a maiden in the hay. The tune that leaves her swooning, the tune of this crooning, Appalachian balladeer. In her loins she feels hunger and pain, will the lightning ever pierce the rain? With ruby… |
Kathryn Preston |
06/23/07 |
0 |
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| Revolution of Spirit Rap |
The chapters of your life are rife with ego, but greater than the ego is the soul. Your humanity may just be your current starring role in a whole play about the way, the way we grow our soul. So, my friend, as you end this scene and begin again,… |
Kathryn Preston |
06/23/07 |
0 |
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