come and join
the wildflowers
in the place where
it’s okay
to be
yourself

i do not need
a man
i only need
the wandering light
of the world
that has touched
every rosebud
that has burst to life
and lived to tell the tale
of the traveling light

a ribbon of fire
a curl of lace
and your eyes swimming
in the fishbowl
of my heart

so the river came
and bled at my feet
and the river ran
and took refuge
in my heart
and the river flowed
and brought life back
to my bones

the dead of night
isn’t dead at all
it is a living mystery
born each day
of Mother Dusk

darling,
there are winds
and then
there are ghosts
the hard part
is knowing
which is kissing your cheek

i know what
the lost girls knew
that the lost boys
wouldn’t tell them
because boys don’t
want their girls
to be found
but the girls aren’t
listening to the boys
anymore

i lived in a house
of lost things
until i realized
everything is where
it should be
and suddenly
the house of lost things
was the only thing
that was lost

she is a
true pretender—
the kind that
never returns
to the scene
of the crime
where reality
was murdered

a single tree
in a field
doesn’t feel lonely—
be like that tree
and realize
you are rooted
to everything

you sit by
the light of the window
and i see that
there is a light in you
and you look out
at that summer-time view
and i only look at you
because from where i’m standing
and from what i’m seeing
it’s always summer
and nothing else

when the moon rose high in the sky
like a white tiger ready to pounce
he said breathe
and when the sun peeked out behind grey clouds
like something hot and new and immortal
still he said, just breathe
and when the rain came and swept everything away
including the white pearls
picked from oysters falling in love
still he whispered,
just breathe,
the moon is not what you think
and the sun can bear more than you know
and the rain
will bring everything to you
when the river is ready to flow

if you don’t like what you see
in the reflection—
it’s okay
just step through the
looking glass instead
to a place where
none of that matters

you are beauty
in a nut shell
finally breaking free
of what it means
to be beautiful

i am pleased to meet
the one you love,
the one who doesn’t know me,
the one who cannot tell
the difference between
the brave curve
of the moon
and the silver hilled *****
of your spine
when you bend to kiss
the dead flowers
that forgot to grow
at my feet

when autumn strikes
the leaves fall and
the trees lose their memories

that is why it’s so easy
for them to blossom
come spring time

they know nothing
of heartbreak

they don’t even remember
their love for Lady Summer,
the one they swore
would never die

lie down gently, softly
beneath a whimpering tree
and let sweet blossom tears
rain down on you
before it’s too late

when we were very young—
i was a monster
and you were a monster
and together we picked flowers
and we didn’t know that monsters
weren’t allowed in the gardens

when we first became monsters
we celebrated with balloons
but now i wonder if the balloons
were begging to be let go of
and if maybe they found a better home
in the sky than in our hands

and after a while
once we’d gotten used to being monsters
we folded paper into birds and named each one
after all the reasons why we weren’t monsters
but then all the reasons why we were

there is a tree
and when you
lie down in the
arms of its bare branches
it hugs you
with all the light
of the sun

there may be
millions of rain drops
but they all come
from the same storm
and the storm always says
the same thing

i’m not telling what though
you’ll have to sit
and listen

there is a room
of light
that even blinds the sun
and when you sit down
it is the silence
that speaks louder
than any dance
or boardroom meeting
and the windows
are not even windows
but eyes also
blinded by the light
and all four corners
of this room
are birds ready to take flight

“is this a dream?”
the girl asks
the shadow on the hill.
“i’ve swallowed a stone
as big as the world
and now i don’t know what to do.”

the shadow turns
and it turns so much that
it is now in the light
and has a face after all.

“i don’t understand,” the girl says
“are you human or are you not?”
“i don’t know,” says the shadow.
“are you dreaming or are you not?”

take me away
to green forests
where the song
of the lonely
is the national anthem
and when the birds
sing it
it is suddenly recognized
as the song
of the loved

it’s funny how they said
you need someone to complete you
and i spent so much time
looking for the light in another
and neglecting my own
not even realizing
that darkness only attracts more darkness
and hatred only begets more hate
and they said listen up,
you’re a douhghnut
you’ve got this massive hole inside you
and okay, maybe not a doughnut because
it wouldn’t be a doughnut without a hole
but maybe a cream puff or a pie crust
or something that needs filling
so i went everywhere
looking for a special kind of light to fill me
forgetting that i had my own
and it is like the color purple
looking for more of itself
and not realizing that
you could not be more purple
even if you tried
and what could someone just as full
of the same darkness and light ever give you
that you could not give yourself?
you are not an opposite
your existence does not depend on one needing the other
darkness needs light
and lightness needs dark
but you contain both, and everything and nothing
and there isn’t a single thing in this universe
that could make you whole
other than you coming back home to yourself

when it rains
i go with the rain
i go to the deep places
of the earth
where the light is missing
where the green is
so green
it’s almost black
and the forest is
its own kind of
personal forgetting

when it rains
i go with the rain
until i am washed
of everything
but rain

after a while
trying no longer feels
like the new black
so you fade off
into a distance whose color
you won’t recognize
until you get there
and along the way
you play a guessing game
where you place the cool side
of blue rain
yellow sun
and red poppies
to the flat of your palm
and then you press that
to your heart
and you wait until
something
anything
lights up inside you
like christmas lights

how well
do you know me
when i take down
my heaviest book
from the highest shelf
and bring it down low
to where the ashes
and the diamonds
are building a bridge
from me to you
and how willing are you
to walk this burnt path
to know me better
than you’ve ever known yourself?

lean down into the garden
lean down with your eyes, hair and breath
lean out and gather
the every which way of life
until you’ve scooped up
every flower bud of this world
and gather it into your arms
into one life
and then lean back
through the window
slink back into the shade
of yourself,
find the sun
and start planting

love walks in
sits down at the kitchen table
and vomits up its breakfast

love goes outside
lights a cigarette
and waits for the last star to die

if you want to slip me
a little something special
for the long ride home
go ahead

whether it’s love
or hate
is entirely up to you

we took our boat out
onto the river of time
and it slipped by us
in silver and gold
in sunlight and cloud
and once we reached the opposite shore
we looked back and realized
that no time had passed at all

nobody said
you have to be happy
and nobody told you
to take off your dark
in favor of
somebody else’s light

once upon a time
a girl was built inside a factory
situated on the edge of a cliff
overlooking the sea
she was made from the finest materials
by a man who cared very much
but knew almost nothing about being a little girl
so he made her ears too big
her face a bit too funny
and her body more like a boy’s than a girl’s should be
but he built her with infinite worlds
fastened them to her insides so that she would always have
a galaxy full of spinning globes
to run away to and play in
and he promised her that
whenever she found herself lost in this world
that she had instant access
to a funhouse
a hall of mirrors
a merry-go-round that never stops spinning
the way infinite worlds spin inside
infinite worlds
like a self-fulfilling prophecy
where spring blossoms inside of spring
and the horses never stop running

at 2 am
i am more myself
than anything:
a butterfly
with kaleidoscope wings
and a tiara
made of teeth and bones
held together with honey,
crowning me
the queen of myself
and all the lands
i had to cross
to get here.

here is the land and the river and the sky
and the bird that grows with the moon.
here is the night and the day and the fall in between
that catches every sunset in its arms.
here are the stars and the comets and the black holes,
the sinking ships and swirling winds and falling leaves of gold.
here is your beauty up high on the mountains
and the grace brought down by the dove.
here is the reckless abandon that shivers in the snow
and the warmth of summer that will bring it all home.

the sound of thunder
is the earth screaming
i love you! i love you!
and if you’d just listen
the earth wouldn’t have
to shout so loud

if a bird
lands on your shoulder
that means there’s
a song to sing

and if a bird
falls dead at your feet
that means there’s
nowhere to run

and if a bird
flies away
that means you did
the best you could

and if a bird
stays for the winter
that means you’ve
finally found within you
that invincible summer

you know the one

this loneliness is like
a heavy bag of bones
and i keep forgetting that
these aren’t even my bones
i have all my bones
i have never been boneless
but i think i’m boneless
so i walk around
carrying this heavy bag of bones
wondering whose bones are these?
and which of these bones are mine?

i am not looking
for someone to save me
but i am looking to be saved
by the grace they talk about
in books and up on the hill
i have tried to find my own light
but it is eluding me
and i cannot tell
if i am a fool for even trying
or if it’s just that the darkness is so convincing
that it has fooled everyone else
into not even bothering

i know about the little things
that live upon the hill
the flowers and the birdlings
and the ghosts that stand so still
i know about the stories
that you whisper in your sleep
i hear your secrets long before
the dawn begins to creep
i know that you are haunted
like a river running mad
i know about the sickly things
that make the good things bad
i know your river isn’t running smoothly,
it’s drying up inside
but i also know that i don’t care,
and still want you by my side

finish that sentence
before you start something new.
and that cup
of tea too—
it’s getting cold
and the wanderers
are growing restless.
they are begging
for something new.
finish
so that we may begin again.

I may not be your
cup of tea but somebody
poured me, didn't they?

i’m going into the forest today
i’m bored with all this light
i want to know the shadows
that make the rest of me bright

the call of the wild
is the call of the heart;
there is no difference—
both are calling you home

She said, I’ll look for Wonderland
I’ll find it in the snow
I’ll find it in the setting sun,
I’ll find it in a rose
She travelled every which and way
up every staircase to
the promise of a land so vast
full of hearts and tales so true,
but the farther that she wandered
the more she realized
that Wonderland is not a place
but a certain state of mind.

So she sat under her Bodhi tree
and waited for the leaves to fall.
She waited for the silence
and she waited for the dawn;
she waited for the rain to come,
so wet and wild and blue
to cleanse her of the pain she had
mistaken for the truth.

And time grew thinner than a ribbon
and the branches grew so bare
and she found that as her burdens lifted,
so did all her cares.
And when the spring-time came again
as the fates guaranteed it would
she found the birds still singing songs
of everything that’s good.

And no longer were the branches bare,
no longer was there pain—
but now just brilliant green leaves of light
waltzing in the rain.

And she found a new seed sprouting—
one of madness and of love,
and as spring paved the way for summer
she heard the golden secret buzz.
It was a child—no, it was a lamb,
or maybe the Mad Hatter she heard say, that
“Madness is the same as love,
and both just want to play.”

may the dark
break me apart
so that the light
will build me back up
from the sunlit soil
of the earth
heart throbbing like new

you get so tired
that the only place
left to go
is a tunnel inside yourself
and then sleep
til you are whole

wait here,
the future
doesn’t want you.
be here,
the past no longer
needs you.
stay here,
the present
already loves you.

the bottom
of the river
is only
the beginning
and there is
nothing wrong
with drowning

follow
that little red car
it’s going on an adventure
and i want to know where it ends up
and with who
and if there’s more darkness than light
or if it’s all been
one big misunderstanding