Daphne Odora

Daphne Odora came into this world surrounded by the first snow iris blooming in the ruins of the once great rotunda where the rousting & roasting of the false Sky Prophet took place. That scal(l)awag. On the morning of her birth .. the turn of the whales had special meaning— a strange liturgy of myth and wind, breaking the wave patterns on the twelve holy shoals— paper-white & sparkling * in the near distance— crimped bees buzzed through the golden light as we collected the first mutter nectar just for you until the bent things trussed by their own chrysalis exploded all along the bulwarks like the blazing stars suspended over your cradle * * * * * * * * * * * * broken clouds, through the east hang low— lightning crawls : a light show blooming out— we sing glad hymns our voices a scintillatingly mix of all the world's emptiness uprooted & the painted angels on the walls— just another wreckage of colors falling plunging wings of white— a sequence of holes in the elegant arches of this small steeple