Childhood address remembered
all these years. Used now as
a password, a code, a credit card number:

the place itself a mist
of memories, light palpable
in the smoked filled air

Lawn springing downhill,
steeply impossible to mow,
steps winding up to a green door
as if in a dream.

garage below where is used to hide
among small dark thoughts
hanging from their webs
barely discerned in the dust
of time.

That’s where it all began
the endless internal battle,
the wasps’ nest of emotions,
the constant buzzing of the mind’s
heavy present that always
“seems to fail this bubble of a heart.”

To soothe away the pain,
first dip into the glacial glow
of a million galaxies,
full of fire and ice.

Next, catch a moonbeam –
just one – in the palm of your hand
to remind you who you are.

Then carefully collect the wreckage
of the past to celebrate rebirth.
Search for wisdom’s blade of grass
hidden in the crevices of naked stone.

Deeply feel the force of things
but try to find how not to shatter
in the in-betweens of chaos.

Let the half-moon remind you
Of the of the shiny side
of you. Then go out searching
among the prickly weeds,
armed with shears of patience
To give all good things
a chance to bloom.

What medicine have you given me, Doctor,
that makes those thoughts hop about my mind
like an invisible sparrow, leaving only
a trembling branch behind?

What is this new blue breeze
rippling through me, this vibration
of airy fluidity playing with me
like a child with a kite?

Is this natural, this floating life,
this joyous rambling, countless
curiosities popping up along the path,
this soft mist inking life’s stony edges?

If Moon is the essence of mind’s
ever-changing illusion, then clinging
to world is hopeless. Yes, Doctor,
I’ll take your medicine, if it let’s me
dream forever.

Moving an enormous past,
so many years of things,
each once having had
it own significance,
now become a burden.

That lacquered box
of coasters, gift from
a dear friend,
that hand-crafted elephant
from a long-forgotten holiday.
Books are the worst, still speaking
in loud voices of hours of pleasure
spent together.

Life cut into small pieces,
boxed, stored, given away.
Heartbreak is what remains
in the tiny space allotted.

Abundance now resonates
with regret, yet it’s all about
letting go. Time transformed
to some wonderful winged creature,
recognizing no difference
between before and after.

Katydid lover, your ******* form
slips nightly into my bed,
rubbing my limbs with a love song.
A waterlily corolla my pillow,
and you, the charm of a colibris,
drinking from my *******.
You lift my gown of gauzy film,
my wings emerging from
webbed sleeves, spider legs
from mist-net stockings.
Then, suddenly, we’re together,
held in this sticky, perfumed cloud,
hoping the rain will never wash us apart.

I am a spirit electric
begot by the gods of random,
mothered by chaos.

I live viciously,
eat forbidden fruit,
wreak havoc wherever
I go.

I am wild sea
I am dust-storm,
tsunami, volcano,
steel-breasted, fire-armed
on the outside.

I am petal-hearted,
honey-breathed,
cloud-kissed,
gold-showered
on­ the inside.

I weave multi-colored magic
onto mountains, spray deserts
with quivering star-drops.
expect impossibly wonderful
outcomes.

I want to die like
that old Chinese poet –
drunk, drowned in a pond,
trying to embrace the full moon.