No human husband
could ever hold me.

Comforts, gathered,
began to stifle.

While he slept,
I would search.

Somewhere, my
seal's skin
was hidden.

It was just a
matter of time.

In the innermost chamber of the heart,
is a room where the intellect can be quiet and rest.
Here, these two old friends are on equal footing.

Neither struggles for the upper hand.
They have often smiled at each other across
the heavy wooden table placed between them.

Leaning in, they talk about your day.
"Did you feel that moment when we stood
shoulder to shoulder, and she felt it?"

Like some windless river in an ancient city,
where both shores are made of good grey granite,
they feel everything you feel, and gently stand their ground.

Dive down into
the Sea of Words,
flip my mermaid tail    
to the passersby.

Dive down deep
to the bottom
of the sea, the
very deepest depths
of this salty sea.

When I come up
to the surface again,
starfish weave shells
into my auburn hair,
while sirens sing
new words to me.

Vast expanse of
emerald waters,
Sea of Words
you are my home.

Sometimes, a poem is a letter
and this one is for you.

Living your open life
under Irish woolen skies,
dreaming of having
a candle shop by the sea.

"It's a dream that'll
never come true."
you say,
and that may be so.

Still, I can see it.

Latticed windows, on either side
of a deep blue door, a myriad of
little candles, nestled in thick glass jars,
glimmer purple, and beckon to the passerby.

Outside, a salty wind carries on
all by itself, about where it has been,
and where it is going.

You smile at the sound, looking beyond
your quiet thoughts. The blue door opens.
A new friend has just come to see you.

Afraid to sleep,
we keep on working.
Afraid to sleep,
We meet the dawn
from either end.

When light comes,
its continuity calms us
and ancestors watch over us,
as we sleep in fits and starts.

Outside the kitchen door,
Señor Romero's own grapevine
says: "Buenos dias!", says
"Gracias a la vida!"

Into this world
of ancient earthen homes
heated by fragrant native wood
comes gentle and silent snow.

Within the delicate fibers
of this newly formed heart
one tapestry is being woven.

Its indeterminate colors
barely visible, shimmer.

Longing, and loving
one presence, dancing closely
finding balance and resolution
in this sound, in this knowing
in shraddha.

Leora,
when you sing,


God comes and listens.



And your father,
red headed, 

red bearded,
full of joy and 

loving,
tender pride,
visits us.



Where he lives now,


in the heaven neighborhood of 

my own parents,
singing this good 

is still special.
Only humans made into angels

 know how to make those sounds.

Leora,


when you sing,


the clouds dance 

above us,


and joy, pride,
nachus,


is all we feel.

In only minutes, surging wind brought rain, then pounding hail into this verdant canyon. The mountain disappeared into the mist, and in its place the full arc of a brightening rainbow. Almost as quickly, the mountain's face reappeared, while more rain poured down, now through brilliant sunlight. The rainbow remains, plunging its feet into the very roots of the valley.

Inter-species dating never had it so good.
Shape-shifting constantly, he could be a man one minute,
a bear the next.
Old as the hills, then young as Apollo.

In her butterfly form she fluttered near his head,
and if he was a bear just then, and had
eaten no honey, this could be dangerous.

If he was a man, and was at peace, the colors of her
powdery wings would delight him beyond measure.
Blowing by him lightly, she would swoon a bit,
and the transformation would begin.

Dark eyes, slender arms, a thick mane of hair,
all the attributes of a woman would suddenly appear.

When they were at peace together, oceans became full
and smooth as glass,
sacred rivers flowed together, and their separate colors
became a new one.

But like some planets, their orbits were unsteady.
Peace was fleeting.

A tremor would go through the worlds,
and the fighting would begin.

Monumental destruction ensued.
Cinders blew by where hearts had been.

Over time, and blessed by journeys through the sky,
a new peace was formed, in friendship.
A new understanding began.
A trust began to build.

An end to this story is unthinkable.

Images flow
from the river inside you,
and you make them whole and real.
As for me,
this chasm of light that holds my heart,
sparkles around you
like phosphorescence  
in a salty sea.

Pale winter sunlight
pours over my left shoulder.
Swelling gibbous moon
lodges itself,
lives here,
for now,
in my tiny chest.

You may not have meant to
and you probably didn't  
but your smile
and your voice
have left soft footprints on my heart.
Because of that, as soon as you left
I had to get up and dance,
alone here on the gallery floor,
amongst the paintings I am meant to be selling.

Like a small bird
gathering bright objects for her nest,
I am gathering life.

Hands which reached out to me lead me on,
so I left at their bidding
for an ocean in the East.

Traveling through the night
as if lost in a waking dream,
I came at last to her proximity
and slept in an unknown room.

In the morning light,
beyond the highways,
I suddenly saw her, all April morning
blue and still.
Ocean water bathed my feet,
rinsed the crystal beads and pearls
I had worn to greet her.

Deep in the woods now, I see temples everywhere.
In the woodland light, some churches are.
Pagodas of bark and moss in the filtered light,
Ice caverns blue and still begin to melt
beside the waterfall that thunders down,
breathing mist in our faces, garlanding itself
in rainbow light.

In the small city airport
I am folded into the arms of my mother-of-pearl.
Salt water flows easily from my eyes -
like the sweet nectar filling my mouth.
"E facile per le farfalle di volare, sai."

I walk out into the grey-wet airfield,
screaming sounds of engines.
Walking forward, I close my eyes,
and the world is only light.

Now, I have come back to you,
with marzipan, and peacock feathers,
and stories of my adventures.

The light blazes, and the stars
send down their song.

The Universe is singing.

Before the light comes,
the wind comes.
The wind of God.
The wind of God travels
all over the Earth,
awakening the night-sleeping birds,
bringing freshness to every land.
New hope, even where we are troubled,
or grieving, or suffering.
Often these days, this wind of God
blows through my open heart.
And it frees me to love totally,
to love innocently, to love bravely,
As God loves us.