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, December 25, 2014

A CIRCUS OF SCISSORS

I want to dance like a Fauvist’s brush.
Live like a Matisse cut-out looks.

This is the way I will dodge
the knife-thrower’s knives –

by turning each blade
into something else.

By painting
with scissors.

Thursday, December 18, 2014

THE LEVER

You can fashion one from anything.
A shovel, a broken branch, a habit.
Just find the pivot-point, pry and push.
That’s all that’s needed –
a jimmying gesture,
actual or otherwise.
With it will come a chain reaction
and the feeling 
that you’re smelting something
or that a stampede is on the way.
And it is.
Do not run.
Be the bison that turns
into the storm.



Thursday, December 11, 2014

DISAPPEARING ACT

Go ahead,
dash the potions

from the magician’s human hands, clip
memory from owl’s broken wing.

For every part you aim to erase
the greater absence occurs in you.

Think twice, my little one,
before you redact the name 

of the devil who wronged you
from the jaundiced pages

of the grand grimoire –
before you give the henchman 

the nod. Betrayer or not,
if they drop

through the gallows’ floor
you drop with them.

Thursday, December 4, 2014

THE SHOEBOX

It was a long bus ride
living with the fear, the threat,

that bullies would take from you—
even kill—what you carried

from your 3rd grade science class
with care, home.

Safe and proud, you entered the house
knowing you had kept a thing from harm–

and knowing
just where you'd put it,

the shoebox:
beside all your Oz books.

What the box contained
was the stuff of dreams, magic,

that, if you were careful enough,
nurturing enough,

might carry you,
like Dorothy,

from twisters
to yellow brick roads.