A beautiful quiet night,
the moon was shining bright,
stars twinkling all around
in a cloudless sky.

Moonlight fell upon your face,
it too began to shine—
like the brightest of stars.

I stared at your moonlit face all night,
from afar,
wishing someday you might be mine.

Though I know all too well
your heart longs for another,
I will not stand in your way of love.

Yet I will keep on loving you,
for my heart
will always belong to you.

The woman with the cat face made a wish
And all the sparrows turned to fish.

The sky produced them at her command
Stacked like kippers upon her hand.

The woman with the cat tail switched it once
And paving stones turned to hot cross buns.

The woman with the cat tail switched it twice
And made Catholic bishops of five field mice.

The woman with the cat heart had a beau
Set him on a gallows and swung him low.

The woman with the cat heart clapped her hands
And made his coffin out of watering cans.

the night whispers the black water fall of ashes
that bloom into the sparrows of sorrow...


the sorrow sparrows are back again
sitting in the tangled woods of twisted trees.

Van Gogh heard their voices
bouncing off love's walls.

the sorrow sparrows are leaning into me.
my sad eyes, dream of you brother.

I lean into the soft lit room
searching for love's quiet hours,
with sunlight flickering through willow trees.

"don't cry, darlin," my wife whispers.

were we looking
for the feminine
of our soft hands
no questioning
the nature of daylight
is wonder, we feel it
in our touch
we know the ancient art of
cartography: love memory
death quivers deltas of tears
we taste the starvation of breath
the magnitude of gratitude

we kept the drum of hearts
alight to catch the waves of time
Anna's drum summoned Shiva,
the master of shiver
the god of blood
carrying sage scent in our hair
forgotten paths in our shapes
pink lotus flowers in our wombs
bold desires in our feet
tales of flames in each scar

we recognise each other
greet with a soul reverence
across time across space
we forgive ouselves
our betrayals violations
of a feminine truth
we wait for the men we love
we set ourselves free
from the spinning wheel of pain

we receive
we keep
what is alive
what is dead
still not born
in refused bodies:
the possibility of
kindness

we are women
we are dancers
we sing fiercely,
gently from the
chest of the moon

How can we learn to be together without losing ourselves?
How can we avoid burning up in the heat of assurances
And fading away in the cold of a rainy autumn?
How can we keep our feelings from freezing like glassy ice,
Finding ourselves eagerly waiting for the spring thaw?

We build ourselves piece by piece,
Gathering dried leaves.
No longer you, no longer me,
No longer even us —
Only these branches that want so much
To come alive in late spring,

Longing for the soft kisses of warm wind,
Without violent storms that leave behind
Torn promises of a peaceful future
And thunderous, harsh words that burn into ash
Shaping a bleeding groove from within.

There will be no sweet stability,
Only these pieces of lightly blue,
When, after a long, lonely night
We open our arms shyly, thinking yes —
Even if only for a minute,
Endlessly repeated.