Sunday, November 30, 2014


                                                  photo: Denise Jordan Finley

what is on the outside of the Order
we make for ourselves?
what fragile dreams Abide
outside the dark interiors of the spirit?

the Mysteries aren’t afforded
by the priestly class
but exist at the edges of vision
through a glass frosted
by the breath of prayer
by the music of the heart the hearth
the heat of Life shared
songs offered
community restored

walk out into that white world
cloaked in diamond sparkling ice
breath visibly rising to the firmament
by us all

© 2014 pamela twining

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

dinner in the boneyard

a light snow falls on the day before Gathering begins
more than a state sanctioned permission to gorge on food football family and friends
an instinct to gather and celebrate survival
the taming of the wilderness – ah, yes! there’s the rub!
celebrations of exterminations
the arrogant purposeful destruction of an indigenous race of people
in the name of Destiny and divine profit
our groaning tables weighing on the stones the bones
of the descendants of this land – “cut the bird & pass the mashed potatoes!”
what are you thankful for this year? too many things? or do you have to think hard?

the weight of betrayal sits heavy on the brow
of a celebration that should honour a communion
not built on broken promises
and the sorrows of a civilization not known or understood
convert or kill primitive slave material
driven out annihilated at the altar of Moloch!

and then here comes the new Pope, Francis
speaking words i never expected to hear from a Pope of the Catholic Church
and the conspiracy theorist in me has a million questions
why now?
why so antithetical to ratzinger? and why did ratzinger resign?
Popes don’t ever resign!
equivalent to the disgraced businessman/politician
who leaves his job to Spend More Time with his Family
but Pope Francis, Pope Frank
 the Workingman’s Pope the Champion of the Poor the Scourge of the 1%
(they must be Stammering!
  so unable to verbally abuse the Pope
  who is saying everything that must be anathema
  to the last more 40 years!)
and thinking people must Fear for him!
the trust (there is none)
is breaking between the governors and the governed
the threads unravel day by day like an old ship’s cable
rusting untwisting rotting separating from the whole the body politic  
turning back on Moloch has ever been at one’s peril

a meal with loved ones can never pay the price of blood
but we acknowledge that the fertility of our present lives
depends on that ancient sacrifice
 the food we eat
grown in the soil of those massacres
both bitter and sweet, the fruits of our Pride
we eat and drink and laugh at the Gathering time
to celebrate the Future on the bones of our Great Fault
how to honour the lost ones?
tell the story! break the myth!
reparations are due!

what can blindness ask of us but deeper insight?

Tuesday, March 18, 2014


for Barbara

I laughed at Death again today
I laughed as only Life can laugh
snatched tomorrow from the jaws
of the bone collector
burning torment music scorching veins
the Dance not done the feet still pound
the red road, swirling cosmic dust
not bound to Earth so much
as leaping flying through 
the round of days

Fell sorcerer wielding wand of endless sleep
sends Winter's Aweful minions riding Hard
down frozen corridors of time unspoken
screaming imprecations 
hooves striking blue steel sparks 
from her milkless breast
they aim to take us Down
but at last moment we dodge aside
wresting bubbling Springtime 
from the mouths of their Dreadful weapons
and chuckling rills guffawing mountains
dancing hillsides clothe themselves again
in vibrant hued defiance

creating the universe again and again
from a wisp of idea to the plunge 
over the lip of the abyss
a Thousand tiny deaths!
a Hundred Thousand!

grasping at Life like the ring 
on the merry go round
following golden promise and
I laugh at Death, not hubris
Celebration of the life and love
of this here/now
born again in every instant
Explosions among the planets
giving birth to Stars

© 2014 pamela twining

Tuesday, March 4, 2014


it’s one for the ages
a hundred years a hundred times
and more
to live in memory to go forward
in the world unsheathed
in flesh
the bones of stories left under trees
eyes empty bruised with tales
that whisper in the leaves
like silk
like sandpaper
deep ache of stillness forced

silence stretched beyond bearing
No Words

who can hear anguish on the swirling squall
who can taste the gagging liquid
the honeyed phrases
truths unvarnished
cassandra’s awful words belling
in the hollows of history?

will you be known by what was not heard
remembered for no thing
celebrated in your absence
sung in nonsense syllables
slipping down the rabbit hole
of forgotten dreams?

or is that light
shining through the windows
eliminating space
collapsing orbs of consciousness
in upon each other
the variegated luminous beams
of early dawn amongst encroaching green
is that light
a rebirth that the motes will tell
in dancing dusty urgencies
everything that must be remembered?

i leave my bones
my eyes and flesh picked clean by the dakini
wrathful worms
eaters of the past
dark consumers who enable the light to shine
i leave my  words
my tempest travailed tortured musings
my golden whiffs of cosmic beauty
whatever deliberations seemed important
at the time

weightless in the afterworld
the idea of self
remembered and forgotten and remembered
the mysteries of life pulse
in the blood
and of my blood
mortals grow forth upon the land
and each is Memory and each is Spark!

© 2013 pamela twining

Tuesday, February 4, 2014


and eve rose from the deep
from lemuria
long lost
buried in Ocean’s terrible roar
when cities slid beneath the waves

the fire rising from the core
soft skin just broken through to life
She awakens
and Crone dissolves in last of winter’s mist
not letting go easily

but She awakens
this fire will not be denied