February 14

Sonnet V

Aghast, I look upon the steaming plain
Where Love doth stride, a ruthless fire-footed thing
To blacken bone in wash of flaming wing:
There, be neither shelter nor shield from pain
Seared flowers wither in its burning mane.
I turn my streaming face away, and cling
To lesser thing and stop my ears lest hear it sing
Its ringing gimlet cry to blight the sane
And set us trembling at its seeming rage
Or, ripping chin to stern in bleeding rite
It eats the flinching heart and strews but jumbled cage
Of ribs to rattle in its wrenching flight
And so consumes the wailing babe and blinded sage,
Till naught be left but ash and wholly joyous light.

                               ~  Isabelle Rathbone Greene,  c. 1894

The Morrigan

Friends, so sorry to have been blog-neglectful! I aim to mend my ways in 2016.  Here's the Morrigan, Celtic battle goddess, shape-shifting phantom queen. She just got lucky and won the popular vote competition for Infected By Art (IBA) Volume 4. Thank you, everyone who participated!! So honored. There is a great deal ofastonishing work to see at Infected By Art, and the book will be incredible!

The Morrigan, mixed-media, about 19" tall.