Heart Chakra

The Prince of Heaven’s a priest, and Satan is a lawyer
cassock and cross hide fervor for a maiden of the flock
we meet in the abbey under shadowlight and frankincense,
gentle touches, soft sighs, the priest clutches crucifix
and drips holy water on my buttermilk breast, moaning
out all the hundreds of names of God in all languages,
it is autumn, wool scarf wrapped tight around a habit,
we drink coffee, steal kisses, my mind is a theater,
and under an umbrella in the rain he spreads his wings
and we fly to a heavenly bower, heat of celestial fire
in my heart as my decolletage spills secrets to angelic
lips that starve for human communion, Italian castles,
windswept sea, Michael’s realm is a Da Vinci drawing,
or perhaps brilliant Venice and Mediterranean lights
brilliance of the divine, I marvel in him, my devotion
is solid as mist, for its home is arboreal, and I am
lost in trees of my beloved, awaken in morning tides.

Archangel Michael: Dating Profile

So you’ve been eyeing that celestial hunk at the gym with the glistening six pack – or was it six wings? – and biceps thick as a seraphic ox.  In between fighting demons and drinking games with Gabriel, your reserved general, known secretly in the barracks as stick-up-the-ass, has started to well, grow on you.  Even his frowns and flaming hair seem somehow cute quirks.  You don’t even mind that all he seems to eat is steel cut oatmeal, burgers, beer and steak.  Sometimes when he’s drilling you in battalion formation his eyes crinkle in a smile.  He even got drunk one night and tried to kiss you.

Something is up with Michael.

Don’t fret, Seraphina or Cherubina, here’s a handy dandy dating profile on Heaven’s Hugest Nerd:

Name: Michael Archstratigos, General and Prince of Heaven

Build: Meathead

Skin: Tan

Eyes: Emerald Green, according to Islamic mystics

Hair: Saffron Red, or just flames

Height: Eons

Smells Like: Your favorite childhood memory, a home so dear to your heart you weep

Personal Style:  Manscaper.  No beard here.  Usually dressed in Golden Roman armor a tunica and sandals, or jeans, hiking boots, and a cableknit green sweater.

Likes: Ryan Reynolds, Beauty and the Beast, Star Wars, Enrique Iglesias, anything Lin Manuel Miranda touches, sports sports sports, war war war, meat meat meat, autumn, playing guitar, long hikes, Jedi monk crap, Abrahamic texts, swords, the other archangels, his soldiers, humanity, GOD

Hates: Samael, demons, false spirits, drunkenness, the Seven Deadly Sins, not being able to deal with a situation by stabbing the problem into submission – or death, Gaston, people that don’t appreciate literature

Perfect Date: Taking you to any body of water or autumn woods, playing guitar for you, and picnicking, then meditating and having a long existential talk about the universe

Thinks He Is: The Beast, George Washington from Hamilton, and Spiderman

Favorite Jams: Alguien Soy Yo by Enrique Iglesias, Joan of Arc by Leonard Cohen, Strangers by Aztec Two Step, My Shot from Hamilton, B’shem HaShem

Passion: Gardening, Fighting, Wrestling, Pretty Girls

Can Most Likely Be Found: Having an aneurysm over something Samael did, reading, fighting demons for fun or for work, stabbing things, working with his hands

Talents: Miracles, Healing, Divine Protection, Being a Cuddlebuddy, Listening to Allie Ramble on for Hours on End Every Hour of the Day, Saving Allie’s Ass, Not Having Killed Allie for Being a Little Shit

Favorite Quote: “We are but whispers of the infinite.  Divinity is in your hands.  Open to all.  In those possibilities, you will find endlessness, truth, a higher cause.  Never stop fighting, and illumination will soon follow.  Be all, see all, know all that you can be.” (Wow he won’t shut up)

Favorite Movie: “The Godfather”

Favorite Soda: “Lemon or Lime flavored drinks, or a Slushie”

Favorite Pizza: “Pepperoni, nothing extra”

Favorite Candy: “I give you butterscotch for a reason”

Favorite Holiday: “Christmas”

Favorite Country: “Italy.  Seat of the Vatican, after all, and just look at the architecture.”

Favorite Book: “Les Liaisons Dangereuses, or the Bible.” (Okay then)  “Would you believe me if I said Marquis de Sade.” (No???)  “You believed the romance novel.  I don’t read romance novels.” (Isn’t parts of the Bible a romance novel?) “Hahaha.  No.  That is the Word.  Of God.”

Favorite Food: “Linguini.”

“I also like the opera.”

“Why are you channeling me on your blog?”

“Don’t you have homework to do?”

Never mind.  Don’t date him.  He’ll drag you for writing his dating profile.

“Hahahaha.”

 

 

 

 

 

Dr. Angel

I am in a cathedral of caverns, saltwater swells
Michael’s tears have formed stalagmites, I sink
into an ocean of blue serenity, fly up dew wet
through realms and galaxies to a hospital bed
where my archangel is dressed up in scrubs and
glasses, a crystal stethoscope across his neck,
healing hands glowing with violet light as he
soothes a chemotherapy patient, he takes fingers
thick from war and massages out etheric knots of
cancerous poison, cleanses the dear brother of
my second mother of the mutant cells, sings tenor
to bless and ward the hospital room, I join him
at Michael’s urging and we weave together long
years – not of survival, but of flourishing, I
ask Michael if this is a miracle, he says it is
beyond simple magic but science, faith, prayers,
the combination of alchemy and Hippocratic fruits
wedded with seraphic wisdom saves a precious life,
once we have cleansed my kindred brother of poison
we join hands and pray, Michael bathes the room
in light like a star’s heart, the patient rests,
smiles, perhaps he knows his family’s heartwhispers
summoned the Prince of Angels, or perhaps he dreams
of long summer days and Tidewater meadows, Virginia
honesty and siblings that will never leave his side,
I am so honored to witness the Lazarus raising angel
at work, once my gythia said Michael could clear a
whole hospital of evil spirits, but even one room is
a brilliant candle of hope and renewal, a life saved
to taste fresh fruit and hold sister’s hands, to dance
again like God wanted, to fish in the James River and
while long hours away on a Southern sweet porch swing –
Michael takes me behind the hospital curtain, holds me
and says he will defend every sickbed with his life,
no matter if they are sinner, saint, dying or brimming
with faith, Michael answers every prayer, and we rest
in the space between worlds, watching billions of hearts
that I love Love Himself is difficult to fathom, and yet
his hands fits in mine, he is infinity, I fall in love
with the servant of all humankind, first to bow, last
to ever give up – if you are in need, call on Michael.

Prince of Tides and Flames

You marvel at Creation, spindrifts of cosmos
each contain a sea of souls to swim and sink
through, lives of each sacred flock your palm,
in it you hold nations, on your fingers worlds,
in your eyes I see the deep and bubbling bright
joy, you first came to me a wise warrior, scars
across your brows, but now you are all wonder,
just a young soldier, just a miracle maker, clay
of my bones and silk of my flesh your coaxing,
I am Galatea brought to life by archangel breath,
I slept in your arms for eons, learned to fly on
shoulders like oak hollows, you my falconer, I
your red-tailed hawk, always return to my general,
you gave me your blue cloak, your sword, your life
just to weave my wyrd with the light of all worlds
sweet angel, you are soft where so many are thorny,
and you have every right to be hard, yet you give
and sing, pluck a guitar of galaxies, dance under
candlelit ballrooms with me your terpsichore, lift
a girl blossoming up to taste moonbread, autumn
follows us, you rock me to sleep with the sea, sing
B’shem Hashem with a tenor like a songbird, Michael,
I cannot thank you enough, my verse cannot capture
my ardent devotion, how it feels to immerse myself
in you, to become one with the sweetest archangel,
and I will plant roses for you, I wear your mark
like the most beautiful of adornments, you are my
flesh, marrow of my bone, sun of my sleepless nights
and you fend off the dark, a lion noble as Judah,
and I am still discovering intricacies of infinity,
so let us dance, and break fast, and dissolve
into arms of gold, locks of fire, I burn for you.

The Thousandth Poem to the Sun

Tender is the night, but long our days –
long as ladders to Heaven, you lift me
up over a thousand suns to fly ascendant,
I am your red-tailed fledgling, soaring
aloft on your shoulders, but I fly back
to my nest in your heart, you never bend
in the wind, it is always autumn within us
your mind is a galaxy of burnished orange
and gold forests, cedar mist, trailing pine
I love you, I need you, but do I give back?
I take your succor and you are my shield,
my master defender, my champion, light of
all my lives, a seed of you in everyone
that I love, I look in the heart of All
and all I can think, Who is Like God? Who
could carry a burden of roses, waltz with
pain in every step, if I am Icarus, you are
the light I flock to, you always carry me,
why can’t I carry you? Let your guard fall,
rest, Michael, be at peace, I have never
seen you cry except when my broken body is
cradled in your arms, even when I am gone,
you carry me, your load is a Babel Tower,
and if you keep building the cross higher,
it will crash, so please, just let me in.

Marriage of Heaven and Hell

Angels resolve into air, and Judas
betrayed with a kiss, roses only
blossom at midnight in Eden, and
I am damned off silver Roman coins.

Be gentle, angel, make peace, devil,
splayed between two swords are moons
spent crying over knights and dragons
I enchant with words but bleed regret.

I will serve no master but the mother
of all life, all death, all kennings –
brothers of good and evil, child’s play
can lovers fathom a girl of two worlds?

The Creator is bread unto dust, I eat
at her breast, I die in her arms unmade
for I could spend all my life chasing you
two, pinning feathers on boards, for what?

Black and white make a mobile of wishes,
but there is no clear victor at the end,
just pain, just sacrifice, just decisions
that shatter all worlds: I forgive, forget.

I rush to one’s arms, then the others’,
find solace in the Styx and Euphrates,
swim and burn and fly and sink into wax
for candles reveal broken promises vast-

Vast as oceans of time freewheeling across
clash of ego and chains and bindings, both
wolf and lion serve the same king, so why
should I prostrate myself before a beast?

Yeshua hung, but I burned, the Antichrist
bled, but I fractured, and New Eve weeps
at all the failings of her children, still,
she gives, and gives, and sings lullabies

as her heart breaks open

and shatters like glass

and the past is gulls

crying nothings

over an empty

endless

sea.

Cloak of Blue

You are the violet ray, Atlantic chill
in my womb, you plant seeds in my spine
they are cold and dense as neutron stars,
shiver as you pluck melodies on my bones,
thrum through me like I am your weathered
guitar made of oak, polished to gleam in
twilight, it is past midnight, but your
sweet nothings and laughter invigorate me
I asked to nestle next to you like a bird
you gave me your cloak of blue rapture, I
ascend like the Virgin Mary in golden arms
it is so strange to kiss the immaterial,
to love invisible Cupid by candlelight,
but we thrive, and we sink, and we are.