she was made of glass
and dandelions
pressed flowers
and sunlight
hair
soft as gossamer
and eyes
the morning dew
her mind
full of daydreams
wishes
hopes
and love
as she danced with air
stepping barefoot
through her solitude
wishing her bones
were not so fragile
and that her heart
would not beat
breaking spun sugar ribs
not made for this world
never to belong
her tissue skin tore
with each tide
every storm
ached her
inside out
but she remains
as her soul
was born of gold
her spirit
mithril
forged
in lakes of fire
so she remains
to love
where she does not belong

Morning has broken
but she has not
it had been a long night
sinister fraught
the stars were cut
in lacerations of lace
          stains of tears
                      mark trails
                   on her face
mascara in circles
mocking panda eyes
multiple moments
of almost self-demise
wrists bound to
          sadness, heart
trussed to trust
pain from crumbling
illusions, plus
that constant,
          searing lust
Now, on the floor,
lying face down
in what seemed
              like blood,
she starts to
                 move around,
as realization pours over
in a thick, viscous flood:
She can move her arms;
for they were not
                really bound
That gag in her mouth?
it has dissolved into sound
The sound of her voice
as she gets up
        from the floor
opens the window
bringing light
            to the fore
guttural noises
escape deep
                 from her throat
and before she
knows it, the
room starts to float
furniture circling
as the energy takes
        and she lets in the air
             fresh as new fate
her cuts balmed over
         winds whipping up her hair
marks from taut ropes
smoothing over to bare
and the light bursts in
          in a blast, in a whoosh
like bursts of starlight
cutting in with a push
they seep into shadows
pulsing over the dark
the howling rescinds
          in an explosion of sparks
blocks of pain that held
her chained
are knocked over
and the lightstorm
                keeps coming
her inner percussion
just doesn't stop drumming
      And as she flies through that window
and unhinges the door
            from its frame
freedom
            is now hers
            forever to claim

Tight roping the catwalk of life's hopes and dreams

I  tiptoe through trying to avoid hurting myself upon

Jagged pieces of broken glass

Obstacles to my aims and desires

Atop the saffron walls of my blue sky thinking.

From here I could allow myself to fall into blackness

containing all possibilities

Or stay safe aloft and on high

Continuing to follow my narrow path

My feet tire of this peregrine journey

And yearn to search for colours new

To allow myself to pass through deepest black

Through to purest white

And enter the rainbow

Where in life's spectrum

All souls glow within its flow.

beauty indeed,
a fair maiden proudly giving me her bounty
a mountain far off upon a golden horizon
the breath of earth misty upon the calm sea
a calm word from a strong man to a hurt child
a stranger helping an old woman across the street
homeless vagabonds hugging and sharing one piece
of bread in the snow
a four legged friend faithfully guarding
his human child awaiting the bus
two birds feeding worms to their young
and a lion nurse an orphan gazelle, god yes,
I have seen beauty indeed. And heard her name in nature's churches,
in temples of the streets, in heavens on earth.

Perhaps on an idle afternoon
when sadness lies heavy on chest
your eyes shimmering like crystal moon
upon my poems would come to rest.

Words of love and touching her shore
yearnings sharp as edge of knife
wrote my mind of twenty four
gathering all from a half seen life.

You flip the pages as years roll down
reach to where past high tides sailed
the ink flows soft as calm of dawn
in peace of void when heights are scaled.

You close the book breathing a sigh
your eyes are wet of misty dew
by then fallen twilight asks you why
the poet on the cover looks like you.

Make my life a hollow reed
That will bend now in stormy breeze
For in numbers I find my strength
Beneath the willow tree

Make my life like the rock
Piled high upon , top to top
A stonewall that runs for miles
Around my lands it stands

Make my life short and sweet
Give me peace not dire defeat
Give me love and woman's sigh
Amidst the clovered fields

Make my life a Godly song
One that knows right from wrong
With wisdon as old as stars
I'll dance inside the fire

Make my life to unfold
I am tired , my shoes have holes
My dreams are seeds cast to the wind
And just the husk remains

Make my life now come to end
It's my time to propend
I'll walk among the ghost's remains
And willingly I quote

Hollow reeds will bend not break
Holow reeds will not forsake
Of hollow reeds my death bed make
And lie amongst the stars

the palms keep vigil over the tired countryside. orange trees bear clusters of golden sun ripened in the red noon. cypress clean clouds from the azure where insects glimmer, sparks born of incandescent sunlight. i listen to the rhythm of silence scented by fabulous blossoms. and my spirit is drawn towards these heavy desires that haunt the coolness of shade.

The ghosts of old raindrops
mock and scold.
Their scorn writ large
on these dusty roads and in these dusty throats.
To tote the barge but not lift the bail
ain't no kind of protest.
Spit in the well and
hope the master draws up that bucket-full.
Wishes.
Still, the giver of life
serpentines through this valley
like the Euphrates did
in that one book, but
it does not matter
since the scythe swings
in such wide circles
this time of year.
We can bring in sheaves until dusk
then fish for men in the morning but
our souls are still corrupted.
Our hearts are rotten like old pears.
I'm so thirsty.