Size / / /

Norns, The female trinity of Fates. . .known as Weird Sisters. . ."three mysterious beings" who revealed the secrets of the universe and wrote the book of destiny; hence their other title, Die Schreiberinnen, "women who write."

Barbara G. Walker, The Women's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets

Yardwork used to be easier

before the Norns unionized.

Script writers for Cosmic Womb Corporation,

the Weird Sisters have contractual breaktime

for smoking Luckies and playing Mah Jong

out on the patio next to their cave.

Late last millennium they switched

from watered ale and honey mead

to Singapore slings and lime daiquiris,

leaving a litter of yellow plastic monkeys,

swizzle sticks and tiny toothpick umbrellas.

(Fishing them out of the Fountain of Wisdom,

is tricky business; I really don't need

any more insight right now. )

The Doomsday Serpent went on Wellbutrin,

stopped gnawing and joined a marimba band,

practicing here every afternoon.

Next week they're cutting their first demo.

Niebelungen La Bamba they call it.

With all the activity out by the old axis mundi

I've gotten behind with my weeding and watering

and if oceans aren't as clean

as they used to be, it's truly not my fault.

If you come by, remember,

I'm taking my breaks up in the tree,

away from the noise and secondhand smoke.

I'm doing some freelance writing myself

and sometimes it takes a while to get down

from branches hung with stars.




Sandra J. Lindow (lindowleaf@gmail.com) lives on a hilltop in Menomonie, Wisconsin, where she teaches, writes, edits, and competes with wildlife for rights to her vegetables and perennials. She has six books of poetry. The Hedge Witch's Upgrade, her seventh book, is presently in the production process. Read more at www.wfop.org/poets/lindowsa.html. You can find more of her past work in our archives.
Current Issue
22 Apr 2024

We’d been on holiday at the Shoon Sea only three days when the incident occurred. Dr. Gar had been staying there a few months for medical research and had urged me and my friend Shooshooey to visit.
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Tu enfiles longuement la chemise des murs,/ tout comme d’autres le font avec la chemise de la mort.
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Le petit monstre n’était pas né comme un enfant des hommes, criant de froid et de terreur au sortir du ventre maternel. Il avait pris vie peu à peu, sur la haute selle à trois pieds, et quand ses yeux s’étaient ouverts, ils avaient rencontré ceux du sculpteur aux larges épaules, qui le regardaient tendrement.
We're delighted to welcome Nat Paterson to the blog, to tell us more about his translation of Léopold Chauveau's story 'The Little Monster'/ 'Le Petit Monstre', which appears in our April 2024 issue.
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