heels

heels

black tiles beneath heels click
click click click click click
as you walk through one door
and look for the next
next next next next next
until you arrive where
you always knew you were supposed to be


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
Inspired by a precognizant memory of couer rage.

fidelis(terminus VI)

fidelis(terminus VI)

I would rather kiss you than make love with any other woman,
for that would violate my sacred vow and how could I live
knowing that what I was given as a grace and gift was set aside,
if even for a moment, for reasons and treasons I could not defend?
you are friend, to be sure, but pure and higher passions spend
their heat in units of a thermal, dermal demand I will command
only to your chariot of joy, harnessing the beasts of Apollo
and the winds I have brought from the high desert, blue as midnight
green as your eyes and black as lies revealed when unsealed
from the damning pride that tried their best to keep me from heaven.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

from the thorns

The alchemy of my heart burns so hot and bright it is difficult to reach into the crucible and draw out the molten glass words that usually flow slow but of their own accord.

This one arrived in the palm of my hand when I contemplated my beloved, just moments ago. The glow is still white-hot and plastic.

from the thorns

How curious and furious
this revelation in revelled elation.
Beauty born, like diamonds and jet,
in the heart of fires that supposedly
would consume all to admire; a higher
purpose, a proposition juxtaposed
to make, from the thorns, a rose.
I marvel at this and kiss the wind
where we have twinned from the solitude,
with gratitude and grace as I face
a future with a heart heavy only with hope.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Expect, after review and approval from my brilliant and brisant love, a major shift in my presence on the web.

Expect surprises.

open note

Open letter to a certain lurker:

How could you have been thinking about her "yesterday" when our logs show you visiting her blog and mine 10-20 times a day. Sounds a little more like you were thinking about her every day. Several times.

Sorry, man. You may hate me, and with every right, and I will not stop you from looking around or saying your mind, but there is a reality at work here, realize this. I would if I were you, as I would accept her at her word and wish for her the best.

But I believe I understand your obsession.

a new work

Something so new...there is still breath in my lungs that I inhaled as I wrote it,

It is happening

It is happening.
I would not have believed the sky
capable of the transformation
as the stars appear in daylight
and night becomes a tapesty of comfort.
It is happening.
Riddles no longer regent fall apart
to scatter like the dried, dyed hearts
of those who stood apart from love,
so corrupted by this world's toxicity.
It is happening.
And I can see things that I only dreamt of,
light in eyes that shine like emerald stones
taught to lase like ruby rods
set in the face of Aphrodite, mighty.
It is happening.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

if you want to comment on video for Panther on the Beach

Here's the full-on (non-imbedded link) to Phill Vassall's new video featuring "Panther on the Beach":

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vHO3fLHXULU

So you can comment, etc...

video: Panther on the Beach

The other day a gentleman by the name of Phill Vassall, who is a very creative and gifted videographer in, ironically enough, the Tampa area (I believe) approached me and asked permission to use the text and a pre-recorded reading of mine of my villanelle "Panther on the Beach" (PC 13) for a video. He promised to give me approcal rights before he'd show it publicly.

Well, I saw it just a few hours ago and I approve, truly. It is so very pleasing to me when another artist embraces my work (I won't quote what he says alongside the work on YouTube, as it would be immodest, but he seems to like it).

So, here it is, Phill Vassal's video...



To quote the love of my life..."Uber cool".

shiny things and a million new lives

Okay, some think that my new work "shiny shiny" is a bit blatantly erotic for the audience. Obviously, those are not people who have read my work for very long.

It is a little explicit for my usual, but if you follow the link to it above, you will find it is not overly so.

And to calm you beasts, I offer up another work of the same vintage, and to and of my lady love...

a million new lives

I will find a million new lives
when I touch your face and feel you,
soft as hope, ripe as passion,
and full of all my dreams,
ready to be mine forevermore.

You are my moon and stars,
cool comfort in a darkening night.
You are the sun that nourishes life
and draws my flowers to blossom
in your warm hands and grace.

I will lay with you past the clock's demand
and take my comfort in your kiss,
my pleasure in your loins
my legacy in what grows between us,
as we share with a world that waits for love.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Saturday morning ramble

It is the first Saturday in February, and the long road of the year still stretches out before me. Miles to go before I sleep, miles to go before I sleep.

The year has already taken me by surprise. A year ago I was living two hundred miles from where I am writing this and unattached (a pledge by me to remain faithful to my vows from my second marriage, out of respect for her and to prove to myself that, despite the legends, I can keep it zipped, just became a habit and I found myself promising to make sure I would "take no pretender, again, to my bed").

Now I am where I am, wishing I was 8,132 miles ESE of where I am, blissfully involved with a woman for whom, for years, I felt unworthy to get the attention of. We are making plans. That is a very gentle way to put it. There's an old saying that love is just your neuroses finding somone else's neuroses attractive. We both have our frayed edges, dings and cracks, but it seems to have made us both stronger, and more suited for a life with each other than we would have been five, ten years ago.

I have a lot of work ahead of me, having allowed some things to slip over the last few years, but I am making the adjustments...not to be a different person, there's a world of difference between shining one's shoes and throwing them out to buy another pair, but to put the edge back on the knife, the shine back on the mirror and recalibrate some things I let slip in the face of my own doubts and penance.

Next month I am the a judge or judge and MC (they are still debating on whether or not to turn me loose on a crowd of high school students, no wonder West Virginia has a bad rap in educational statistics, nationally, they are so afraid of their own shadow they stunt the students by pretending the world is Disneyland) for the West Virginia state finals of the Poetry Out Loud contest. I have a few miracles left...not many (I laughed aloud at the anonymous commentor who accused me of having a Messiah complex or Narcissism, obviously they have been spending too much time with their head up their ass to move beyond such simplistic and misapplied generalities...Salieri lives!) but enough.

Not miracles of divine intervention. But if you take a reasonably well filled brain pan (is it narcisstic to know one's own IQ score?) and give it a vector and a shove, you can take down mountains and reroute rivers. Then all the people who never got off their fat asses will accuse you of thinking you are better than them, and it gets ugly because, while they are farming the new fields and irrigating with the rerouted river, they are busy trying to hang you as a witch.

I actually find it terribly amusing. C.S. Lewis was very right when he pointed out that Democracies have an issue with excellence (take a look at our President, the triumph of mediocrity. We elected a man I wouldn't hire to fix my car because of questions of competence and integrity and gave him the power of life and death to send my nephew and thousands of other people's fathers and mothers and sons and daughters and nephews and nieces into harm's way).

We need to stop this whole entitlement mindset that hampers and pampers us such that we become a nation of couch potatoes grunting at faux celebrities on television. You know why I might would not vote for Barack Obama for President? Because Oprah Winfrey has so little social conscience that, to make a quick buck, she'd shill her jury consultant, a Dr. Phil McGraw, to the American viewing public as a competent and representative mental health professional, causing untold harm to people and relationships (but she gets her licensing fees from syndication). So I wonder if she'll put her prestige behind a train wreck of a snake oil salesman like Dr. Phil, do I want to trust her with telling me whom I should have deciding who lives and dies and what Federal programs get funded?

Maybe we should just skip the step and run Dr. Phil. The terrifying thing is, he'd get a lot of votes. Just not from Britney Spears.