In the silence and misunderstandings that separate us
I need to believe there is a place where we can meet
a place of mottled light where the only shadows
are painted by ancient firs who conspiratorially lean
open, welcoming hands down to greet us.

It is a place where all thoughts of judgment and jealousy
are simply too petty for consideration
love being implicit in the moisture of the air
words are unnecessary for our eyes reveal
everything we ever want to say.

Fear and resentment are unknown here
we refuse to recognize them if they slither
into this haven while we are sleeping
restful, innocent, unworried
history does not exist, the moment held is enough.

If this vision were dispelled, my soul could not sustain
reality’s weight.  I would be battered, fragile
as a spiraled whelk on deceptively smooth rocks
splintered by hate and unwillingness
to be as the sea, fluid and graceful, all encompassing.

Will you come with me here?  
Or is the hour too late?
We can meet in this hollow sacred space
and begin again, let loose misconceptions
clouding the life we share.          

The path is faint
trust your weary heart
it will lead us to each other.

She was a girl,
with no place to go.....

Walking the streets,
because that's all she knows....

She sells her body,
to anyone for money.....

Twenty for a *******,
fifty for a lay.....

Enough to get her dope,
So she won't be sick for the day....

With a pump by her side,
she gives him her money.

But it's not enough,
so he beats her everyday....

Yet, does she feel secure,
or just scared everyday....

Day to day she ***** away,
a *** slave in America....

As her life knows,
no other way....

i woke up with my head buzzing.
i looked around myself and saw
nothing but white. everything was
white or covered in white. it was like
i was in heaven, but the white started
to burn my eyes, sickly white.
                               sickly white...

i looked down at myself and saw
that i was wearing something that
looked like a dress gown, something
that i never owned before, i played
with the cloth and noticed wires
protruding out of my wrist and arm.

when my finger grazed the wires,
i felt myself waver and fade away,
into darkness. i slowly started to
feel numb and all i could see was
black. black. black..

This path we
tread
is but a
thread
in  a
greater
garment.

Something I would tell you son
that's only known to me
a burden it is knowing alone
it's time I share with thee.

Shocking was what he revealed to me
tragic too was the tale
of a woman's loss of dignity
her passing thru fire of hell.

Her I have held in high esteem
her sanctity locked in trust
never knew she was a sad victim
of a man's monstrous lust.

My father felt it would only be fair
it needed him just to be brave
with son the secret he must share
not carry alone to the grave.

I hold it now that grave secret
father left his job was done
burdened with a heavy weight
that I can't share with son.

The woman she is still alive
knocking on ninety's door
her skin a shade of dried beehive
she remembers not anymore.

the thunder of
a small bird.

a poem grows shadows
and moonscapes,

the moon,
withered sapphires,
undone,
her open windows
a thread of bright
light.