a florescent light in the ceiling tile
that connects to the cinderblock wall
that connects to the amber tile floor
that reaches the foot of your plain bed
that holds your aching body.
a nurse by your side
that touches your shoulder
and a doctor at your feet
shaking his stern cold head.
a butcher knife between your shoulder blades
and a fork between your legs.
a spoon in your throat
and tooth picks pricking your eyes
‘til they overflow
and drip onto your gown.
a hard plate against your forehead
that holds the weight of their judgment.
a mixer on the table
where he’s grinding your heart.
a bracelet on your wrist
that scratches scars into your arm.
another person in the room.
a skeleton hanging from the ceiling
and it has teeth and bones
a phone in its hand
that’s awaiting anxious news
heartbreak in its empty face.
clothes that fell from its bones
and onto your bed.
the doctor leaving the room.
There is the plate against your head.
There is the fork between your legs.
There is the spoon in your throat,
There is the skeleton that stares without eyes
at your clothes on your bed.
There are your hands that move
from your eyes to your breathless mouth
holding your grinding teeth
to your empty chest
to the fork between your
There are your hands
that shove the plate of judgment on your forehead to the ground,
pry out the fork and the toothpicks and the butcher knife.
There are your hands
that empty the mixer and fill your chest.
There are your feet that reach the floor and shuffle.
There are your hands that pull ‘til your clothes are on
and cover it all.
There are your hands
that find the grace to hold the grief of death in your heart
and courage in your new bones.
There are your arms
that wrap your body together like a baby.
There are your pale white cheeks
that catch the metal dripping from your eyes.
There is your spine that knows
the tomb of water awaiting your homecoming.
There are skeletons of times past
that float in those waves
who will rejoice in your swimming deeper
to carry out a spark of fire
from the depths of your ocean
so they can all see again.
There is your skeleton hanging from the ceiling
that connects to the cinderblock walls
that connect to the window
that looks out to the sunrise.
There are leaves of trees already struck by Fire and Mother.
Now they drift weeping to the ground
returning home, pulling in and down
dying to live anew…
still a life for you to bring light to.
She calls on Water
and asks me what happens
when I descend with him
into the unknown.
I pause and look down,
my hands touch and weave.
The sun on my arm
from the dark night of my sleeve.
My eyes well up as I say
We go deep,
so deep into that space
and hold each other
in revered embrace…
So simple –
I talk and he reflects,
his silence –
the architect of respect…
There, Times’ tired hands
rest and unwind
Futures imagined no more…
A dream of us appears
as I’ve seen it before…
We stand at a waterfall,
who’s daunting yet kind
who grinds us ‘til we know
we are aligned and combined…
The alchemy of perception
happens through its own vow
Here histories long past
know their life to be now.
There’s magic in the night
Potency rears her fine head
Unknowing insight once percolated
from soil that bled red.
The Water that falls
knows Her way up as well…
She cradles the darkened
groans of our heart
imparting them as the wisest of art.
His presence is mine
so inconceivably kind
We see through the illusion
of Time’s deep confusion.
This is the end of the endless vision…
I come back to his voice
as he says he knows
what I am to him
when he abides in his shadows…
Funny, I say in response,
when we slip to the unknown
and blindly roam
you say I’m your north star,
and you’re my home.
The café now feels steeped in water
The sun on my arm drifts quickly to sleep
as I tug down the dark night of my sleeve
and use it to catch grateful tears
as Time slips on his gears.
Silhouettes of trees
want to stretch through my fingers
reclaiming their being
as mandalas with meandering lines
on the drapery of this crinkled paper…
A life with new form
cut down and sliced thin
forced to flatten their roundness
and tallness of vision
I see who they want to be again.
She trained herself out of answering
the pleading of women under the ground
for Mother is still cold and pregnant with their souls.
Their minds sleep restless in landscapes of darkness
their eyes still forming the capacity to cradle
the emptiness needed to perceive.
She saw me the moment I emerged
from the delighted tunnel in the ground
and watched me as I wandered through her barren meadow
toward the familiar profile of brown crooked things.
She saw my curious mind rejoice in how they stretched up
to a sapphire ceiling holding a sparkling fare.
She waited as my mind thought thoughtlessly
about the peculiarity of this precision of vision,
about how they stretched above me
instead of around and below.
She saw the moment I felt at home
in the space between their stretched out bellies.
She knew I could feel the affection and protection
and nurturing devotion
just the same as before I could see them.
Right then she heard my song
fall down from the bubbling wells in my heels
and rise up from the tallest part of me
like gentle smoke knowing trajectory.
Owl sees the full scope of me in my song
my light airy acoustic and discordant bass
that syncopate and sequence in full-bellied space
She saw me and swooped down behind
from the darkening velvet I want to touch
My eyes drift shut in delight and tenderness
I can see her taking care of me
until my hair mirrors her snow white feathers
All the while I paint the wise voices and cries of the trees
and the plants and soil, and the wind
that carries the blush, saturation
luminosity and stain
of forgotten songs and ancestral vision
The trees reclaim their being in a world made of them
I see who I will be through times’ end
as I see who they want to be again.
If love is the essence of our nature
then you have become the anchor to my home within homes
As we stretch and take new form
we quench the world, a gentle storm…
We tug the layers off the soles
of our thousands of feet
as to watch the wander
of caring abandon and sprawled out wonder…
No sunglasses or sweatshirts or dullness of vision
No elements pin us to single position
Because when I stroke your back,
lying next to you
the universe finds cosmos in
freckles in queue…
If to be is to be perceived
and to know thyself is only possible
through the eyes of the other
is there realness in my self or another?
Is there fabric in the soles of my feet, or fingers or toes?
Or “me”, or “you” or all these grand shows?
I will love you, yes this I swear
as in this moment and beyond all space and time
we cease and begin again as “two” divine “ones”
As we dissolve there will be only love
no wrong or right or below or above
no measure of beauty or grace or wretchedness
Unshackled, love far beyond a trace of “you”
You ignite me to the nature of what’s true.
I will love you
until we cease to appear as two…
There, in the fabric of that fruitful space
pure love, our only remaining trace…
I remember so long ago
head spinning and numb
dread scraping low
into the underbellies of my eyes
Full and fuller
‘til they spilled over…
I remember the rotting leaves
around exposed tree roots
cozied in their deep crevices
I begged them to show me
what comfort is…
Grief finds his anchor
my erupting eyes
and finds his reservoir
in my creaking stomach
Food is its only prayer
Mind is afraid to care
Panic found her kingdom
deep in my heart
She put my pulse to rest
all consciousness caressed
and lured to a forced refuge
to the darkest depths
for nurturing breaths…
I remember fearing my own
craving for starvation.
I believed myself
worthy of damnation
unless I held someone up
to their salvation.
I relive this often
years long past
wondering when will be the last
trace of this horror film
still haunting my dreams
Just bearing witness to it
still tears me open at the seams…
When had I denied myself
the last taste of sweetness?
How did I remember
the call in my parched lung
and fall to a run
down, down, so far down
I journey to underworlds
through the veins of trees
that have sent honeyed kisses
lingering in the breeze
When I finally feel Her embrace
with the power to erase –
Reach close, my love
Be still, my heart
Know you’re my art
I’ve awaited your vision
past Minds’ division
and inhibiting indecision
Remember you are me
and I am you
as you wake to your craft
you birth me anew
Paint yourself into being
Death lives long and wild
while Life dies beguiled
Love you as you love others
See the dissolve of intimate lovers
Embrace every emotion
Abandon permanent notion
To free yourself here
means freedom everywhere
in all times and timelessness
through space and spacelessness
Up is down, my love
Future is past
Within is without
Awake is asleep
Separation is the rout
that carves the air
Nourish yourself before another
This, you find in me, your Mother
Find the unity in severance
Watch it unfold in deep reverence
Absorb the texture of us
Again, as we appear to meet…
Do you remember a taste or embrace so sweet?