I drift…
my spirit, my mind, my body
on waves of endlessness

my arms are wings of submission
over a current that lifts me
as high as poise

If I falter, I sink
I must bear no clasped hands in prayer,
nor proud bend on my spine

Could I, I would fan each finger
each skinlette
each atom
until I were just a
over mirrored waters

But to be whole, I wade and
relinquish myself to drift.

She will carry me on
one droplette
in a Forever Sea

La mère


A boy kicked sand in my face
and the little girl doesn’t
notice the angry seagulls
lurking there in her shadow

The sand is crowded,
the water even more so,
while the ocean throws wave
after wave onto the shore

Little ripplettes for the
toddlers still learning to swim,
rip currents for the restless
at odds with the deep

It should be chaos,
overwhelming like the sea,
but all I can think of in
this moment is how in love
She must be to come back
to us again and again


pexels-photo-large copy 5

My mother is sea

whose mother is moon

who drinks from the sun

from whom I drink too



into rough waters I dive

down into blues so deep

and currents so cold

past the place where

waves echo and moon bends

until I reach the bottom

where footprints once

swept from the shore

rest in silence



I wonder if the sky will rise
knowing I’m no longer here
If somehow the spotlight night
will notice that I’ve disappeared

If my feet which so often trailed this land
should someday start to fade
would mornings come or mornings go
while all memories of me drift away

More the more, I think of you
and the heart you wear on your sleeve
your heart in my hand, the sun to the land,
if I left what would you think of me

Between the spotlight stars, the rising sky
between the rhythm of your skin
what kind of world would feel this vacancy
what kind of world do I live in?



both eyes open, both eyes closed
I am found in light, found in darkness
but in grey light
I am lost

eyes unopened, eyes unclosed,
I wink then fall apart
somewhere but not
here, there

I cannot run, cannot hide
the stink, the smell of
suffocation, the sensation
of Earth pouring over me, filling
so slowly, not fast enough

cover me, don’t
let me live, let me die
but lead not my breath to hesitate

both eyes open, both eyes closed
I breathe in, I breathe out
but never do both



Even Hell was barred
from the Human Divine,
the fire spurred after
damnation was revealed by
Heavenly Hands and brought
forth unto the feet of the Poet.

What lesson is worth
learning that is not first obscured?
that does not heal by burning
or blind with the light of Seraph
blades carving flesh into Divinity

Quantum Love


From when we came from nothing,
even still we felt the resonance of fire
quickening in the silence
adrift in the depths of what was then
known and unknown,
made, unmade,
the Original Union of that which Is
and that which Is Not, or maybe
never was at all
What we call Big Bang,
a singularity as Void and Eternity
became one in the thrill of ecstasy.
We are the lineage of Quantum Love,
our joinings not of instinct
but cosmically ordained in the
space between our pieces

The lonely place


You led me here where skies are
gone and winds blow faint and far,
where time has slowed between
two hearts and places far beyond

you match my step in rhythmic tide
my heartbeat in your hand,
such emptiness you’ve shown me
here near barren, quiet land.

Why do you pause to run your
hand into that lonely dust?
through greying earth where vacancies
replace the thrill of tempered lust

so you might stand among the
sorrows of this desolate refrain
and see the sins of all the ages
become the shadow of your pain

This quiet cold, it burns me:
I see your skin freeze under mine,
just let me follow further–
let me bring you back this time.

As far as you may wander, lead me
further through this waste;
unto a lonely summit
or the edge of time and space.

I’ll walk with you and sigh under
a fading melody,
I’ll gladly brave this emptiness
so I might fill you up again.



Of mystery she is born
and in curiosity resides
a spirit of flame oxidized
into flesh and bone
ever carving away at
her skin with delicate fingers
polishing layer upon
bloody layer of tarnish and sinew
for what body could contain
a vessel of the red dawn


Heavenly Nothings 


at the end of it all once the last
glint of starlight falls behind the
curtain of our eternity and
the eves and emsees dissolve among
the silences finally at rest in the dark
i imagine an Ocean as black and as deep
as all the sorrows of this Endlessness
a baptismal Cold entering me into
Whatever lays beyond forever
no waves begotten, only still waters
and a memory of everything

Rain dance


Fall into the open arms
of the Southern Storms
Let the fire quench your
thirst for tomorrow
Let the rain ignite
all the flames of your
wandering spirit


Matters of

True love is not caring who they love most

It’s being happy they have so much love to give at all



I took Latin in high school instead of Spanish or French because I wanted to understand the history of my voice–how my words were mothered by time and civilizations far greater than my own.

But Latin was not the mother I thought she would be. She was a conduit for words still in gestation, for tongues much older than she were lurking behind the doors of veni vidi vici.

I wanted to understand my voice. I wanted to shake hands with the first sound to escape us with meaning.

Our songs are old. They are ancient. They are relics that may well be from another world, another kind, another singularity… thousands of years of human history, not lost but ungiven, as written language came much later while our voices followed closely behind us.

Imagine. Your voice coming from the mouth of a woman clad in mud and fur, teaching herself and her children how to shape the pyramid that would become Babel.

Her voice is yours. We will never know the vowels and the verbs she gave us, but we know her in the same way we need not think to understand that our words are us.

I may never shake hands with the tongue that gave me language. I may never know the face of the one who pulled meaning out of meaningless sounds. But let that not stop me from speaking. Each breath a quiet thanks to she who opened her mouth and gave me life.

Di amore


Sing me a lullaby

sing me a song

sing me into music

that might make me fall in love

Sing under the sunrise

and when the moon is bright

sing to me so maybe

I might fall in love tonight