Thursday, February 14, 2013


In water pulled from aquifers muddy lineage
i marvel at nails planted upon the tops of toes
incapable of suction, grappling gecko-like to the brick of things
legs skinny and ill-suited for withstanding years of running, leaping & kneeling
upon alters thick with the incense & faith of the night
pages tuned & burned by use & hope
veins deep & raised - swelling to allow the pulse & rhythm of blood :
copper & crimson
hands small, and clumsy
ill-suited for holding onto things
our fist of heart - fragile & transient
veiled in the alkaloids of red clay & garden beds
yet down our spine runs the Milky Way . . .
vast & hydrogen-starred
white phosphorus
incapable of remembering the hollow rattle of bones
and the songs of larks . .

Tuesday, February 12, 2013


sometimes ...
when one is not looking, 
not paying close enough attention
a shift occurs 
a shift in the earth beneath your feet
a shift in the focus & light gleaning into the circus kaleidoscope 
the colors mute and bleed, leaving one
less full 
shapes can not be determined, purple becomes blue becomes green becomes
over the events that could crash about one in puddles & shards of emptiness
the fog rolls in cold & hollow - veiling the light
the indigo bubbles fail to rise and your soul is left
in a labyrinth of regret & desire
circling as a thin, grey wolf would 
hunt: solitary & famished
how does one keep striving in the shift 
how does one believe in the power of .... love
darkness aches for the wound in the soul 
and yet .....
there is a smell ....
earth & moistness 
something alive and new ....
really  ?
or is it merely another trick of the kaleidoscope 
shake it


close your eyes and listen ....