Aria Ligi Biography

Some held a mass at her grave-
Petals strewn on the mild lave.
Granite-rose a gray façade,
Interred within where she strode,
...

I am on my knees before them,
Yet, they remain strangely unaware
They are driven by sonar,
The redolent aromas of roses, lilies and honeysuckle
...

The goodness of his heart was set,
An azure, domed cabochon
Not faceted, simple
Enthroning us, in his stolidness
...

There is a litany for the dead;
The pine box, the urn,
The eyes dilated on the anodized plate growing wider
Bubble domed tearless sacs, buckshot in the afterglow;
...

Do you hear me when I call, and know that is all;
All I came to do- Hear tenderly, and know we are one,
Behind the rise and the set of the sun.
We are subsumed in this finite skin,
...