Thor, the Norse God of Thunder, had a hammer named Mjölnir. Mjölnir was considered a fierce weapon that could level mountains and summon lightning with every blow. In this poetry blog, every Thursday, (Thor’s Day), Mjölnir will forge only song - sing of the mysteries and beauties of the world.

Thursday, June 21, 2012


Balalaika crackling
on the boom box.

Lamb on the grill,
skewered in its sibilance.

A day wrapped in grape
leaves. Muslin.

Bare shoulders. Nipples
of men

playing peek-a-boo
before a stilling sun.

A backyard
bacchanalia. Garland

rounding temples. Aphrodite,
Artemis, Dionysus,

Zephyr. White sheets
all. It’s a comfort

to be a God among Gods
and Greek, gorging

my gullet with dolma,
choking down pine pitch

with a lyre, Xerox
on cardboard,

under my arm. This
is my quiver, my green

apple. What a relief
it will be. To not be

myself today and to see
the photograph

of the myth I was
stitched between horses.

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