You, yes, you are beautiful
God's creation, a work of art
look at your hands,
feel the radiant energy
expressed through them,
lightly caress your face,
allow sensations to return
let light pour through you again
receive, open the pathways
for you are entirely worthy
of incredible love because
you exist and are part
of this universe.  

Breathe in positive vibrations,
absorb all the roseate sunlight,
let its warmth filter through your skin,
feel each strand of hair soaking in love,
bathe your eyes in winter's
pearlescent moon-
you are reborn at dawn.

Wrap your spirit
in the understanding
that you are valuable,
and you possess such gifts
that will support and strengthen
others in their quests.

You, yes, you
have immense power,
cherish and harness its beauty
for greatness, take time to care
for yourself -especially right now-
the world needs spirits such as yours -
spread your warm heart
as a light house upon dark and troubled seas--
call restless souls to your harbors,
relish in the world's goodness,
enchant your life by giving others
peaceful energy and acceptance
for positivity will decimate pain,
fear, and insecurity -
and you are formed of
L O V E.

~
Sleep, sweet darling
Sleep

Remember drowsy
blue waters
heal and swoon
the ennui haze

In softly pillowed oblivion
where even your
little toes and feet
touch bottom

Beloved dreamer
in tempera obscurity
there will be no memory
of the procession
ferrying our kipped-down family

They will dance
widdershins around us
with fluttered eyelids
and reclining hearts

But whether an
allegory of the cave or
an analogy of the sun toward
some dividing line between
~either way~

Sleep, sweet darling
Sleep
~

Don't let anyone
with bad eyebrows give you life
advice - it ends badly.

I don't mind seeing my ex with
someone else - I usually donate
unused things to the less fortunate.

I wonder how many
calories I burn jumping
to wrong conclusions.

Into you

learning to be
a divided
submersible

once so perimetric
on the fringe
of all that grows within

we thus fall
and settle
much like Sarajevo Roses

colorfully resting
in the lasting drawn out
places we made perish

now
here
am I

into you

the ******
connective
entirely dependent

upon
the quotient
of two integers

the way we love
is a method
of mixed results

gloves-off, she
leans on her back foot
moves fast and hides tired eyes
behind a battle-blue arm  

from a punch-bloodied mouth
she spills and spits words out on canvas
makes way for cool air- tries to
pacify lungs before they explode, calm
a heart that longs to rebel

she needs to feel loved, but can
be understood only by tracing braille-like-trauma
on her Vaseline skin-
and if she’s not out for the count
she doesn't keep still