I told the man
from the cremation society
yes, you can use the front door
Miss Mary was a lady
and a lady does not
slink out the back
as if dying were
something of shame

I heard my mojo calling
in the sound of a million crickets,
singing their song in splendid harmony.
Under the smiling moon,
I saw shadows amongst the conifers,
in a place we once called home.

And now all I have
is your handmade dreamcatcher,
a bandana with your fragrance
imbedded in the paisley
& memories of you on me.

My sweet Helen,
this is heaven-
where stars dance
and angels sing:
"Its coming,coming"
your face
in happy contortion,
is a study in contrast of,
Nirvana and transience-
moment after moment.
I ride the white dragon,
diving down through clouds
so sudden!
Helen's heaven
one is the other
for the time being.
Thundering sweet silence
then-
same affirmation again,
a ladder however long
would never reach heaven,
my sweet Helen.

Dark floats out into the silence
Crashing on the banks of Prometheus's wings
Opening a velvet-silk curtain.
To a fabric of shadowed stars
Cloudy fingers sew it clean
While invisible hands stitch pearls back in.
A ghost flits on the hallway stair
Reaching for the last shafts of sun
Tumbling off a silent dream
Blind as black with a lullaby hum
Filling the gaps in an empty line
Somewhere between dusk and dawn.

Once upon a time, Everything was in a bottle. All the little universes were fizzing little bubbles, and the paths between them were made of clear clutter. There was a cork on the bottle, sealed and marked with an old sort of stamp, the kind that drips wax all over the glass and reminds old seafarers of rolled up scrolls and dreams thrown into the waves.

And once upon a time, someone melted down the wax, eased out the cork, and took a sip. All the stars burned spicy as cumin and the black holes left a sour sort of taste behind. It wasn’t a very orderly sort of soda. It wasn’t a very perfect one either. But it was the most delicious thing in- well, not in the universe. That’s what it was made of.

Once upon a time, Everything was in a bottle. Then, it wasn’t.

I'm told that I should dream so brightly

Light bound blades and angel swords

Care not to close my eye too tightly 

So long as it's right side of war.



But I can't sleep with lights so singing

Torture methods loved by good

When bright roots down my words mid-winging

My walking tiptoes turn to wood.



Let me go where winter follows

Play with wisp-lights in the dark

Friends with larks and darker swallows

Bending trees to leave my mark.



A candle lit midsummer night

Burns stronger come the Yuletide snow

Mirrors lie more than lover's sight

March's Ides won't blind me so.



So let me taint my wings with ashes

Chip my sword with ****** smiles

Wear my words in tattered sashes

Beat a path towards every mile



You color with a paper paste

Richer blends don't fit your mold

Now isn't that just such a waste?

You've lost your palette to the cold.

Declaring that you’re in a relationship will change some things.
(So maybe I'm putting it mildly)

What it doesn’t mean is that everything will suddenly be perfect.

It takes more than labeling a relationship to hold conversations just by looking into each other’s eyes,
To laugh together while having ***,
To let them convince you that when they tell you you’re beautiful they aren’t disregarding your flaws or glorifying them, but instead loving them because they’re part of you,
And that you’re the loveliest being in the universe,
No matter how many freckles they have to kiss to prove it to you.

It doesn’t mean that you’ll suddenly be able to touch your heart to theirs by giving them a goodnight kiss,
Or that they’ll slow dance to Here Comes the Sun at midnight in the middle of January,
Just because they know it makes you feel so complete inside that you’ll never, ever, want to stop kissing them,
And that you’ll be crying at the same time,
As you smile when you trip over the arm of the sofa and land with them on top of you, holding them harder than ever.

What it does mean is that what you have is mutual.

It means that you’re willing to learn how to lace your fingers together, not caring who sees how awkward it is when you can’t get them to fit quite right,
That you’ll let friendly hugs turn into blushing kisses on the cheek,
Tickle fights into a silence that fits like a missing puzzle piece around you,
As you bump noses and grin for the forty-fifth time,
At two in the morning because neither of you can say goodnight without seeing the smile on the other’s face and blushing again.

It means that person, the person you just let take your label,
The one that that lets everyone know you’re their’s because you want to be,
Is willing to try to get there.
To get there with you.

It means,
That this is a start.

Don’t let go.

Stride into the dark blue night;
sprint among the fallen and smite,
the peeling forest and withered wood,
the battling weather--they withstood.
Break the oak of the woodland’s door,
make what once was be no more,
the falling timber and groaning corpse,
watch as the warm, damp, wood warps.
Be the fire that falls from beyond,
strip the moss the trees have donned.
fly across the earthy lake,
drowning in the endless wake.

do not look for me
I have run into a forest
I will not return
the air is better here
I can see
it is wonderful.
the trees are absolutely lovely
they talk to me about birds and grape vines
no torrent of energy or mind.
there are flowers in my feet
the song is not of the birds, but of the earth
don't call for me
this is my home.

you smell like bonfires and salty sand
I want to run with you
I feel your energy
the sky is in your eyes; your hair
stars
we can be free together