Goddess Wept a Daydream | Lee Frankel-Goldwater

Image: Ksenia Yakovleva

Goddess Wept a Daydream
into echoes of silence and storm

Sarah danced through green grass
across a field, a river and rocky plains
gathered water from the well-springs,
bathed in starlight infused pools

Morsels of sweet grew on reeds
and beds made from its stalks
Beside the fresh baskets…
Fire spoke with moonlight
and sleep behind her eyes

Dreams of quiet leopards in the night
Raindrops petal upon thatch-top and stone
As light painted gently upon her eyes

Fresh air and dew
pooling water in baskets
whispers of times yet passed
the catch of small fish
she washed with root
and healed with twig
in devotion to spirit
and great grass sky

holding hands with the wind

Lee Frankel-Goldwater is a teacher and a poet seeking the sage’s path. He knows it’s about the journey, and yet dreams of the destination. One of peace, one of less fear, or worry, or shame for all. He believes there’s some good in this world worth fighting for, and prays that his every deed is made into this backdrop. Lee writes at the Writer’s Block, dances at Mi Chantli, and plays around Boulder, CO. He’s always ready for a story.

january edition / 2019

a look back on our january selections on south broadway ghost society.

photo: Danny Trujillo

girl and plane

poetry : :

lana bella : : five poems

ghost #117 : : eyes full of soul

lee frankel-goldwater : : mask and a flame

s. cearley : : the ghost in the machine

sam albala : : three poems

promise clutter : : they are under my comforter of stars

adrian s. potter : : midwestern meditation

the french destroyer bambara : : revolution #10

ghost #13 : : new balloon

ghost #4 : : where the color gets out

michael brockley : : the poet who keeps a stripper pole in her bedroom

jessie lynn mcmains : : our faithful, reckless hearts

shelby yaffe : : on bones

photo: Nick Sarro

where the color

short story : :

corwin moore : : challenger

ron burch : : struck horse

photo: Yener Ozturk

jen kolic

letter : :

jen kolic : : 12/15/09

 

mask and a flame – lee frankel-goldwater

mask n flame

I don’t know who I am,
I don’t know who you are,
I don’t know what we’re doing
… or why,
“So leave!” you say,
“If you’d rather not stay … ”
“But how?” I reply, (I do not know)
“I do not know from where I’ve come …
How can I know where to go?”
“It matters not to me.” (It matters not to me)
You say, a silence forms among the trees.

Inside my pocket lies a ring,
On top a scrap, beneath a crumb
I wear the ring, I open the scrap,
I nibble the sugary crumb.
It says, “only for you, only for you,
In haste to the 13th bower!”
Late, so late, I rushed, I came
I found on the bower a mirror
Lying beside a mask and flame
Covered in a dusting of snow
Mask and a flame, they lie beside
Covered in a dusting of snow
I pick them up, I know! I know!
“My penance is paid, I’m through!”

From then on, I went on, went on
wherever I wanted to.

ghost january

Lee FG is a poet, PhD student and traveler who throws fits of freestyle and prose like it matters. Travel writing is a favorite, calling on momentary evocations, the impressions of love and place, our differences, our quirky similarities. Prefers the mountains and tress, oceans and breeze to the urban hostilities. Find him around Boulder writing on the walls and always willing a share a tea and a smile.

Photo: Nathan Anderson