I am sand - drifting formlessly, settling briefly;
dusting edges traced clean by housekeeping’s judicious forefinger.

I am sand - black with iron and ****** wrath;
shattering glassily against a wine-stained ceiling.

I am sand - my trespasses turned to pearl;
rippled and flurrying, wedged between sandal-clad toes.

I am sand - porous with desire yet disarmed by possibility;
a fortress on the brink of invasion by the sea.

I am sand - recalled to the desert, claggy with melancholy;
a loping caravan of travail, westward bound.

I am sand - measureless and infinitely uncontainable;
sifting from hour to hour...and life to life.

yesterday, the universe seemed as if it was a mirage; I saw planets beyond planets, a moon beyond moons; oh the minutes were soft and golden; they melted to liquid, into a million, into manifold, into one...

~perhaps this was what nobody told me: perhaps I am
more than the mass of resentment and regret that I had so greatly condemned, then became...~

and as I fell asleep; folded and cradled in the warm arms of the universe, I understood, I truly understood...

~that it was forgiveness that made everything beautiful once more...~

My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.

Tonight the caustic wind, love,
Gossips late and soon,
And I wear the wry-faced pucker of
The sour lemon moon.

While like an early summer plum,
Puny, green, and ****,
Droops upon its wizened stem
My lean, unripened heart.