A Tenderish Buttony joint
A Happy Green Father~
A happy green father, the full moon and temperance. Victory arms, long hair flowing down,
head back, toes on star for the word. You have but five coins on the wall above that key. Like
the shield hanging on his diminishing back. Six disks now in orbit between hands. A shining ring
frames her floating geometric smile.
She Queen~
She is a Queen. Her arms are held out and up in gentle supplicant spells. This is a bowl of fire.
Who’s majickal hand grows the tree is called the majician- the hierophant- all aspin with the
staff she threw overhead. All four wands dancing together in ecstasy. The Dark King is
unamused ahead of the lion who he has given an offering of old weapons of war and dried
flowers. Fuzzy dice you can wear around your neck. Fuck rearview mirrors.
A Cup of Pages~
A hanged man eyes the angry crow. All three in love under the stars. All of the phases of the
moon. But those red bottomed shoes though. And sometimes solitude shines the inner mind. A
cushion or a castle a rampart or a lounge. You gotta climb the tower to see the light. Walking a
precarious line.
The same story can be told infinitely many varied ways. Suppose ten cups held all that you
could ever hope to have. More than the lovers, this pair akimbo together, hanging as one. And
what a happy dog. It’s the start of everything worthwhile but it’s still wrong. It can be found
beyond those trees yonder. Everything beyond is everything beyond – it’s just stars and stuff
above those trees. You’d better have a wolf at your side.
A light under her eyes blinds and opens to an outstretched hand from the Devil. Two sticks
are useful – more so than a blue flower in a pink sky. More valuable than everything worth gold
and everyone worth love under one sacred circle. A yellow path laid below a flow of light and
smoke.
A knight running to wheels under bird under sky. Impetus of light impetus of dark pulling
along the little one’s wonder. Dry branches and an old green cloth – somehow made beautiful.
Holding the fastest sword and a little heart locket. It’s everything and it sets us all to dancing
and reverie – beast man woman and child every one.
Huck Shine is a writer, a producer, and a performer of poetry and song. He is the founder of DarkLeaf Publicatio, a small local press. Huck is, as a writer and a publisher, focused on the shedding of much needed light into the least seen or spoken about aspects of humanity—holding close to a lifecraft of choosing to seek beauty even ~and maybe even especially~ inside of the encroaching darkness of this Capitalocene apocalypse.
He was a managing editor of Bombay Gin Literary Journal & has been published in Mountain Bluebird Magazine, The Pivot, Bombay Gin Literary Journal, & DarkLeaf Publicatio. Huck is currently an MFA candidate at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics, and he is the proud recipient of the Robert Creeley Scholarship.
