Lamenting ivory capped peaks,
Greet the proud thick clouds of white,
As a friendly kiss of the lips,
Soon divided by the full-filling wind’s purpose,
To move nature’s place…
Constant.

Spread out arms of ancient soil,
Covered by spring’s sigh of life,
Layer beneath layer…
Memories of old are kept…
Of the hands which had thrown and plucked,
Each seed and grain.

Cloud and peak,
Nature’s lover’s kiss,
Wind and crop,
Nature lover’s love.

Like to the sun-tanned rocks was his skin;
Gold with a tiny shade of gray.
Like to the curling moss clinging to the trunks of oaks
Was his wise beard.
Here we see a spirit of the river.
This Free Spirit, as old and wise as the boulders
That shape curves in the waters,
And yet as young and fresh as the newborn dragonflies
That fly through the air and between trees.
Here we see a spirit,
One whose lips were shaped in a constant smile,
One whose lungs evoked constant laughter,
One who never ceased to love those around him,
Nor cease to love himself.
Here is a Free Spirit,
Now in the next world,
Playing paddle ball on the beach.
Here is a Free Spirit,
At peace and smiling.

*This poem is dedicated to my dear friend Daniel Free Spirit, who passed away last week. Though the river will never be the same without his playful self there, his spirit is in the water, the rocks, the sand, and the trees. I will always greet his spirit with a kiss to the wind. Rest in peace my friend.

In a field of green and gold,
Mother and daughter arm in arm,
Happiness and love glistening eyes,
Purple flower held against sun touched skin,
Smiles ready for the camera’s focus.

Daughter walking calmly,
In a field of green and gold,
Then reeled back by her mother’s arms,
Both bursting into high pitched laughter,
Into an embrace meant for the camera’s shot,
So for future memories are made.

The diaphragm of the camera,
Adjusting passing light through the lens,
Each wave divided in time,
Reflecting perfection.

Tree’s ravaged roots
By axes a thousand
Spilling the blood of forest barks and mosses
The trunk’s weeping screams
Enough to deafen the nearest fowl

Each branch sheds tears
Of liquefied organs and veins
That once hitting the ground
Flow in rushing meanders
Enough to drown soil housed insects

Every leaf that was born
Green and luscious under the sun’s beams
Now recoil and shiver
Into a rusted deathly brown
All the breath that once recycled
Back through its green body
Chased into a withered chasm

One by one
The axe takes a thousand lives in one
One by one
The world that nurtured humanity
Decays by humanity’s hands
One by one
The ruin of all
Will occur
By the axe
Of humanity

Yesterday morning I awoke like a sparkle.
I rose from my floor mattress and danced and sang!
My clumsy fingers rummaged through the piles of clothing
Making decision a difficult annoyance.
Then finally, dressed simply and breathing heavily,
A knock sounded on my door.
There he was!
A knight so handsome and youthful it made my heart flutter.

So, my heart aflutter and my eyes a sparkle, I took steps
Side by side this gallant knight,
Off to make whatever would be made of that most beautiful day.

~~~~~~~~

The knight and I walked under the trees and
Along the shallow stream.
Walked and talked of many things.
That was the simplest afternoon I can conjure in my mind,
And it was absolutely perfect!

By the end of that afternoon we had already made
A bucket list of adventures for the coming days.
And now,
As I sit on my floor mattress typing away my heart-flutters,
I know I look forward to nothing more than adventuring and discovering
With this handsome youthful gallant knight.

On piano bench ivory sit I
Carved stone keys beneath my fingers
Fall and die
Savory sounds to my ears rise and fall
With them seep speechless calls
Accompanied by peppered cries
Inside me touched desires sigh

In slow motion fall
My finger-tips connect
With carved stone keys
Yawning out low pitched
High screeched
Sounds
In contrast
My thoughts shallow and lone

I drown deep up
Shallow down
In the
Percussions of piano keys
Each of which tease
The buzzing bees
In these empty seas

Drown deep up
Shallow down

Shallow down
Drown deep up

Wake up
Wake up

The gush of water over rounded rocks
Elevate to echoes,
Echoes that echo in the space between
Tree and stone.
The sun rays are even and smooth
Wherever you turn.
Go round and round in a full circle,
It’s all even,
Except just before you return to where you started,
In that one split second and space of air.
The evened light from the sun
Will be molded differently here,
It will form tall slender shadows
That fall over the giant rocks.
In the shadows you can see
Two lovers, both ****,
Both having reached complete happiness.
Both their arms are around one another,
Holding the other’s shoulders and back like a conch.
The tops of their heads are crowned with
Fern circlets,
The green of which makes their skin look pale
And the hair on their head look light.
In this embrace, within the echoes between tree and stone,
These two lovers hold their ceremony,
One that belongs solely to them,
A secret from the world outside nature.
The sun rays bind them
And the echoes between tree and stone set them free.
Here they hold their ceremony,
With the fern crowns on their heads
And love within their beating hearts.

Mirrored halls
Each side I turn
I look back at myself

Marble floors
Each step I take
My feet send echoes through the stone

Cold air
Each breath I breathe
Throat moister transforms transparent

This temple of withdrawal
Harbors angels and demons
Angels and demons
Each one
Given space to ponder

Evergreen ponds of mint,
Circulating everchanging scents of space.

The busy-bustling bees of the scorching sun,
Their ebony and mustard bodies catching the eye,
The sweet-seeping smell of fresh honey harvest.

Tangible scent of spring touched grass and moss,
Carried on the arms of wise wind,
To encrust the mind and body's senses.

Continuous dance of trickling-trickles,
Born from that same stream,
Of August warmed water,
Clear as your gray eye's shadow.

Do you remember...
That night of an August full moon?
When we bathed in that same stream,
Our naked bodies silver under the moon's touch.
That August moon,
We shared our dreams and desires,
My fingerips wrote poetry on your skin,
Your lips spun silk against my cheeks.

That night,
So long ago,
Now feels like only yesterday...

Can you still remember that night?
My fingertips?
Your lips?

Though the deep ocean is your new home,
The jelly and dolphins your new companions,
The growing coral your new body,
Can you still remember?

I believe you can,
I hope you can,
But just incase,
The undulate movement of the ocean,
Has washed away your memory...
This flower is for you!
It is a wild scotchbroom,
Mustard yellow, like the bees of the scorching sun.
It is my wish that the ripples of the flower,
Once touching the water's surface,
Will reach your ears,
And echo the memory to you.

That night of the August full moon,
When we bathed in that same stream,
Our naked bodies silver under the moon's touch...

Sand dust paper memory,
Magnet promises that loose
Their stickiness.
Eyes so deep and empty
Like lonely water wells.
This is the man that holds
An umbrella over his head,
Even if it's not raining,
And just stands and stares
Out over the horizon sea.

A small pond sits quiet in a meadow,
Circling it are three majestic willows.
The long green branches reach down
And the leaves brush the water’s surface,
Creating tiny ripples that grow and spread.
It is quiet here, in this meadow.
The breeze that lifts the
Willow branches is calm,
And the animals that occupy
The little corners are at peace.
Here, in this quiet meadow,
Stand three majestic willows,
Each one casting a reflection in the water.

*Another poem of three that I wrote for my friend's granddaughters

My bare feet take light steps,
Through the wet grasses,
Transfiguring their high-stretched stems,
To the paragon August moon.

The breeze is warm
Against my outstretched arms.

The dew is chill,
Against my feet souls.

Drip,
Drip,
Drip…

The patient, immutable
Tune of night,
Springing from the hanging leaves,
Of surrounding dogwood.

Each leaf’s body tip,
Acting as a gateway,
For newborn water-molecules,
Taking off in a fall,
A fall through expanse of night,
Soon to be swallowed by soil.

I sit now,
My thin legs crossed,
My arms held-high
In the night sky.

Goose-bumps infuse themselves,
Upon my paper skin.

Fingers stretched far out,
Moonlight rays seeping
Through my life lines.

Closing my eyes now,
Retreating into a space of meditative mind,
I hear the doleful song of fowl,
Taking lone flight through the night air.
I feel the shy colors of dawn,
Escalating through the heavens.

August moon departs.

August sun emerges.

Here I sit,
Thin legs crossed,
Arms unmoved from their upward stretch,
My eyes still closed,
My chest,
Rising and falling steadily.

Each breathe slows,
Until the moon is finally out of eyes reach,
My beating heart comes to a slow stop,
My lips smile to the world.

Drip,
Drip,
Drip,
Drip…

The apple murex moon of this
Post-winter night, sewn with unseen stars,
Shines thin and parted beams
Between the cracks torn in the clouds
That slash through the skies like
Rice paper.
The night breezes uproot the
Vast wheat fields into a swaying
Back and sideways ballet.
Knees are bent into pliés
And stomach muscles are
Stretched in high reaching arcs.

The sun-dried wheat fields,
Ready for break-back harvest,
Bend in pliés and
Twirl in sideways spirals.
As straight and determined as a
Willow arrow,
A fire-bellied sparrow
Is lost under the tyrant waves
Of wheat and wind,
Under the slicing orchestra of
Grass-cut air.
She searches for a way out.
She does not realize that the
Sky that was once below is now above.
Both her black drowned eyes see nothing
But the violent movements of coffee colored shards.
Where is the familiar violet glow of the
Apple murex moon?
Where are the thousands of
Seen and unseen stars,
And the rice paper clouds?

The wheat and wind
Seem to curl inward
And trap her,
Away from the world she knew.
Just as her tiny sparrow heart
Began to curl inward into itself,
The air parted the wheat fields,
Freeing her.  

The delicate lungs that
Give the sparrow breath and song
Take in the refreshing air.
She stretches her fire-feathered wings
High and wide
And under the violet light,
The she sparrow
Flies upward
To kiss the apple murex moon.

The rain in the air falls like strained whispers.
The pebbled ground under my feet tingles from each single contact made
With every cloud’s tear-release.
The cold that chokes the outer world
Pushes us closer together,
As if we are two caterpillars,
Whom for the sake of warmth join
In one singular silk-thread cocoon.
I can feel a thousand invisible hands
Against my back, nudging me closer.
Your hands are holding my face;
They are so soft and sure,
These must be the hands of an angel.
Your angel’s palm on my skin
Spreads a blush over my face,
A blush that I alone feel
And the night’s dark alone sees.
Or can you feel the heat?
Space and seconds materialize away…away…
Now both our mouths taste one another's saliva.
Moister takes over the dryness that was, in that space before.
Between your angel’s palms,
Between your lips,
Between the cold that envelopes this cocoon of perfection,
I am a diamond tear that in the space of something never known,
Has no wish, no thought or desire.
I am a diamond tear,
Between your angel’s palms and lips.

High-pitched sky songs
Pluck storms from their deepest
Heart of hearts
The thunders slap unto the cheeks
Of hill crests
Echo screams

The veins of mountains tremble
Final shivers shatter openings
Through the curved rock hips
Gushing waters that cry for release

Storm tongues strike root-deep
Oaks
And from ablaze flames
Release their lustful moans

Drowning tons of moist earth
Collapse over cliff walls and
In crashing descent bury some
Frightened fractals of life

The whole atmosphere is an orchestra
Of echoing screams and vibrational screeches
Releasing onto the tactual earth changes
That will remain
And form anew

Perpetual youth and old wisdom thrive
As the pure first breath
Of a child just born

Nature
An intricate web of
Perpetual youth and old wisdom

Mistakes, one then another,
And again and again.
Each and all textured the same,
And for so long
Unable to be tame.
This encore of pain,
Salt on the open wounds,
All due to that everlasting, consuming fear
Of living the truth.
This encore of mistakes,
Crawling,
Gnawing.

My hands I keep in my pockets
My eyes I keep steady focus with
The other shadows walking the concrete
Sidewalk
The shadows that first walked as I did
Now part as to give me way
Their shadow eyes watch me
I know this is an illusion of my mind
It plays tricks with me
Making me feel wrong
When I am right
Shutting out the world
Gives you pain and freedom
Illusion and clarity
What do I walk away from?
You may ask
Oh, many a thing
I would say
Many a thing I feel
No need to recollect
Shutting down the mind
Now that’s the real challenge
My hands I keep in my pockets
My eyes I keep in steady focus with
The empty path before me
Bordered by staring shadows

The ocean between our bodies
Is deep enough for crystalline echoes,
Though hollow as a sea-thinned lace murex.
Your eyes speak it,
Mine feel the same.
I will happily swim this ocean for you.

Step with me, my friend
Behind the beating fast fall of water unending.
Here we are now,
Two souls in the echoing space
Between solid rock and falling curtain of water.
Hush now...
Do you feel the pulse
Of the Earth's flowing veins,
Coagulating with your own?
Listen....
Do you hear the murmur
Of forgotten voices
Kept in memory of stone walls
Surrounding us here?
They sing to you,
To me,
To whomever has the ears to listen,
Of moss and wheat meadows
The green blades dripping blood,
Spicy and cruel crimson in the sun.
Songs of deep sorrows unmendable,
Leaving the beating heart
Cold and transparent.
Songs of love,
Love felt to consume the mind,
Uniting lovers
A million in number,
Sharing passions unspoke of.
Listen.....
Here we are now,
Two souls in the echoing space
Between solid rock and falling curtain of water,
Listen......

Autumn is here
A season with two faces
One blows a farewell kiss
To her late friend August
The other adjusts his spectacles
And looks for the surefooted
Arrival of the cold months

Orange and gold falls from the trees
These petals and leaves
Resemble to true likeness the pollen
Coated bees that buzz and
Construct the giant honey combs
That little bears love so much

Trunks and branches of trees
Sigh away the dry whisper
From Summer’s heat and
Thieve away any trace of water
That within their thoughts
Reach they may sense
From this thieving of
Liquid pure
Comes verdant mosses
Those in jest proclaim sole dominion
Over the apple’s green

The deer venture through the
Rains of petals and leaves
Sniffing with their muzzles the
Tiny mushrooms
That escaped the underground when rain
First touched soil surface

Squirrels chase each other around
And up the trunks of soaring oaks
And with their teeth
Collect nuts for when desire
To go search is not a question

Orange and gold
Falls from the trees
What falling wonders are these?

Leave me here,
By and by the misty oaks,
Those boast and cower through seasons.

Leave me here,
By and by the sun-touched,
Pebbled paths that led many pairs of feet.
For here my eyes do spy those
Ivory petaled bells of flowers.

Leave me here,
By and by,
Where I will pick these flowers,
And furnish my day with scented simplicity.

The air is stayed
By the hum of voices
They whisper through the divides
Between each leaf and branch
As smooth and unnoticeable
As the green beetles slow crawl and watchful eye

Voices trickle down the transparent
Curving body of the forest’s streams
Every caress the waters
Give to the rocks
Whose slippery surfaces are gowned
With moss so green
Chew more and more away
The cold stone

The vibration of every tone
Shakes the dome topped dew
Droplets from the blades of grass
That in the night’s closed walls
Grow still
With no wind to blow
No sun light to warm them

Nature thrives through these voices
As these voices thrive through nature
Nature keeps counsel with all life
And dances arm in arm with death

Life
Death
Nature
They resemble tapestries
That hung on the walls
Of medieval halls
Tapestries of three intertwining serpents
Each devouring the other
Forming a cycle
Of continuous rebirth

The beetle chews the leaf
The bird swallows the beetle
The fox eats the bird

The leaf falls from the branch
The stream carries it down its rapids
The fish nip at it thinking it is an insect
And the bird catches the fish

Particles are born
Angelical masks are worn
Tragic ends in lives are torn
And everything is reborn

Black eyelids of the night,
Sing their inward sleepy song,
To the ocean of silence far below,
Whose wavelets of dreams are a medicine to the past days wounds.

Nights brow is doted with dew,
Dew whose origin,
Same to that of crystal caves bright blue and purple lights,
Is a perfect reflection of the Earth's simplicity.

That day at the river was the most beautiful.
There was a balance in the air that day;
everything was perfect.
We both smiled and laughed.
We fed each other forkfuls of lemon cheesecake.
We embraced and kissed.

Everything was vibrant that day and seemed to be glowing.
The water.
The rocks.
The trees and bushes.
The sky.
The few white clouds.

That day will always remain in my memory
As the most beautiful birthday I have ever had.

The thumb and ******* of my left hand pinched the neck of a sandglass. The sand leaving the top bulb was almost translucent, and although the glass of the miniature instrument was thick for its size, I could almost feel the friction of each grain as they slide down. As the sand formed a growing pile at the base of the bottom bulb, my ears became numb, and began to ache. My ears felt like the inside of a cathedral, the walls of which were collapsing. I look down to my right hand and see I am holding a shovel. Why do I need a shovel? I thought to myself. Then I felt my knees give way to the heaviness that surrounded them. I was sinking in sand, a giant ocean of sand. This game I had never played before now, but I somehow knew the rules. Drop the sandglass in my left hand and whatever force held this ocean around me in place would fall and shatter. Drop the shovel and I’d have no way to dig myself out.  
How does this dream end?

The forest was flush with light;
The dew upon every leaf and bush shined like emerald tears
Fallen from the rhinestone sky above.
Hues and blushes of reflection went vibrant without limit;
All the things our eyes beheld forced us to soon shut them,
Or else the ability of sight would be no more.
The songs of fire-bellied sparrows and yawning owls that hid in tree-hollows
Echoed through the tunnels of our ears,
Into our pumping brain,
And then were sent down our spines in reaction.
We slipped off our shoes
And our bare feet sunk deep into the wet mud and moss that still held the chill licks from night’s tongues.
The layered breezes through the branches
Tumbled over our pale skins and whispered into the hallow spaces of our ears.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Every swish of forest damp air drained the moist saliva off our tongues
And carried it away through the windows between trees,
Far, far away…
Far away so we would never find the words we wished to say.
The splendor of the sunshine through the emerald trees
Upon our bare arms and legs gave us new breath to live,
New eyes to see,
New tears to shed,
New nostrils to smell…
The secret tide of all natural things flowed here;
In this place
Where our feet were bare,
Where our eyes were shut,
Where the words we wished to say were taken far, far away,
Through the windows between trees.

Flip of the switch,
Let us gaze up into the night sky
And all the stars.
How many countless worlds are out there?
How many countless lovers are in those worlds?

Often these days, I am convinced that I’m crazy. As crazy as my mother, whose fear of loneliness caused her to transform from her fiery, beautiful self into a demon.  As crazy as a storm that in its chaos rips the roots of trees from the ground and destroys the home of families and sometimes families themselves.
I have the dark and light on both shoulders, my inner devil and inner angel. The devil me, with her knotted hair and ***** snarl, whispers words of suspicion and anger, constantly aiming to manipulate and self-destruct. Then there is the angel me, with bright green-blue eyes and perfect white teeth, whispering soothing reminders of beautiful memories and quiet thanks.
We all, every one of us, have our own devil and angel. Why is it that we allow this devil to exist within us, and allow our angel to be thrown to the side? Sometimes our angel wins yes, but still… until one side or the other wins, we Allow a part of us to Want to self-destruct and cause continual suffering. Why is this?

Down in the valley below,
There grow three cedar trees,
One on the right, one on the left,
And one in the center.
Their leaves are evergreen
And their trunks are strong and lean.
Their roots are deep
And their lives are long.
These cedars look up at the sky,
Day and night,
Watching the clouds and stars.
They breathe deeply and sing sweetly.
These three cedar trees,
These three earth sisters,
Keep on growing, reaching up towards the sky.

*One of three poems I wrote for my friend's granddaughters

The complications of our relationship had reached their complicated peek
Giving way to an avalanche of confused thoughts and imaginary voices.
We both loved one another, and still do.  

The needle that tore my heart open
Became the needle that threaded it back together.
We both overcame the complications and confusion,
He and I.
Our hearts were whole again,
Beating like water-skin drums in unison,
Never going off tune.

I didn't write a poem of reunion or of the happy joy of being together again...
I don't know why.
Now I wish I had.
If I had, maybe this new seed of doubt that is sprouting wouldn't be.

I don't yet know if an end will come or if all will stay intact.
But I do know, that whichever way it goes,
He promised to take me to the river for my birthday.
And that makes me happy.

Two moons,
The same number of suns,
Weaving a translucent tune,
A tune that would shun the world into a solo sphere of silence.

Two beams of silver,
The same fracture of golden-light,
Making sight something of delicate existence,
That if searched for would only drive into hiding.

Two eyes of gray,
The same ****** feature,
Making a quartet of stares,
Stares that would send shudders down a giant’s spine.

The tea is steeping.
The fire is dancing.
Here I am sitting,
With a book in my hands.

Outside the wind is blowing,
Cold and dry
Like the breath of a night lizard of the desert.

The biting winds promise for rain,
But the shallow blue skies will not yield to the call
For liquid storms.
So here we all are,
In-between what seems summer and
What seems to resemble the autumn season.
The leaves all round are shifting to warm colors,
Yet much of the vegetation remains lush and green.

This season is one undecided and uncertain,
Like,
I now note,
Many of the realities occurring.
Change and uncertainty is tasted by so many at once,
Just like all of nature round us.
Undecided uncertainty.
What confusion and mystery is life?

The Yuba River was my heart beat.
It's rushing rapids and trickling streams my veins.
The fog that lay as blanket on the surface in early morning was my breathe.
The cold and sun touched rocks were my palms and foot soles.

Nevada City.
That little bubble of a town was my home.
Walking down Broad Street made each step I took a joyous jump.
Sitting in the Curly Wolf and the Foxhound drinking espresso to quench my caffeine addiction, always brought the calmest of tones on my mind.
Sitting in Three Forks, smiling at my coworkers, eating a croissant on my break or on my day off, always brought the warmest smile to my face.

The Yuba River. Nevada City.
The people that made me happy and the people that made me cringe.
All of it, I loved and still hold dear.

But, it was time.
On November 17th at 8 pm I buckled my strap and looked out the planes shaky window.
It was time for my adventures to begin.
I was ready to embrace this chance to start fresh.
Oh what an exciting, terrifying, incredible decision this was.
The best I've ever made.

Now, the North Cali girl
Is in New Zealand, Middle Earth, Kiwi Land.
And she is beyond happy!
Beyond joyous!
Beyond grateful!
She feels whole, and she feels independent and strong.
She's in love with herself
And everything around her.

As the Kiwis say...
Cheers

I feel as if my body is zinc and steel,
Heated to volcanic temperatures to be molded
And shaped into a train.
My body is made of all these strong, hardy metals.
It’s a body meant to pierce the winds and divide the landscapes
At a speed the eye cannot keep.
A body with a straight forward purpose;
To keep traveling and keep on shining.
Seems a lovely life doesn’t it?
Travel and wander the tracks day after day after day.
Experience the new time and time again while in one amazing physical body,
A body I can call mine.
But then what sounds continuously penetrate my metallic ears?
The shuffle of feet and the screams and cracks of tired, hot engines.
Never any QUIET!
At the very beginning it was exciting,
And stayed so for a while.
Then those new exciting sounds turned into merciless loud noise.
…
Tonight, I feel as though my body is a train made from zinc and steel.
Tonight, my mind feels like the noise and chaos of rushed steps and loud engines.
Tonight, I am a train that is screaming into the night.

Small feet dancing through the leaves,
Those cover the summer dry forest ground,
Pale white footed souls setting foot on ground,
Brown tattooed feet meeting air.

Sun orange, wheat gold,
Water blue, crystal purple,
Loose wave like fabric,
Creating quiet ripples in the wind,
When quick dancing prevails.

Youthful laughter tossed between shady trees,
Innocent voices echoed across sky reflecting surface,
Light energy submerged into a midsummer’s dance,
Sun peaking light between trees,
Spying six young fairies’,
Circling their queen beauty.

Lamenting tune of the lute...
Carried through the world, upon the back of the ever-dancing wind...
Bringing to soaking-tears the eyes of those who hear,
and a numb feeling of hollow being.

Strong pondering thud of the drum...
Vibrating echoes of awareness into the deep soil...
Causing tree roots to tremble with warning,
Animals to hide themselves in their burrow holes.

Shy, quiet notes of the piano...
Each key surfacing waves of blushing beams...
Caressing the near-by sea salt waters,
Filling the mystique vast ocean with melodious company.

The sun had gone to shine on another corner of the world.
The sky was still blue, and it was still day,
But it was shady and breeze was quiet, yet absolute.
I undressed, slowly, and kicked the clothes in corner.
I settled down on my mattress, then pulled the duvet over my head.
I thought of the man I loved and what he was doing.
I thought of the things of yesterday and what they meant.
I thought… so many things.
Though, as the seconds slowly turned to minutes a many,
Thoughts dissolved like sand over fire.
As my eyes surrendered to sleep,
So the thoughts surrendered… to what?
I know not.
All I do know is that an hour later my eyes opened; I woke from my nap.
What was an hour seemed like a week.
I was hibernating in the concave of dreams.
What I dreamt I do not remember.
What was it that caused the outside world to seem so new?
What went on, in that concave of dreams?

Darkness creeps over the waters
Of the Blind Rivers,
Making so that even the crane’s white silhouette
May not be seen catching fish in the shallows.
The breezes that belong to the sunset hour
Caress the blackened waters that are blind
And so cause silent waves.

A man sits,
Keeping company to
The crane,
And listens to the Truth behind
This landscape’s façade of uninterrupted quiet.

In the breezes,
He hears the last screams of those thousands  
Drowned in those waters.
He hears all the unspoken words
That should have been said.
He hears throat held silence
That the frightened hid behind.

In the darkness
He sees the contours of
Dreams never lived,
Cobble cities never built,
Books never written.
He sees the expressionless faces of many,
Whose eyes are gray and frightened
Whose mouths tremble to utter words
Whose skin is pale as canvas.

In the space surrounding the Blind Rivers,
Among the breezes that harbor screams,
Amidst the darkness that holds the unseen,
Alongside the white silhouette of the crane,
Sits a man,
Tired of the lies that construct this world,
At peace with solely himself,
And in solitude,
Sits as the sentry of Truth.

Nature’s tongue speech
Echoes eclipsed messages
Those with meaning obscure
Only to be understood
By those with watchful ears and eyes of clarity

Seclusion within the draping ivy
Enclosed groves where
Orange butterflies sleep
On the hanging leaves
Or on the moss gowned boulders
Aquatic *******
Those emerge from the river’s surface

These settings of nature
Among countless others
Are cloisters offered
To humanity to give
Spacious thought and contemplation

Clarity is gifted to those
Whose minds are fogged with worry

Innovation given to those who feel lost
Along with answers to questions clogging the ego

Simplicity is nature’s
Sentinel watch
Bringing to full fall anything
Of complicated form

The bosun of all trivial thought
Is opened to a palace of abundant wonders
Once they witness nature’s smile

The bosoms of all trees send out
Vibrational waves of ancient breath
Breath that keeps all alive

The stars that are the
Watchful eyes of the sky
Shed tears for those
Happenings of sorrowful textures
And light for those happenings
Of a lover’s delight

Teachings ascend generations
In light year slowness
Reminding the new born youth
Of the songs that brought life to being

The fathomless oceans hold mysteries
Unimaginable and dangerous

Nature holds all in its arms
All but ego and corruption
These that exist only in the human mind

I feel we connect, you know?
We like to observe things,
We like to create things,
You like painting,
I like building things.
I think we have a connection,
You know?

Pretty words.
In that moment they shone so bright,
As if they were covered in morning dew.
What a fool was I?
To fall for such sweet talk,
As I had done so many times before.
How long does it take to learn something?

I think I’m in love.
I thought then.
I think I was made a fool.
I know that now.
It hurt then,
It always does at first.

I’ve learned a lot since,
I’ve learned that thinking won’t get you anywhere,
Except in a nowhere void where darkness ***** your blood like mosquitoes.

Knowing is the best way to go,
The only way to go rather,
If you really do want to get anywhere.
With friendship least you know.
With friendship you don’t ever think
I think.
All you think is
I know.*

A beautiful feeling it is.

The patient dance of the September sun,
Making its slow journey through the dotted sky,
Proceeding in its exodus,
Over mountains snaking the outskirts of the valley,
Where sun will start its early winter cycle,
Through the coming months.

Premature winds,
Developing undulate postures
In the rhinestone sky,
Rustling fields of barley,
Amber maples,
Moist mosses clinging,
The verdant silks of the Earth.

The slow trickle-trickling
Of murky warm streams,
Their stillness intruded,
By the melting snows of mountains high,
Shaping sky-reflecting rivers;
Always flowing,
Never stopping.

Winter,
Bringer of frost and rain,
Storms of blinding cold,
Has opened her impassive eyes to the world.

Her head bent
Like reeds blown in a storm.
The veins of her throat pulse
Hot blood pumping
Up and out her gaping mouth.

Her damp locks veil her face
From the flames in consume
Surrounding the grove where she sits.
Those which had once been her eyes
Now blackened by burning soot
Pay her no more ability of sight

In the dark clutches of night
Where flames and embers
The world’s lantern
Tempest clouds
Let loose salty tears.

In this hollow space
Between the wind’s gusts and fires crusts
She sings what her voice
Holds left:

*Hail the silence of the burned trees
Hail the curses of the world’s ceaseless moans
Hail the blindness of the flaming bees
Hail the round-topped sheltered domes
This grove doth bestow
Hey-** hey-**
What doth bestow
Is apt to know
Hey-** hey-**
Hark the withering leaves
Of Autumn’s first winds
Hark the blooming ashes
Autumn’s second tale begins

My feet are bare
Slow like a mute’s speech
They turn purple and gray
Soon they are frozen
To the ice surface
They stand on
Icicles upward grow
The toe nails crack
The veins below skin
Turn black

A blizzard blows
I cannot move
My arms and legs collect
The snow
My fingers split from cold
From which red liquid drips
And in falling descent
Freezes into
Down facing pillars

As the cold
Chokes upward my throat
Vocal and lungs freeze
And from high pressure
Shatter into shards of glass
I want to scream
But I cannot open my mouth
I bite my tongue
My lips are now solid shut
Slowly burning
Burning

Green eyes
Transform glassy mirrors
Reflecting the approaching moon

Naked am I
Naked of all
Sight
Smell
Hearing

Below my frozen feet cracks the ice
And in the freezing waters
This statue that I now am
Drowns
Into the darkness

Retrospect reoccuring,
Endless thoughts back tracking
Into what could have been,
What would have been,
If different foot steps were taken,
Another path chosen,
Other words spoken.

Years and years now,
I lived in the past,
Keeping past hardships and mistakes
Just one step away.


What a fool was I,
to make the past my future.

Now is what matters,
The now brings truth,
The now brings joy,
The now brings change.

I sit in the now,
Absord the now,
Give thanks to the now,
And I flourish.

The last creature of the world,
Seeing the land through peaceful eyes,
Did the one thing it always wanted to do;
It swallowed the sun.

Where did you go?
The rim of the glass has my lipstick on it,
Still warm.
My patience couldn't hold.
I had to sip my excitement at bay.

Where did you go?
Come back please!
Finish this bottle with me and
Offer me the apology you promised to give
But couldn't muster the strength to give.

Talk to me!
Not the pasty lifeless wall with no name.
I am not the girl you met back then.
I am a woman ready for life's horror and beauty.

Where did you go?
Come back!!!

...

The red velvet stain on the wine glass
Is cold.
Now I guess I will finish this bottle by myself.
Cheers lonely heart.

Ivory white is the ground
That the snow foxes walk
Forever it has tasted cold
And only under the sun
Has it ever known a warm blush

The moon tries with all
His silver light to bestow
A blush to the snow’s cheeks
He refuses to understand
That he provides no warmth
He fights and fights
The truth that the sun
Is the only one that makes the snows melt

He chases his love in vain
Day in and night out
In a never ending circle
Around the earth

He cries his desires in the
Lightening that makes fires
He battles his emotions through
The changing tides of oceans

Try as he may
And fight as he does
The snows do not bow to his love
Only continue to melt
When the hot sun
Gazes upon her pale body

What were your eyes seeing?
Or were they just glassy lenses with no soul behind?

What words were your lips conjuring?
Or were they chapped and dry?

What judgements and praises was your mind forming?
Or did your pulsing brain dance without a tune?

Speak to me...
I love you....
I remember you...
I love you...