Your soul, my soul older than the moon once we gathered the dawn brought with us the newest year the wildest of flowers the oldest of souls. We meditated, prayed, waited until water was born, saw it bubble from the…
This poem expresses an emotional state known as Clanalas, which expresses the genetic memory of unresolved grief and memories of loss. Looking Toward the Devil’s Head Mountain from a Hilltop East of Sundre, Alberta Dedicated to Stan Ghostkeeper, a School…
Long listened I to water flowdeep down, everrevealing patience to stonemy heart in darkness.Love left me while Ilistened. Love lay alone, heavy, alone. Flow again it must to stay alivebut the bones of my beingare soft with grievingall native fire,…
Gravity arrived swathed in dull brown cloud weighed me down feet to the floor. Woke me, saw weeping ooze of red wounds caught enfolded silence green daisies yet closed floods, waves of amulet sworn fealty woke my throat. Forgotten now.…
This poem documents an experience that took place when I was about 13 years old. The events unfolded as described. I found the experience difficult to remember, you will see why as you listen, but when I recently thought to explore the…
I When I first felt that delicate brush that soft touch of something more, something other a wider awareness. Was it some where beyond myself. Hearing a voice but there was no voice no words no thoughts only a gentle touch. I felt it…
My little-girl-heart broke open with wonderwhen I first heard the Call of Magicand the promise of Wishes Three.Three Wishes? For me? I had no will to resist. None.I knew how much I would do with three wishes.I wouldn’t waste them,…
There is a shadowlandbetween our hearts:A still place. I cannot reach you there.You cannot hear my dove,my song of searching,the soft coo of my voice. I miss you so.Is there a grace to be foundin giving ’way, letting go? What…
The curse rides inside me.I fall through black ice,frozen, helpless, twisting.Spine cracks,Legs hang limp, hands grasp empty air.Eyes stare blind, wide open to the sunretinas are burnt, evacuated.Hunger lives. Never dies.Wounds ooze by day,heal at midnight, thenbleed again at dawn.Sleep…
She was so much the lost poet herselfher long brown hair wound up on her head,her slender navy dress with the cigarette burnnear the hem. Her face tilted down towardbooks resting on her bent left arm.Huge eyes behind seas of…