Welcome to

"i know this language
yet i do not interperate
for anyone"

Claire D. is a tormented young poetess of the "neo-Gothic" tradition. A sampling of her unusually introspective work -- discovered by a friend of mine upon moving into a new apartment, in a diary left behind by the previous tenant -- is presented here in the hope that her insights into the causes and effects of the spiritual seeking so prevalent with today's generation will prove pertinent to the reader's own life.

The poems span nearly three years in a life of great disquiet; the reader can but pray that by today Claire -- whose whereabouts remain unknown -- has finally "found herself," for clearly she is far from that goal by the end of the period documented.

We trust you will agree that in Claire D. we have found the unnatural admixture of Emily Dickinson and Kurt Cobain.

Untitled #1

I wish i could just die --
Fade away --
Suffer --
Contract a fatal
Let no one know
Be alone
All alone
Will no one ever know
They cannot see
I can act
so wholly alive
I am dead
and dying.
And living
I still go through
each day
Quietly insane
and remain
On the edge of reality
Do you see
i am me
Do you see
i can be
(Not to me.).

Untitled #2

I am a darkly tormented soul
walking in the light
Causing myself pain
where there is none
adding weights to the shoulders
Of this Wobbley Head.
Scratching at the eyes
of my inner visions
Wanting to cause pain
Like mine
In something unfeeling,
To let it out.
How simple it sounds
How outrageously complex
it feels.
at the outcome.
Last but not Least.


This time that
i follow my heart
The visions connect me
to what has come before.
The Lion walks beside me
once again
Though he has grown stronger
and his steps more silent
and sure.
We have an aware-ness of each other
and the universe
Reflected a thousand times
at every glance
We live as one



i realize now i asked for
this & why.
I thought all this time
i was master (misstress)
of the moves --
I am but a small force
in the scheme.

But ...

reflected by one mere drop
of the Sun's tears
i am a thousand-fold part
of his heart.

Untitled #3

to think i actually thought i was playing
the tape as i wished -- i prayed for
what i am getting. I wanted to know
pain and suffering in my heart of hearts --
I i kneeded -- needed ...

Untitled #4

underneath the layers
of moving refridgerators
and computers with a virus
we Ūnd everything we
could possibly want ...
Right next to radiators that leak
and rims that don't Ūt
Our every wish is waiting ...
It gleams in every old woman's
In line at Lucky's
In front of all things
the glitter of one
The speck of one speck
the dirt on His Toe.
My everything.

Untitled #5

I think i know what it feels
like to "Get Religion." I
think I realize now why "Jesus
Freaks" are so happy.

I fear i'm inclined to
religious fanatasism (?)

in a quiet and gentle way.
It feels healthy
but I had to be
pretty sick to
realize that.

Untitled #6

I am the egg
above the water --
Looking out from my
cool agate shell
Knowing my senses are
reeling in
too much
at the same time.
Strength beside me,
the Sun
in the East,
Roses in the sky
and at His throat
What i thought an illusion
Turns the corner of reality
and one is not just
a word.

Untitled #7

this is not the
beginning of
Merely an inspiration
from my Lord
comming at the same
time i have
chosen to
Finally acknowledge
My heart is True
my steps are
small ...

I am His now

Untitled #8

My Mother will
never know
My pain
I will never
know hers.

Untitled #9

She knows
She knows she can see
See me
And she hears
Listen to me
You know the course
follow me
I am calling you
She's comming
She can see me

I know.

Untitled #10

I feel my face in
her hands after I
open the circle. She
looks into my eyes
and I look back and try
very hard to look into
hers -- I briefly see old
wrinkley clear blue eyes and
white hair. I feel the
crone-wisdom flow from
her finger-tips to my cheek-bones
up the sides of my face and
swirling convergance at my
third eye.
I heard the north wind
howling and saw thick billowing
white clouds be hind Her.
The wind was cold in my nose
but I was not chilled.

Untitled #11

you know the sound that
I know that language
I can turn the howlings
of the highway
whispers of the
whispers of the wind


Untitled #12

i know this language
yet i do not interperate
for anyone
i understand what they are saying
to me
and cover the knowledge
it is my ownly own-ly secret ...

Untitled #13

At this time --
how strange the thoughts
that cross my mind
How is it we wait so long --
till the last minute
it seems
So kind
amusing --
No time
time --

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