by Allister Nelson

“‘Aging is death romancing / the body.’”

by Allister Nelson

“you are monolith of all my failings. the wet line of blood that crosscuts my ribs. what is the meaning of suffering, this caul of rebirth that happens each 31st?”

by Allister Nelson

“I, Greensleeve’d Anne, / Reign. / Know my name! / Know my name.”

by Allister Nelson

“I am too fat for Heaven / so I fell straight to Hell / I am too skinny for lava, / I drifted straight to Sheol.”

by Allister Nelson

“Come feast with the Devil / drink wine from grape’s wrath / trample the rosebush / and the primrose path.”

by Allister Nelson

“It’s not Zeus and Ganymede, / no Rape of Persephone, instead / it’s an operetta of stolen fire / of night clashes and star-flowers.”

by Allister Nelson

“Am I beautiful or am I wretched, / with poisoned brains and nightshade eyes. Are my / breasts fit for suckling changelings, will I be / the tithe to Hell? Or am I to be Midir’s bride, / a fluttering Etain caged in a box by Aengus Og.”

by Allister Nelson

“Yeshua stripped in the desert / was Caravaggio weaving light / out of shadow, lamb in sin.”

by Allister Nelson

“Bleed out slow, let old dreams flow / Like hourglass sand to depths below …”

by Allister Nelson

“Bleed out slow, let old dreams flow / Like hourglass sand to depths below …”

by Allister Nelson

“I wake up every day and want to die, / but in Hell, if you’re dead, where else / is there / to go?”

by Allister Nelson

“One must keep the fire burning, one must heat the poker. / And one is the flame-diver, dreaming / of snow.”

by Allister Nelson

“The Devil once said my soul was a black hurricane. /That every time I injured myself, I bled red gold.”

by Allister Nelson

“Little flower of Hell, where the clear creek / runs / …I go a witching down in the brine, digging / a stick through the mud.”

by Allister Nelson

“Raven rises from the bubbling concoction, / foul-winged and downy-chested with rain – / acid drips on the horizon.”

by Allister Nelson

“Washerwoman, sting with lye / Scrub away the exile, / Prince beneath, beneath the scale. / My binding is my wretchedness”

by Allister Nelson

“Gold were my days, when the long summer of my life / played out like reeds cut to form Pan’s pipe, a wild / child spread out across the meadows in quilted skirts.”

by Allister Nelson

“… caresses, phantom servants, a gauzy bed draped in silk where I spilled a single drop of wax.”

by Allister Nelson

“Mother never told me why flowers wither at frost’s first touch. / I watch my flesh crumble, I become the Bone Bride.”

by Allister Nelson

“The stars began to dance, like reflections in a pool. I gasped, watching as they mirrored the milk-white blooms. I plucked one, bringing it to my lips.”