DFC 2014 11: Antigone IHow barren and forsaken is this land,DFC 2014 11: Antigone I by MadPrinceFeanor
this country that has known so much upheaval,
when wickedness incarnate can command
that one is good, and the other evil.
Will the gods frown so on my retrieval
and seeing to my brother's last farewell?
Did Polynices not bleed red as well?
DFC 2014 10: NGC 5195Abide with me where galaxies collide,DFC 2014 10: NGC 5195 by MadPrinceFeanor
collide with mammoth force as stars abide
bright as a pulse of inundating light.
Light that erupts to make the whole sky bright.
Crash and explode, we watch as as they smash;
smash into fractals when you and I crash.
DFC 2014 9: Join the Danceone, two, threeDFC 2014 9: Join the Dance by MadPrinceFeanor
and now you follow me
as we pas-de-deux across the floor
how many times have we sashayed these steps before?
how many strides have we missed and then answered for?
carry on without a backwards glance
and, if you get a chance,
join the dance
Advance praise for the works of Jai M. McGrainer:|
"You're like, really really good!" ~someone on the internet
"You have a very unique voice." ~almost all of my creative writing professors
"Why do you have to write about these kinds of things?" ~my mother
"[The writing of Jai M. McGrainer is i]mpressive. Most impressive." ~Darth Vader
Grandmother Spider Bears the Weight of the SunDecember.
The solstice smells of wet soil.
A rising sea of dusk washes over her,
pressing on her mind
like her fingers press the lump of clay in her palm.
Grandmother keeps her hands busy,
forces nervous tremors into the small vessel
emerging like a snake
from the earth.
A bundle of flowers had held the sweat of her hands.
The trip to the hospital bore the scent of old leather,
worn bus seats
and lilies too long without water.
He'd been badly burned, they said.
His fingertips were flame-marked,
smooth and new-pink
when they came to change his bandages.
Grandmother flexes her parchment fingers.
Clay rims her wrinkled knuckles,
turns her hands to dusty grey spiders.
She clings to her secrets so tightly
her hands start to burn.
Her feet take her across the road from the bus stop.
In the Oklahoma fields, the long grass breaks against her legs,
the winds drag a tide toward her.
No moon rises tonight.
Grandmother lifts her eyes from the little clay pot in her hands,
eyes the stars
and the st