crescent moon

even the light of the crescent moon is enough
to highlight the beautiful and the quiet
that sings through cicadas and crickets
in a rare warm evening breeze;
and you would be forgiven
if you wanted to stand in this place,
to breath it in forever

even the light of the crescent moon is enough
to dispel the sad dark hearts that linger
over the graves of regret and past mistakes;
may we whisper prayers of forgiveness
to ourselves and the ones who tore us up
for the sake of the ones who tore them up

i will be everyone

i saw her standing on an old gold 1950’s velvet couch
and for a moment i remembered being her in that place
standing in California pastels with sunlight from the windows
yearning for a man i don’t know but probably knew once
realizing that, given enough time, we will be everyone
realizing that, given enough time, we will be everywhere
and there is enough time for each of us to be each of us
what an irony of force fed empathy and understanding


ah i see,
i see
you have come undone
in the raging wind
that pulls your threads apart
and scatters them to the east;
but now
you are no longer bound
to this place and this time,
you are seeds lifted to the skies
and sent into the gray world
as rainbow spot lit shreds
of a previous whole
to touch the uncountable ones.

ah i see,
i see
you have come undone,
you have gone on the run
a glittering, wild presence
under a loving and life-giving sun,
and this is not to be mourned
because you are so much more
to be scattered on every shore
as witness to what you are
now brazen, embracing champion
of what you will become
while a million, million birds
weave you into their nests
and sing songs of nurturing
in your beautiful presence

for you are the stuff of life!

lean in

lean in
close to the canvas,
you can almost
taste the colour
laid down
as cheek,
as lips,
as bright gaze,
look hopeful
past your face;

lean in
close to the canvas
’til the paint
becomes a part of you;
you once one
now intermingled two;
you once one
now intersex’d two;
a dream of life
lifted from a static, flat place;
you once one
now a living, breathing thin space
dancing with your own
beautiful creation

lean in
there is a new world waiting

in the dark

there i am
a sputtering, flashing spark
fighting the pressing days
screaming quiet in the dark
that i might present a smile
to the beautiful wide world

so i take my bits and pieces
and crush them in my fists
until they change to harder words
that i might lock my broken away
into this small box of poems
i carved with my heart and bones

and sometimes i extinguish myself
to sit quiet in my numbing black
cherishing the feeling of nothing
while the waves crash in the distance
like an ocean a world away
that can never erode me further


the lights of the ceiling fan
stare back at me from their reflection
in the old bedroom window
like large, yellow, studious eyes
peering into our home in shocked surprise

and this is how I give life
to the world around me these days;
by accident and with lack of intent
as my surroundings animate
and look on in shocked surprise.

“this…this is our creator?
we had hoped for blazing life;
we had wished to be…more
than some distant, faint, photostat
pressed between panes of glass
trapped in two dimensions”

but i don’t listen,
i let them scream
as the sun rises
and they fade to memory
and beyond.
while i wander away whispering:

“Plato warned you,
he warned us all;
this is the price of existence
from rise to fall.”