Loki and the Dancers
Loki mud‑footing through spring
pines, fireheart
blazing in warm, darkening air.
Mischief Loki jay‑dives sparrow,
pulls squirrel's
tail, changes in the changing time.
Among long shadows, slender dancers
sway and sing
by stone‑skipping snowmelt stream.
Circle‑dancing Loki sings "I dance
like flicker‑flame
lighter than you, lighter than you
lovely dancers, but just the same,
lighter than you,
lighter than you. I can dance til
your feet turn blue, and leaden too,
lighter than you,
lighter than you," taunting trills
in the blackness now, tireless Loki
all night long
and liquid dancers endless moving
mystery of many arms, spirit folk,
heads bobbing
moan their lusty spring night songs
until poor panting Loki falls parched,
pooped, headlong
in an icy pool. Wet rag Loki, muscle‑
cramped, out‑danced Loki wakens to soft
light, pale
green willows swaying in spring wind.
Loki and the Fisherman
Loki salmon swimming silver
in sparkling
sea, spying on whales ‑‑
"hey blow‑hole blubber
brain! Hey big fish!"
Loki, like a sun‑
beam shooting through
the deep, singing
mixed‑blood songs ‑‑
"Loki giant
son, Loki
fire‑falcon
god, Loki
serpent‑father
net‑weaver
apple‑thief, blind
deceiver of many
voices singing
in the sky and sea
Loki like
a shadow
in the waves."
Calloused tar‑hand
casts his net
wide, catches
herring, sea salmon,
Loki wriggling, tail
flapping in well‑made
mesh --
"Oh, salmon struggling
on the beach, oh wise‑eyed
salmon slippery‑scale sun‑
blade fish, I'm no
one's fool! And who
are you?"
Two sun-parched hours
fish Loki scar‑throats --
"Loki, I'm Loki, let me go
and fishes will be wishes
beach‑bum fisherman, flotsam's
son, molester of dolphins
shack‑dweller, fish‑stinking..."
Fisherman sighs --
"Oh, silver‑back deity
holy shape‑shifter, singer
of sweet songs, keep a civil
tongue"
dumps him on the sand.
"Wish, swill‑bailer, chum‑doler
sea‑strand peasant, and may all
your roads lead to half‑rotting
Hel."
Fisherman three‑wishes
Loki on the sunny
coast --
"May my nets
be always full, my
pockets stuffed
with gold,
and may the ladies
love me, everywhere
I go."
And Loki, lord of gifts, holding out
hands --
"Well wished, fisherman, your nets
full of rocks
and seaweed, goldfish pouring
from your pockets
while she‑cats, ewes
and bitches
mew and bleat and moan behind
your golden‑weighted, well‑loved,
miserable steps."
Loki and the Apples of Youth
Hungry Loki watches
while meat won't cook.
Evil magic bird caws
"share a piece and I'll
roast your ox flesh crisp
and brown."
Eagle rip‑off
tearing through sky and cunning
Loki stick‑clings to roasted
ox, skims tree tops, drags
stony ground like a skinned knee.
"Loki, Loki bring
me apples, golden
from the golden tree."
Without their sun‑gold
apples even gods grow
old. Thor's belly
sags, Weyland's arthritis
flares while Frejya, Sif
and Frigg endure
wrinkles, dye‑jobs, menopause.
Odin bifocals his one good eye.
Only Loki, blood
like wind, refuses
to age. Gleeful at first, he hides
their hearing aids, saws
canes, switches night‑stand glasses
full of teeth, sells
vitamins, gets rich cheating
Medicare.
"Pitiful, scrap‑heap
gods, blind, gray,
senile‑spitting, nursing‑
home Valhalla folk!"
Game gets old, Loki falcon‑
wriggles Freyja's
flying suit, speeds across
mountains, picking golden
apples in his beak, quick
dash back to Asgaard, eagle
at his tail. One last Thor
time giant hammer oofing up, labors
like a hernia, crushes eagle
skull and the gods suck up
their apple‑juice youth.
Hero Loki gets
no parade, no praise‑
songs, no red‑gold rings
no glistening arm‑bands
or well‑wrought cups
no splendid garments
woven by the goddess' soft
hands, no schools named
after him, no streets, no
tee‑shirt for THE WORLD'S
GREATEST TRICKSTER GOD,
nothing
but shit from
whining gods, threats and
a falcon cage, cold
birdseed and no clean
newspaper for a month.
Loki and the Hunger Time
Hunger time on Asgaard, nothing
to eat. Scrawny deer, scrawny
elk, winter salmon slippery-thin
at the bottom of icy pools.
Stomach-aching Loki on a diet
of mice drags wearily along
the trail, meets an old woman
in the middle of the wood,
bulging bag slung on her boney
back. "Watcha got there Granny?"
Loki leers, thinking bag-lady
lunch.
She draws meat from her fat pack.
"Why thank you Ma'am," sweet
talking Loki shape-shifts down
the path for more, squirrels four
fat portions in his secret ash
tree stash.
The fifth time he gets fleas
sharp as hunger on his neck, his
hair, down his tricky pants,
and in his hiding place nothing
but four grease spots. When he bends
to fill his empty gut with water
from a stream, his teeth fall out
like bits of shell.
He stumbles on a house, beautiful
woman spinning thread. "Make me
handsome as Loki" he spells,
charms some food, though
toothless he can only nibble fat.
While he sleeps in her soft lap
she fashions molars and incisors,
canines sharper than before,
then sends him off to hunt with
her five brothers, men who fly as
strong-winged swans.
On the way they sing the magic
songs of flight, and Loki, quiet
on the eldest's feathery back,
learns the tune. When he sings
too, mimicking the wind, their
power wanes, they drop to the
earth like bulging, wingless
sacks until they toss off Loki
and disappear behind the moon.
"Be a feather!" and Loki floats
down like a paratrooper toward
the trees. "Be an arrow" and he
zings like a missile. Shifting
again he floats, then dives,
feather and arrow playing above
the tree line until he calls out
"arrow" twice and plunges headlong
in the ice.
Bitter cold Loki stuck in water,
Black bear-Loki trying to stay
warm, tail worming in the frozen
stream. Hungry winter salmon takes
the bait and ticklish Loki squirms,
roaring across the ice until his
tail is gone, the silver salmon
fat and twitching by his side.
Loki-bear broils salmon in the
hunger time, eats, eats and licks
his shaggy paws.