James Mullaney

Light flecked with gold enshrouds the Most Holy,
Mary - divine lodestar of creation -
Logos on her thigh throne, centered solely
on the awe and ever of salvation.
...

Who weeps for Jesus at the clutch of doom?
His mother, whose face most mirrors his face.
A sword has pierced her soul, so full of grace.
The wondrous youth who ambled in the coomb
...

Horsechestnut trees in my dreams, it seems;
Horsechestnut trees in my dreams.
Lizzie looks sexy in blue denim jeans -
Sexy as pie in those jeans, it seems;
...

When Mary swayed beneath that tree, she owned
the purest spirit mauled by purest spite
that wherefrom ever mournful music moaned;
and the gift - or the curse - of omnisight.
...

Deep inside a slumber I was woken
by Mary. It was my first rest in days.
I wrote down her words, those she had spoken.
Then I communicated, welling praise.
...

Woeful nights, the pure gold of Mary's faith
blazoned the brighter for the stillborn dread
that roiled inside like a nether wraith.
ON THE THIRD DAY HE AROSE FROM THE DEAD.
...

Autumn in Niagara Falls, spring in Rome,
Hawaii, Amsterdam, Portugal, France -
yet more romantic still our happy home
should you consent to dance this spirit-dance.
...

Scarred by two red gashes in ebony
the Black Madonna assays her demesne.
Still Poland's protectress, still Poland's Queen,
She safeguards and defends the history
...

While skeptics level magic arts to myth
and syllogism swears the truth it yields,
cauldrons of the cunning brew mandrake pith
and Beltan fires christen barley fields.
...

Your purple nightmare
peopled by neon hairless obscenities
fetid wretches groaning
and Pontiffs bitterly bemoaning a lost faith
...

Three Ming vases rusticate in a ring.
I choose one, for its simple garden scene
razes my poems to rice grass. Cardinals sing;
a beanpole fronts a lean-to; flutes flash clean.
...

Come naked night, come sawdust and tinsel,
pillow plush her footfall: My - our - 'Maitresse, '
Christina. Help a prince and a damsel
script a rogue Romeo's carnal distress.
...

Now drink mead to Ceres' agronomy -
you've plowed a sage into a country rube;
his solemn pretense of autonomy
felled by your hook like a fat wet jujube.
...

Pals picnic, Judas-kissed, all-forgiving,
wan as the blush and lavender cirrus -
august fraternity of the Living
plainchanting our supermarket peeress,
...

You cased not for sickly everlasting
banks of that noxious industrial creek.
But my blighted bracts, my corymb casting
seed in abhorrent air, my axis weak
...

For Hansel, Gretel's jazz slayed the dire wood.
Her native valor wowed the Brothers Grimm.
Their jaunt was vexed and fraught, Laura: a lewd
hag stirred bhang round and round a cauldron's brim.
...

The moon alone requited me tonight,
lit in a lissome apricot sarong
on the fenestella, waxed carmelite,
and wrapped her thighs around my evensong.
...

A snowy lodge lay nestled in the hills
where fragrant spruce pine scorched a fireplace;
a frosty crust whipped at the windowsills
and twilled a veil contrived of icy lace.
...

With every glass I pour a libation
from the still of worldly knowledge.
How eagerly you imbibe your desolation.
Of course: It's college.
...

SMACK! Shiny pavement's wet film,
divided line and 'Don't Walk's' reflection,
dull, gray, cold - and a cab.
Keep walking tho'.
...