I planted a garden to share.Trust and hope, and herbs, I placed there.The herbs flourished. And just when the herbs were pungent and their healing noteswere ripe, my friend withdrew.Closed the gate. Stepped outside.Closed her heart. Here is what to…
Behind the waterfall,into the longing, the roarof water at the center of the worlddown into deep folded groovesof ancient life, down to the rootsI sink. Through elemental ooze, Istretch into the night-flow,find my raw under-skin, open my mouth. Where the…
Phoenix drops down from her silver perchto gaze into my inner eyewhen dawn brings herin a flood of liquid rose. She stands beside me, restless, waiting.Sees my rage, my utter disappointment.I immolate under her vastly approving gaze. She slides the…
“I said to Dawn: Be sudden – to Eve: Be soon; With thy young skiey blossoms heap me over from this tremendous Lover –” Francis Thompson, The Hound of Heaven, 1917 I long heard your laughter,your bubbling, roaring mirtha sky-ringing…
(for my daughter) Before I woke, I saw you.A wave of sunlightlifted you across my thresholdwith your arms full of flowers. Or, perhaps I was remembering my own heartcoming back to me through the years?I saw floating inner lights,circles joined.…
Light flows out of darkness: Apollo’s caress comes to the Earthin his own time, frames each ridge-ed peak, molds every rounded valley.His steady, beaten rhythmheals by touchall scars left to her fervent body I lie awake in this place of…
I am one of those lost northern geeseblown here in the nighton wings that now falter,my certain, feathered grip now loosenedin the thin high mountain air. Where I used to soar, I now drift.Where I once lifted my voice, I…
(For John Townsend, May, 2017) We, two, together, enclosed, pairedsee inward.We know the fire that burnsin places hidden from the outward eye. We, as one,have long gathered applewood,each for the other. We lie in the coals, we warm each otherwith…
Oh my loveare you tired yet? Do you long to lift yourself up, step free of this body?Do you thirst for distant, deeper water? Your hands cold, your pulse scantyour skin, a flayed parchmentwhite, thin-stretched over your skull. You can…
I wish we could turn our kaleidoscopea little to the left, perhaps.Or, just a littleto the right. . . Can we shift our vision,see anew the patternsthat have frozen within us,that no longer move? Can we find the trick of…