The likes of a ground-needy creature like me

Caught in the toss of the wind, so send me.

Though I can’t fend for myself, nerves on my skin,

In the power of her majesty the ocean’s bend.

Sensitive wants of my face,

Spitting out the taste of the wind-riders,

The fast-spinning haste of tiny gliders,

Once in my eyes I am blind to my way,

I am prey

To the beating of sky,

The biting of sea,

And the eating of earth.


Have your way

With me.

I will lay face down, body and ground flush,

And let the particles rush in,

Till I can crush them beneath my teeth,

And mush them against my tongue,

And usher them down my throat,

And let my eyes gush with tears of objection.


I will lay arms wide, under the mighty gale,

As it slaps me like a stingray

And plays with my hair,

And my skirt is the sail of the day.


And then I will stand with the sands

Pouring out of my spread hands,

Carried and cleansed through the open glands.


And I’ll walk till my feet

Start to bleed at the ice of the shore,

And I’ll only walk, but the waves love to leap,

Taking my floor, pillars nothing to bear,

Throwing my soar, outstretched with no air,

Unanimous yes of the four,

Engulf me down in the deep.


One is Four

1 reigns in prominence, the Sun

2 married stars, the Sun and Moon

3 light waves generating One

4 shining brightly like the Noon


5 stones with wings to win the battle

5 prey birds driven from the nest

6 the Arch-Enemy when rattled

7 He one-uped him in His rest


8 newborn Earth beneath the Sunlight

9 rays empowering its runners

10 hurdles set to taunt the Moonlight

11 adrenaline of overcomers


12 fathers giving seed for nations

12 mothers bearing in their wombs

40 hours of labor, faith, and patience

50 flowers jubilant at bloom


1 the only whole without a count

2 the only even also prime

3 universal mystical amount

4 the double’s double, love shall chime

Masked Off

Masking tape, masking me,

Bound in the sticky strips tightening,

So that I can play hide and seek,

I can feel safe here

Staring at the blackness and feeling the shelter of this cove,

Unseen, unknown,

I don’t have to feel anymore the negligence of response,

As I offer up my lollipop and nobody tastes it,

I don’t have to feel alone anymore

If I make myself completely alone.


Take it off. I know

We need to take it off,

But I don’t want to.

To dance alone makes me feel like a statue.

I would rather be a statue.

To breathe alone makes me feel suffocated.

I would rather not breathe.

And to see alone makes it feel gray.

I would rather stay in the fog.


But I can be brave.

My heart can be strong.

I can touch the faces of mummies

And hold their cheekbones like they are still alive.

I can stare, I will stare

Into flittering eyes.

Diamond Voices

Tall and proud they stand,


By the wind of wings spanned

Wider than the horizon,

Which rise as high and grand as the sky,

Then fall with force and land with gusto

Across an earth that burns to fly.

Hair blowing in the flight of the wings,

Flowing to the rhythm of singing choruses,

Alive with the beat,

Alive like a forest,

They raise their heels from floors,

And place their feet

To the wing beat,

Ba-beat, ba-beat,

Ba-beat, ba-beat,

Take a seat.

Introducing the council of diamond voices,

Risin from lone islands,

They gather to make choices,

Stirring up the distant noises,

Climbin with momentum to chime in,

and challenge what Simon says.

Speaking from new places,

From the lovely array of inner spaces,

The mazes,

That were called too complicated,

And so locked up into cases,

And if opened, they were called cases,

Cases of craze.

But the cases are warping into vases,

And  displaying roses,

The standard pose erases,

The same ways that were called weakness

Are blooming like oasis.

And giving off a fragrance

Filling endless words and phrases,

With outspokenness.

The traces of brokenness fading,

New life radiating,

On their self-reflecting faces.

Let the high places that step

Toward the unjust direction,


For the women are speaking from their depths,

With full inflection.

When the meek speak,

From the places that ache,

When the soft stakes aloft,

The mountain will break.

When the fragile turns agile,

The world will shake.

A Quarter After Nine

A quarter after nine

Tell me the difference between your heart and mine

A day wound up

The final wound moments for full words and wine

If music were to play

It’d be almost eerie as we skate on our day

If someone were to sing

It’d echo like a winter bird ready for spring

If the moon were like sun

It would cue us to know when our talking was done

But the dark doesn’t change,

And so we dissolve into hours unarranged

If I wrote of the past,

I’d journal those moments into memories that last.

But this I’ve neglected,

So they’ll stay in the darkness, in realms undetected

And no other will know

Of the fragment of life where the night passes slow

And even we will forget,

Our exchanges that had no agendas inset

But when morning arrives

To awaken productivity back into our lives,

All the dull will taste fine,

Due to hearts that were drifting for hours past nine


For his daughters,

Sometimes the drug comparisons

Don’t rhyme with the fair-as-sun

Tissues of her heart.


Wacked and cracked,

Wrecked and rocked,


Messed up.


But within she can’t stand one ounce more of brandy,

And whatever hard liquor is supposed to violently ram

You hammered

Back into spirit land.


Whatever happened to




Doesn’t want an intense encounter,

Always riding on the next wave of banter

That’s expected to mount her

Up on the shoulders

To finally see over

The crowd around her.



Doesn’t want the extremities

Of the newly boasted remedies

Of spiritual activities,

To finally be

The rarity

That will catch that eye.


That eye.

That’s what.

She wants.

That eye.


She couldn’t find that eye

From this guy or that guy.

But she needed that eye.


All these years, it was hide, hide, hide!

And her shame was a bright red flame of a letter,

That no matter how she tried,

She couldn’t hide,

What her heart cried for.


Hide, hide, hide! The voices unified.

That and that and that

All unfit for a Bride.

Don’t let them see the light.

You must be dignified.


But that and that and that,

Would not lay flat,

They squirmed

Like a kenneled cat.


One day

She simplified.

She went back

to He died.

He rose.

It’s certified.


And she looked and she nearly died

By the way she was eyed.


His eyes identified

That and that and that,

And said, I made them all in fact,

And all are my delight,

For all of you is glorified.


And a billion veins mangled deep inside

Were re-angled, re-opened, to let run

The blood that floods from his side.


She became the woman on the moon,

Who knows but only how to swoon

To the tune of,

I love you.


My Father!

He’s my mold’s potter,

And he thought up to make up


He gave me a heart like his fire.

And he gave me hair like my heart.


He could only treasure

What is truly precious,

With this infectious measure

Of his pure pleasure.


Don’t know if there ever

Has been a love like this.

Don’t know if I ever

Will get over it.

For my forever-now is electrified

By the way that I am eyed.

A friend on the sand

A friend on the sand

Glides with the tread of a hooded figure,

Floating on the painted shadows

In the distance.




We stand vulnerable in the center

Of our eyes spanning

A sanded cove,

Being swallowed by a big-mouthed tide,

Whose belly rumbles

From deep in the heart of the earth,

Where the blue whales call.


But even ocean is overtaken

By a settling fog in the thick of the night,

A presence that scares away the unknowingness of darkness

With its own commanding vice,

Filling up space with a gray nothingness,

An eraser smudging the fine black lines.


Water and air bond into blurred partnership with


Eerie expanse.


The fog draws you forward like blind prey,

Toward the laughing and the daring

Of the sea,

Each step into sand like stepping off a spaceship,

Into the blackness of the solar system.

With the arrogant whoosh of a magician’s cape,

It discloses, one after another, disturbing pieces

Of the ocean’s art,

As you turn the corners of its haunted house.


A mass of mossy leaves,

Flung out forward but reaching desperately backward,

Frozen in the sprawl of the final struggle

That separated weed from sea.

The sudden change in ground texture,

From soft, inviting, rolling, dirt,

To raw foot touching biting snow,

Surprising its visitor with an early entry,

While tide takes its time far behind.


Then a slight but understood roar.

A paused intruder with poor reflexes gapes

At the quick-running paint spilling up the shore.

Then retreat!

Leaping back toward the dry ground,

Not nearly an evenly matched race,

For tide always overtakes.


And there in the frightening shadows,

In the insecurity of limited but heightened sensory,

In the layering of multiple earth mysteries,

The sea snaps heals with an icy sting,

And its guest is caught in what turns out to be

A harmless game,

Laughing all the way back past the seaweed monsters.