To be believed, they say you must be bruised or ruptured, vaporized, turned to particles in the smoke, how poison ivy causes the skin to blister. Have they forgotten so quickly? Before laws and judges, there was Motherhood, lionesses fighting on the open plains.
nature
What You Cannot Help Naming
Hiking with children, in a nature park at noon, the world is sparkling and synth-laden. Without trying, the sacred ibis of thought is upon them, as their fingerprints singe burn marks of poetry in the bark of trees. To them, pine needles are hairbrushes for unicorns.
The Bobcat
Without pride, senses controlled,born or to be born, we met as hilarious strangers, each wanting something impossible. I wanted all beings like you to be happy. You wanted no being to deceive another. For a brief moment, we were sincere.Both of us, protected against the spirits of the dead,on a darkened street, on the outskirts of the city, waiting to […]
The Birth of the Sacred Mirrors (for Alex Grey)
Birds settle on a tree for a while,and then go their separate ways again.There is no separate way apart from you.When I breathe, I can taste your breath,ablaze with an all consuming fire.When my heart aches,there is nothing you will not understand.Many have died in this house, but not you. Overtaken by this thing which men […]
Echolocation
I want to find youWith my sound, empty and Marvelous, in the void, givingYou shape with nothing else Except the idea of your molecules.Every jewel, each note, contains The reflection of all the others.
Mindful of Time
Some time ago—I don’t remember how long because I didn’t think to keep track—a couple of mourning doves came to inspect a flowerpot that hangs from the ceiling of my porch. They went back and forth, inspecting the flowerpot, for a day or two, and then they left. A few weeks later they were back […]
I will not be the last man to tell you
your smile,contaminated with purity, contains the sun, moon, and starsIf I were a patriarch, I would order incenseto be burned before it.
Twin Flame
Search as I will, I cannot find the cause.Reunited with you, it doesn’t seem to matter, so holy and instinctual is this passion, the hummingbirds bring us offerings of flowers
If I Were a Philosopher
You know, a rose is not beautiful It is a clump of organic matter pulled from the dirt Transform it into a symbol.Attend to it. Make it beautiful I am not a philosopher. I am just a boy in love. You have my attention. But you knew that already.
Nothing we see is color
Cezanne said that but no one believed him All we really seeis light valiantly massacred the mineral-laden earth with its zillions of herbal veins and carnivorous flowers mere pinpoints of light reverberations of molecular light adorned with ornaments of human bones