Sunday, December 24, 2017



12 angels all ‘round the white tree
whirling, revolving... merrily 

7 gods dance inside the inner ring
through a divine geometry they sing

stars, cubes and triangles complement
forms are forged, broken or bent

impulses forged into solid form
an orbiting of fragmented shells, aswarm

36 roots plunge deep into hell, bottomless 
72 branches reach up for the abyss 

deep within the concentric rings of the tree
if able to discern in the dark, one might see

another band of gods and angels do swing
around a similar, black tree, and sing

outside the concentric band of spheres 
if one listens closely, a faint whisper he hears

of yet another song, sung in wicked delight 
of shapes and structures that covered the light

allowing darkness to brew and cook
in cool, dank pocket, corner and nook

if not too bored, confused or tired,
perceive just how far these songs have conspired

inward and outward, in every direction
songs of right, wrong and correction 

left, up, forward, right, back and down
pictures swirl, from sole to crown

so much, so fast, so slowly occurring 
through thought and feeling, swim without stirring

one’s position might come to be
believe all of it and none of it, simultaneously 

this stance without standing might bring to you friend,
knowledge without knowing, of beginning without end

Written on Christmas Eve, 2017
in Wilmington, NC

Friday, December 15, 2017

Straw Hats


Straw Hats
Dec 15 at 8:31pm

happy, clueless pilgrims
venturing to the Amish land
awestruck by the death of leaves,
the strength of autumn’s hand

noses pressed excitedly
to panes of auto glass
cameras cocked and loaded
shooting horse drawn buggies, as they pass… 

rudely slapping their unwilling victims
on to sheets of Kodak flypaper
at the expense of a simple, private people
they'll have volumes of self-involvement to savor

My name is Magus (Kevin Trent Boswell) and I am a poet, occultist and guitarist.

Check out more at:

Kevin Trent Boswell