A humorous new poem, of sorts. Read it here.
I will be the Magic Girl of the Peachland County Festival. For even beauty is different than magic. Only one girl can have the magic. Only one, wear the Freestone Crown, the instant after midnight.
The women will fill the stage. I will wait, until they are all on stage. And then … I will not enter. I will instead change the stage. I will replace it with another stage, a fresh stage containing me. If I can sing, like a swing in a garden; if I can then turn, so that the world itself turns, and I remain; if I can then truly turn, and the men catch their heads in their hands, all of them, then….
Then it would truly be magic.