*Friedrich Ohly, “Dew and Pearl: A Lecture,” in Sensus Spiritualis: Studies in Medieval Significs and the Philology of Culture, ed. with an Epilogue by Samuel P. Jaffe, trans. Kenneth Northcott (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 2005), pp. 234-50.
On pearls as made by oysters from dew, see Pliny the Elder, Natural History, bk. 9, chap. 35.
A Pearl of Great Price
by Rachel Fulton Brown
Prose explains itself. Poetry bemuses,
manifest in its pentameters yet
veiled in its significance, like a pearl
hidden in an oyster, mystic, divine.
I read an article this afternoon*
about the death of inspiration, how
poets no longer look to heaven but
only within, their wounded souls the source
of all their musings. Once upon a time
they prayed to God, opening their minds, shell-like,
to the stars, as oysters awaiting the dew.
Now, however, we no longer believe
in dew-dropped pearls, wedding heaven and earth
at their confection. Pearls, we say, are like
scabs, the oyster’s self-protection against
invasion, excretions of nacreous
goo, hardly the stuff of poetry. Alas,
cold hard facts win. The spiritual sense
dies like shrimp in the oyster’s briny maw,
enveloped by the hard coating of science,
and poetry with it. Sing, Muse, of heaven’s
kingdom—but the pearl-strewn path is gone, swept
away not so much by knowledge as by
poetry’s dependence on the oyster’s truth.
— January 8, 2009
As they climbed the staircase and ascended,
Chasing the Alchemical Dragon
by KJ Crilly
In Pharmakeia’s pixelated world,
which holds the fractal myths of times gone by,
the Dragon’s whispered lies slowly unfurl,
to captivate men in his mirrored eye,
suspended seventh heaven ever nigh.
But one comes now, intending to restore
the world with a creative battle cry.
And who is this, this reconquistador,
this champion, come to take our part in this Art War?
— May 24, 2023
Mathematic Rivalry
by KJ Crilly
She was in thrall to esoteric signs;
symbology and little charms and fate,
the currency in all her grand designs,
accelerated her excited state.
It was a frivolous but harmless trait,
or so he hoped while calculating times.
“The thoroughbreds will soon be at the gate.”
He thought about statistic paradigms
and placed her wager to subdue her frantic mind.
— June 6, 2023
Sleepwalking through the Apocalypse
by KJ Crilly
A lone Mad Hatter parceled out black pearls
on Commerce Street’s dystopian remains.
Under the streetlamp, shades of Van Gogh swirls
ignited in the fever of their brains,
and courséd through the longing in their veins.
These lost boys cued with hopes of getting well
and circled ’round the block like human chains.
They were the system’s favorite clientele,
oblivious to Pharmakeia’s magic spell.
—June 13, 2023
the bears saw crystal shapes carved in the frost;
Chronicles
by Mel Wiggin
Make sure to ready your candle!
The end will be hard to handle.
Better pass the test
on the day of rest,
kneel before the Tabernacle.
All knees shall bow to His Splendor.
Let His Mother be your mentor!
Be a humble wife,
key to joy in life!
Behold, Thy Heavenly Treasure.
Light, like the trees of Paradise,
Almighty Bright One’s sacrifice
repairs the bungle.
Was the fruit fungal?
A mushroom? Eve knew no malice.
Praying to attain indulgence
inhibits truthful divulgence.
Say the rosary,
give joy to Mary!
Crown her with golden refulgence!
Fill the temple with His presence;
all spills out, light, smoke, and incense.
Book of Chronicles,
more Tabernacles,
symbolic Heaven—opulence.
Strength and beauty, sanctuary,
loving must be voluntary!
God gave us free will.
Christ! One cannot kill
fruit of the womb—Virgin Mary.
Glorious pillars of mountain
hold up the ceiling, veil curtain.
Jesus’ ascension,
ladder descension,
angels go to and fro’ Heaven.
Sun, moon, and stars, all vaulted in,
birds fly unaffected by spin?
Covenantal arch
the flame of love Spark!
Lifted from this realm—Assumption.
Forgive us our debts, Jubilee!
Give us Justice and Liberty!
The Holy Bright One,
His beloved Son!
Pray for Hope, Love, and Charity!
— September 30, 2021
Necropolis Now
by Mel Wiggin
Haunted by sins of omission,
possessed by the red magician,
an apocalypse
is now in our midst,
hunted by the Leviathan.
Slender like an ouroboros,
hunger for children like Chronos;
poison the weak mind,
of urban mankind;
revelation of Thy cosmos.
Eyes blazed, casting the Hypnosis,
DNA Metamorphosis!
Brain-stealing dragon,
evil Abbadon,
lost surrendered metropolis.
Using the blood of innocent,
torpedoing the firmament,
a mass hypnosis,
new necropolis,
obfuscating this incident.
He did it all so subtly,
winning over everybody.
They allowed him in
to my great chagrin
for material vanity.
Nothing to fear but fear itself!
It is not caring for our health;
the hive mind flayer
needs a host player,
slave for profits, and unearned wealth.
The new enemies of the State
reject false controls of our fate.
Ears tickling spell,
unafraid of hell,
the many choose the wider gate.
Elder brain stole the media,
obscuring apophenia.
A hypnotic spice
turned men into mice,
obsessed with imports from Asia.
How to help our long-lost brethren?
Our goal is not to abandon
buildings or cities,
their amenities,
but welcome them into Heaven.
You can't hear the Apollyon?
The monstrous, chittering dragon!
Repentant of sin,
only Christ within,
living outside of Babylon.
Slay the Leviathan on sight!
Armor of Christ—clothed for fight!
Off with dragon’s head,
praying for the dead,
Judgement Day—be children of Light!
— October 11, 2021
drops of sun and with them snowflakes blended
Black Ark
by Kilts Khalfan
The Temple Maid upon the hallowed earth,
her providence to Logos resonate.
Purest sound in royal Virgin Birth,
the sonic God revealed in mortal state.
The Light of Christ in Glory incarnates;
as psalms were strung by David on the lyre,
so Virgin Mother sings Davidic praise.
As Shunamite, she wailed in pure desire;
Black Ark of God: her holy body tree or fire.
—December 8, 2021
Vessel of the Lord
by Rachel Fulton Brown
“Hail, Mary!” — cue the chorus of the ’net.
“She’s nothing but a vessel for the Lord.
It’s foolish to expect her to offset
the sins with which her mother Eve was tarred.
There’s nothing in the Bible that I’ve heard
to make me want to risk my soul for her.
Her soul was just like ours — a clay-bound shard,
coal-black, just like the light of Lucifer.”
And yet He came to earth to shine for us through her.
— December 8, 2021
into a crystal bridge with archways crossed.
Dragon Tryptich
by Kilts Khalfan
— February 21, 2022
Dragon Song, by Cheryl Butler-Drake and Rachel Fulton Brown — February 28, 2020
Archspider of the Interwebs, by the Dragon Common Room — February 3, 2021
Milo Electric, by the Dragon Common Room — November 24, 2021
Pigeon Cloud, by the Dragon Common Room — February 23, 2022
Abortion Games: The Lady Priest, by Rachel Fulton Brown and Cheryl Butler-Drake — June 27, 2022
Halloween Militant, by KJ Crilly — October 31, 2022
The God Above, We Love, by Mel Wiggn — November 1, 2022
Dragon’s Hoard, by KJ Crilly — May 24, 2023
The Sign of Six, by KJ Crilly — June 6, 2023