Boot weather

She breathed in, and then out again,
air
colder than the dark afternoon
as if
death had already seized her limp
soul
Staring into the gray blue autumn
sky
watching the still clouds frozen
as if
the very last moment before the ice age came
to freeze
Remnants of life and love and hope
in
the pictures scratched by the bare, stark
twigs
that cling listlessly to yellow threads of
life
Lingering in the cold, all alone again til her
breath
shatters the stillness of death's frozen
scene when
she dreams of sleep's blanket, to awaken one
day
the new life, the warmth, and promise of
spring

Before it was a river
Laid a dry and barren plain
Beneath the mountains’ towering
Slides to flash the falling rain

Before there was a mountain
Breathed land above the silent plates
Soon to erupt within the molten core
Unaware of its magnificent fate

Before it was a spinning earth
A mass of unfathomable light
Forced to be this world we see
Our pleasure, not our right

Before it was my light, my love
My name was always this
Conceived by the rain and cosmic pain
Life bore me, its daughter, Bliss

Her little fancies

How honest, the obsession of an addict

Floating
through the streets
wearing nothing
but her face

She plays no games no more with you

You are the jagged edge
that tears flesh from its soul
leaving her soul
free to bleed

There is nothing left, save elegance

Traipsing through her vague spirit
there is no way to win or lose
there is only this;
her scars from your wounds

Which her tears kiss quickly as they fall


There have been a handful of times now that I have not understood what "I" have written until I read it again at another time. That's when the real editing starts-when I realize that I have not actually captured the essence of what I meant to say.

I'm a process.  I'm done thinking about inefficiencies, insufficiencies, or incompatibilities. Life is hard enough as it is. These imaginary deficiencies just make everything harder.

I spoke earlier today that I am a poet. Suddenly I was. We can deem ourselves whatever be our great desires. And then we are. If I speak that the ocean soothes me, it does. If I tell you that I love you, then you are love to me. If we crown ourselves kings of the night, then burn the night like comets, then we are stars.

Thank you for listening to my little fancy. I am your devoted friend. I am. ;)

Rock a bye, babe (Elation, delight)

Oh I love it
I love the way
you come calling   me

Oh you know the
drill, the way I
need my fill of your loving

But oh the way
you kiss me,
how you lift me with your touch

I die for you
I am on fire for you
we will sleep in death

                        like babies

Thunder and lightning

One glorious moment
this snapshot in time,
whispers through the jagged crack
between the day and night

Dissonance rains,
announcing choir's sudden cadence
turning, abruptly while
the chords harmoniously slay us

and so we live

Take it from the bottom!

It's like forever in every moment
the sky in every star
Where is the sun in the night
or your flowers in the dark
do you know the ocean in a wave
can you hear the choir in just one measure
It's like forever in every hour
when you and I are lovers

Wand-erers

I saw the bird mince the sky
with its whipping wings
creating currents to shoo the breeze
which touch and tickle the face of me

Why has it been so difficult to embrace the magnitude of wonder, to submit freely to those things that seem so much bigger than us? As if it was a soap bubble blown by the giggling child who dropped her wand to appease her newest fancy, we have learned to not trust wonder. But wonder is as real as it is inside you or me, he or she, or all of us. We just have to want it. We just have to.

if not for me, then for the world...

Ask of me anything you want
take whatever you think you need
Know that I will surely give
for love has made a slave of me

Towering tree beyond my reach
ever stretching toward the sky
never does it fail to shelter
the restless wings of tireless flight

nor does the ocean cease to harbor
whales or turtles or angle faced fish
with never a question and never a doubt
for love's beating heart is anonymous

It's not that I crave your hungry, warm kisses
or the grasp of your strong, searching hand
These treats after all are not mine to savor
but I once knew your heart in the world of forever

So ask what you will and take what you need
for mine is the deepest pleasure
when I pray that I give you what you need to become
love's devoted slave, forever

A lull, a bye

i dream of you
in every knight that
the seeping red moon, cut
by its own sharpened crescent,
buckles to its needs

and yet it has not lost, but won
this bloody war
for it melts slowly, drowning in
its own wait of heaviness
remembering

us, the one we came to be
or did we lie our way
into this?
or does it even matter?
why or how or when, or Hoooom?

what, exactly, is this?

we are the joys,
we are the sorrows
i would not ever have known
how much i loved you
if you still loved me

because you left me,
not because you loved me;
i am untied.  so i let you go.
a common thread which I must find
again, once the dawn wakes me

Hans' solo

Isn't it like a setting sun
which you think your eyes will
no longer see
yet that bright light suddenly finds
you, when it comes peeking
through the filtered leaves

Isn't love that way?
When you think you have lost its
brightness and wonder
until a startling smile or
swelling tear swaddles
something sweet, remembered

Love and light; the most worthy
presence for the living
candles extinguish and photos fade,
but these gifts can't be cremated
by the cold of ordinary,
thermic flames

I walked the world and held you
in every setting sun
We lived inside both joy and pain,
now I wait for you in each new rising- - -
Sweet Soul, although your flesh may be gone,
in grace, your burden of light remains

This light alone,
barring anything other,
is worthy to remember
For when the sun slips away
your love lights my way
always and forever

to have been touched by something, is to be one soul for ever

Heavenly

This drop is not the ocean's movement
nor is every note the symphony's genius
Each tear is not shed for just this sadness
whose injustice is not this particular madness

If in calling my name you leave behind
that which called on you to re-define;
You will be with me, as your soul heeds
if you choose not to call LIFE by life's sad deeds

So come LIVE among the sprouts of JOY
in that space between the wrong and right
the home of memory's eternal yearning
in the making of love's sweetness churning

in that place where I will always find you...
Ohhhh...I think they call this heaven

But the greatest of them all, is faith.

I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope,

for hope would be hope for the wrong thing.

And wait without love.  For love would be love,

of the wrong thing. 

Yet there is faith.

But the faith and the hope and the love, are all in the waiting.

And the darkness shall be the light

and the stillness the dancing. 

                                             T.S. Elliot

Reading Comprehension

If I speak out loud

Then I have no need

To write my words

For turnabout

And words, not Change,

Are mine to give,

And so I bow to them,

my art

Scorpion Moon rising (part 2)

(There is a fluency of motion that is incurred by the blending of two sensations such as symmetry (sight) and emotion (touch). Think of the two strands of the helix, how when they wrap up in each other, two lines become something so much more extraordinary than any collective configuration could ever have dreamt of being. It's what makes art dance right off the page; or music leap right into your soul; or maybe even love expressed with or without words. These motions are what move our souls. I know you know this feeling of complete ecstasy, when holding, kissing and loving the one who moves your soul, and whereupon you are lost to both time and dimension. It's in that intertwining of two cords of life that the sweet little twister mingles our souls. A trip through death's emboldened door into heaven, even if only for now.
And isn't anything that you do with your soul, absolutely your art? Even, or maybe especially, when it’s in your sex. )

Changing up the rhythm

i wait in the cool sheets
wearing nothing but desire
thinking of you, tonight,
dreaming of your sex, it's on fire

my eyes are closed and yet
i see your strong hand, sweetly
reaching for me,
so instead of sitting, idly burning,
i pray for you to call me

i'm all curled up in my bed,
wishing that love was here with me
oh but it's just a few minutes past noon
so i'll just close my eyes and dream

waiting for the night


So you're laying in bed and this song comes on. I'm not sure if I've never heard it before, or just never really listened, before. Today I really heard it. I had to listen again. And then again. I know the drill when I become obsessed with these things: First swim in it, then let it drown you. Finally, lose yourself in it. That's the whole falling in love with it, thing. Falling.

 The song, well I played it several times because it connected with things I have seen and felt, so it was most welcomed. That perfect bliss where understanding of something whether it's a speck of dust or that your orbit has reversed its spin, or maybe- that another soul knows what yours knows. 

That's what art does- it helps you to recognize, accept, embrace or rise above- whatever you are carrying. It just takes life's scariness and pain, and wraps it in an intriguing package that we revel in opening. In a world of confusion we need the common threads to tie us to our cores and to open us so that we can feel, see and be without fear or self loathing. Belly to belly, the epicenters of our truth sensors are meant to connect.You're making my belly tumble. It's good to be heard.

Please sit back, let go of your thoughts and enjoy this dream, too...

You know that I could use somebody...someone like you.  ; )

Birthed right

He cannot be happy, until he chooses to be happy.
We make these choices, I think, because we don't believe in happiness.
Unhappiness is our mother and the father of our esteem.
I saw this darkness in her and felt its sting in me.

I remembered that i knew that once.
Let it go.
It is not real.

Happiness is what we came here for.

Scorpion moon

When every atom in your evening
spins itself a new direction
whether you are here or there
my core is tethered to yours

I can't stop thinking about you, tonight

you
You
YOU
make me dizzy

Tell me that you are thinking of me

An Imperceptible Shift

And though I have no right to wonder
about you, or what was once we
I can't help myself, but to wander
roaming through the city streets

but only in my mind this time
There'll be no reach, of hand or eye
So dream with ease, to find your wish
for I'll kiss you more quickly than silence

...ahhhh just one more glimpse of you...

There's a whole in the sonnet, dear Laura, dear Laura...

You must have known the way it felt
when I fell into your kiss so deep
you surely felt my woman melt
your steel resolve, while on my knees

Verse 2  (...grrrrr this is going to be a tough one)
Is it okay to skip a verse? What if it's the bridge between the insanity and the reality of life. Is either one real? It's just love. This is just life. I'm praying:Please don't give up on me.

But I think maybe you didn't see
the things that I had seen
for if you felt what I can feel
you'd still be here, loving me

Happy Fifth of July!

"One who loves all the world as if it were his own flesh and blood, can be relied upon to rule an empire." - Lao Tzu

I wonder how it makes God (or in my little world, "Love") feel to see that all of these children have drawn lines between themselves and their others.

I can't help but think that it tears the very fabric of being away from its cloaking, to reveal a broken, baffled patriarch who wanted nothing more than to watch its offspring thrive and be happy.

How sad that we can't hear each other's pleas, see each other's smiles and hug each other's children.

In the name of self we have claimed or stolen land so that we can feed our own children. Then we condemn others for trying to commit the sins which we had already mastered.

I look at my own children and know that my parental love wants to see them thrive and be happy. So how could a "greater" love than this want anything less for its beloved? For whose children have you planted your flag? Whose love are you emulating?

Love is love. Go get you some!

It's never too late to be something better.