HISTORY IS WRITTEN BY THE WINNER

Her face glows
from a pact made with
midnight incubi
to pass her bed
as God's Dark Angel
passed lamb's blood.
Her lips write a treaty with her heart
so it can't be
broken.
Her hands severe turmoil
as Moses
severed The Red Sea.
Her eyes engrave a knowledge
uncommon,
reflect in the flames
that purify
the heretic witch
who resides beyond our grasp.

SHIFT

The air shimmers like Lamee'.
Creaking cornstalk houses
bow on the gold breeze.
The field is full of
ripe chips
300 MHz
to be sold to Pentium
after harvest by the ants
in the light of lavender rain.
In their wake,
the earth smiles,
reality shifts,
soybeans flood the field,
and the ants go marching home
again.

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