I don’t know.
Which direction to go?
“No answer,” has been
My answer for a long run.
An attempt
At staying in the flow,
At the mercy of
The wind’s blow.
Abdication of responsibility
In my non-responsive state.
Time to put my root down,
Stand firm in all that
I aim to create.

dark impulses

a need to be loved.
ever moving toward balance
in all things.
all the temptations of
incarnation in the flesh.
my desires for honesty
and openness.
essentially, the essence of
being a human.
dark as in base impulses,
inborn impulses,
the kind of drives coiled deeply
into ones soul
while still gestating in
the fertile darkness of the womb.
driven by an
unconditional loving-kindness,
that love a mother feels
for her child before
they are even born,
that love the darkness
we are born from
holds for all her children,
now and always.
manifest fear can be
such a small thing.
i face it over and over again,
forever falling off cliffs
into the abyss.
how many times must one visit
tartarus before it starts to feel
like a second home?
we came from chaos.
from darkness.
from nothing.
does it really deserve our fear?
perhaps irreverent reverence
would better do the trick.
free will has plenty a surprise
up her sleeve,
you best believe it.

Once or Twice

Is it every seven years your cells replace themselves & we are reborn? Numerology says the same more or less, plus or minus your birthday, or I forget… But for me it comes in mood swings or mania or existential depressions that span decades. I’ve been down for a while now but I feel that old spring click & I’m about ready to launch onto a new era or euphoria & I know how it feels to soar so high & I know at the end I’ll crash & burnout, but I love it. Here we go again. (Hold on rollercoasterride, precious life, precariously dear.)

I ❤ U

All the
smallbeautiful things
I want to share with you in
Old blankets
And lived-in journal pages…
Good-night, dear-
Good, isn’t it?
How you
just sort of…
Fall in love – Don’t you?


freed of thought,
having walked in before.
and god loves our questions,
our psalms to be with kindness,
our own death the meaning
we’re living as authors for.

Fifty-Eight Degrees and Cloudy

Follow the raven,
Flow on the wind’s wishes
Over telephone wires
And the tip-tops of
Tree branches budding,
Chimes singing up and down
Our street in the breeze.
(Call me, call me,
Up and down the road,
Call me, call me,
And there we go…)

On the Fence

Maybe it’s just us.
We’re the weird ones
That want to be walled off.
Is it so wrong
To want boundaries
And to want those lines
Herein lies treasures
Worth protecting.
(My patience,
My solitude,
My privacy,
My will
To pass through
Moments in time,
Minute spaces,