god stood by me, he hid in my pocket like a piece of amethyst
when i ran he turned into the forest to envelop me
his spirits became soft grasses, scented woods and colorful flower



The elderly woman in her garden in the early morning before the sun rises too high. She never sprays chemicals to get rid of the snails, instead she works and plants for and around them. This garden is to celebrate life, not to take it away. The wooden fence bordering her property is low and unoffensive enough to allow through woodland creatures who are never shooed away for taking a walk or a bite through the herbage. Perhaps she is atoning for a life of death and destruction. Or perhaps she is a saint.


They enjoyed things like making forts out of sticks and blankets and cardboard boxes and dressing up and going to the opera.


Memories, fresh like a wound.

Sometimes something so small. Going to the post office. A slideshow of post offices in my life. The disinfected paper smell, the lines of people waiting to mail a package, the solid colors of the interior, gray, black, white. A scrubby short haired black carpet, well worn.


I turned into a set of wings made out of crayon or colored pencil markings. As if pushed and pulled by the wind I stunned through the air, waving in the sunlight, pencil dashes of red and blue and purple. Like an animation from Reading Rainbow.

Thrown and tossed about like a lightweight wale in the sea. An enormous behemoth of grey and blue leaping like a kitten among the waves. It should be terrifying and would be if its teeth were any larger or sharper and if there was not such a happy gleam in its huge eye.

Her skin was as clear as the wind,
The color of the moon,
Smelling of budding flowers and ripening fruit.
Deep as summer, smelling of fire
Dulling the senses causing me to drift into insanity
Thick as honey, sweet sweet abandonment
Drenching wild rain
She lures me with sealskin and jade eyes
Promising many nights of pleasure
A cup as deep as the ocean
Wine aged to perfection
And my thawing hands clawed towards her
Tiny pearls of water melting off of my skin
Into the grass
Burgundy delirium
And daisies.

I remember fairy tales
The dramatic intonation of the story teller The books with gilded pictures Pages sometimes glossy, Sometimes thin and worn.

Stories of enchanted woods and jungles
Of hope and disaster
The most unlikely circumstance
But almost always a miracle

The good dragon, the fairy godmother
Talking animals and secret doors

Rabbits, toads, princes and queens,
Treasure, flying carpets, evil lurking like dark clouds, a sinister gift clad in unsuspecting beauty to the innocent. There is a path through the wood.

Vines and ancient trees, willow and yew; Roses with thorns and wild berries Songbirds and moss and stones of all colors; In fairy tales there are always twists.

She came into my room
A garland in gold and silver
Hair in knots, brightly colored beads
Earthen skin and angel lips
Inviting and giving, offering countless pleasures
Quenching desire, but left becomes cold and empty
Except for hazel eyes.
Breaking locks, she came in unannounced
Fearlessly gleaming face in unnatural inner light
Calling my name in fierce syllables
Fading into raspy whispers before me in the flames
Screaming, skin to bones, revealing rotting teeth
Countless dead and empty cells of men
Chasing a siren, trading their souls for that.

The process of creation
Instant in a flash of light through the spoken Word
Or fertilized in the womb
Or sprouting underground
Maybe born of the heavens long ago
Before earth and sun
Born of the stars, exploding into the universe
Or within the volcano
Deep inside the earths core
Born of the waters, the streams and waterfalls
The rich colors of the untouched forest
Initiated in the sounds of night, birdcalls and the occasional howl in moonlight
Sons and daughters of thousand year old oak trees, acorns falling, scattering
Conceived in the deepest and darkest oceans, unaware and uncaring about the mythical surface world
Carried upon by the wind accross the world, currents and pathways charted by the birds and the monarchs
Dandelion child

puke up a rainbow
throw back your head
snap your neck
cackle and dance
scream with laughter
fall on the floor
roll around some
break a bone
another snap
spilling it all out
onto the floor:
red orange
yellow green
blue indigo and violet
puddles

Brilliance fades away, leaving a harsh raw reality. Induced and imagined colors swirl, fade and burn out.
I stood in a white room. White brick walls, white tile floor. Fluorescent lights.

I sat on the floor, against the wall, my back arched. Memory gone. Inhale.

This light isn't real. Pounding light. Blinding light. Unnatural. Piercing. Like the sound of my breath.

Like an interrogation room, a table set in the middle, two chairs. A mirror on the wall. Reflecting the light.

My body is sore, but I stand up. Fingers are tight and numbing. I walk over to the mirror.

Black hair crossing over my forehead, over one grey eye. I push it back; my skin is still soft and clear. Pale in the artificial light.

I reach up, hold my face with my hands. I run my fingers down my cheeks, across my nose, lips, chin.

This is me. Squinting at myself. Inhale. Tilt head, quick smile. I run my hands down the mirror. It reflects the light, but it's black inside. Empty. Hollow. The way I feel.

Footsteps. I look around - there's no door. I walk around the room, my fingers linger on the mirror, tracing the wall. Cold, hard. I can feel the paint.

The footsteps have stopped. There's no sound except for my breathing.

There's no sound. There's no smell. The light illuminates nothing. Nothing interesting. Nothing important. I close my eyes, fall back against the wall.

The wall on my back. Cold and hard. My head falls back.

I remember. Cold and hard steel bars. The soft textures of sheets. A steady flow of air on my face and arms. I can't feel my hands.

I open my eyes. Two men, one in a black uniform with silver badges, another man in a suit. They both wore black shoes. They spoke.

My eyes flickered, my vision blurred. Their distant voices came into focus, I could hear their words, but I couldn't catch what they were saying. Things, bits of sound. I saw nothing but the light with my eyes.

This was too much. An overburdening of the senses. I allowed myself to fall over onto my side, against the wall still. I heard the slumping sound of my body as it reached the floor. My eyes closed.

Before I totally surrendered to letting go, I felt hands touching me, trying to pull me up.

This is too hard, too much. Exhale. And then nothing. Darkness. And then the darkness faded.

Waking up in that room was hard. I was disoriented. I had no memory of anything but white walls and artificial light. I was put in a room with a bed, bright blue curtains, a window, a red flower. My gown was white, the sheets and blankets were white. I could see tubes and machines, I could hear soft humming and a buzz of sounds from outside the door. Shadows from behind the door. Calmness.

Lying in the comfort of the bed, I counted my breaths and blinked. What's wrong with me, I wondered. Where am I? Who am I? Is this death?  At least there’s no pain...

Amid the beauty, the sorrow, the pain, the happiness and the pleasure, sometimes it's just easier to let go. It may be weak, it might be cowardly, but it doesn't matter. Because nothing matters anymore. There is no pain. There is no happiness. There's just me. And then the darkness. And then the breaths. Until they stop. And then it's silent. And before I have to wake up, I can rest.

you are the color of jelly, sparkling and radiant.

as a fish in water, as a bird over soaring green woods.

a deer, alone and afraid - hush, the ferns,  the wind will bring comfort.

He didn’t think that that could have ever been true
The wild orchids not talking anymore –
Guarding their secrets like pearly pools of water.
The first to hear about this was the lily, still waking up covered in dew
She stretched herself open, inhaling living into every grain of her body
Singing to the sun exaltations from his daughter
The dandelions spurned and gossiped among one other
Bobbling yellow heads creating a distraction for the wind
That took the words and spread them through the garden
Indigo butterflies landed on the orchid’s blossom caressing the delicate its delicate curves
Spilling sounds and voices and songs

The procession of the equinoxes
Antiquities dealer
The unspeakable beauty of the amethyst
Gods fingerprints

I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going.......... But that's Okay. Is that what surrendering is?

Blending, learning, adapting, evolving, individuation in spite of universal oneness. Being less proud.

Happiness. Cinnamon. Cookie cutters from the domain. Keep your herb garden alive. I'm -

A fox. El zorro. Le renard.
Daily rituals,
Water w lemon
Apple
Green tea face splash

A history of happiness

Chickens.   Color.    Collage.
Yoga.   Art. Cooking.
Lists. Recording foods.

Evelyn and Alice.
Vivid, lurid descriptions. High Gothic and almost steampunk. The weather. Things unspoken that leave huge impacts. Small tokens of love. Repressed emotions.
Hx of zodiac.

Constantly working for perfection
Inner outer

Nuts, lemon, lime

Keep fire of dreams alive
Read read write create read
Spells for finance and success
Altar space

You're alive
Preservation of breath
Realness if beauty, tranquility
Overcoming sorrow
Cyclical

<i>Les sorts</i> to make them mad, passionate...
Charms for living. Perfection. Attraction wealth abundance.

Clouds and sky and draping cloth, sandstone and quartz and onyx.

An incredible self confidence.
Don't waste a minute of you're life on unhappiness.

D.I.Y. smudge stick. Driftwood. Feathers. Gemstones.

Secrets of a style maniac. Blog. Hidden treasures.

Be my mercury, the wings on my feet.



Amidst the creaks of old trees and the fallen colored leaves.. I see half the future, gone, cherished and perished

The art of self love.
Devotion. Organization. Keep calm. Its ok to have secrets.

Stories and fables and illustrations to go along. Mix of collage, ink, pastel and watercolor

Refine your life like a black and white ink drawing, the fluttering of pen-lined pages like white feathers.


Floating on dreams, its fun to let your feet dangle into the blue warm water, be swept away into another world.


We try to avoid those moments in life. We plan ahead we keep our toes together and our hair ironed, but one can never totally abate the power of wanton embarrassment or other random outbursts...

the small boy leaning against the high grass, feet perched on a rock
looking down into the turning water of the river below

Running forever, for days on end, nights running, even when sleeping the mind never rests.

A miraculous (mi-rac-u-lous) winter stunning of silver and gold
glitter being tossed in the air as the sunlight comes over the white hill
dancing on the hanging ice, shuttering trees dressed in lace.

Picking him up off of the ground
And wiping his little face
The face of love peering into forest brown eyes

Came back again, lost but then found
Wrapped warm in skins and furs
No more tears and deep nighttime cries

A golden morning music filled sun
Nodding awake gently, blue hewn wind
Erasing unquiet, unkempt and wrinkles

Fruit from the ground, food for her son
An escape from dreamland and a roaring buffalo
A trillion stars: flash, elaborate, stun and twinkle

Healing a scar, no more tears, no more blood
Forgotten and sprinkled into the wild fields
Murmuring replaced by silent applause and smiles

A little boy god made from mud
A corn-blue feather at his feet
Dancing creatures, the forest, four miles

Jonotuwa working the light with glass
Pottery, a decorated egg, incensed flowers
Berry red dye accenting glowing skin
And for that night accepting mask
Spied a bird, we sing, we’ll fly
Until we feast and replenish the garden.

What's your favorite flower?

If we could stay inside all day,
laying on the bed together
amidst our books and papers and photographs

Maybe the lawn's on fire,
but we smile at each other
the grass stays green & there's no housework

I'll kiss you behind your ear and lead you into the garden
I'll hold your hand and give you the heart you stole
we'll drink cold water and inhale the cool breeze under a black silky sky,
liquid stars

Even if the neighborhood is under attack
we'll be ok in our house
listening to our breaths and diffusing the bombs under our bed.

Harness his laughter with a spiked rope, laughing old man, shove him into a glass jar for later. A ghost baby, laughing and ******* her thumb, hands you a daisy and giggles. Lets light the park on fire with incense sticks says the apple tree, black against the morning fog.
When the clouds offer you candy, refuse because they want to lure you into the sky and then keep you there. The sun is your only friend, only true friend, even the flowers will lie to you, ***** smelly lies. Do watch the elderly woman feeding the birds, bread crumbs, any park bench will do, bread crumbs for the birds who fight over them greedily. Survival of the fittest remember. Remember remember remember. September December.
Venus’ African lover, leader of a ceremony, drunken procession. Follow the Buddha under to the catacombs where the dandelions grow by the millions, offering their drugs and nighttime services. The ghost baby passes you again with cloud candy, but you know better. You always knew.

Delicately and quietly
Sprouting out of fresh ancient earth
Retaining the memory of snow
But pouring blossoms
Nonetheless
Budding is only natural
And it is only natural that
The golden rays feed the thirst
Inviting desire and a name
Fanning out to all of creation
A snapped branch
An off-color pink inviting my glance
A luring peach, that scent
Reminiscent of rain and sunlight
Causing me to feed into the obsession
The silent language of mud and dirt
Giving forth another flower
Scarlet and demure dancing
Reflection ripples forceful demands
The flicker of an eye, a lash, a tongue
It’s only a tiger lily
Protruding from the black
Silky sounds crystal shattering
Fallen on the grass
Projectile forming fingers
Beckoning unfurling invitation
Enchanting seedlings
Warning of the fires to come
And begging for water
The setting sun.

“The music playing softly over some speakers, the words oblivious to anything else going on around. "Come away with me". The little bell on top of the door opening to the street rang each time it opened.”

Words pouring over me, like rain
Splattering, shattering, falling forever
Flashes of dreams, eclipsing reality
The sun and the moon together in the same sky
Stars falling out of my hands like grains of sand
Bracelets of gold wrapping around my arms, my wrists
Voices singing curling upwards like smoke
Curling, unfurling towards heaven, the sky, space
Fortunes spread out, wider than the sea
Deeper than my soul, drowning and flailing in confusion
Fighting with words and fists, struggling just to exist
Going under, under, caving in, giving in

It’s like closing your eyes with lights playing tricks
Hovering in front of your eyes, melting, softly glowing
Feeling the warmth of the sunlight, the firelight
Ignoring the searing burn, never wait, never learn
Close your eyes, you cant see the world on fire
Surround yourself with sweet perfume
You cant smell the thickening smoke
Threatening to overpower everything you don’t know.

Remain calm.
Cleanse your soul like you are forgetting everything, falling down a waterfall....
Falling into a painting
500 years old
still vibrant primaries and darker inky blues and blacks,
swirling light, fabric moving such as not seen in this world.

One day we went outside into the forest. It was dark, the clouds were like iron smoke but then the moon came up, the nighttime sun and filled our hearts with wonder.

We lit a fire and began to sign as the night-wood creatures joined in.
Dancing turned into Ecstasy as our movements became wild, shouting and becoming filled with the presence.

All that was left were the colors and hues
After death or divorce
Or more mundane, change of residence
Whatever, the flowers do bloom always in their season
The colors of the walls
Though they can be torn down
I saw them, earth tones, brown and a summer oak beige
Reminding me of warm days under India green and azure;
After everything's gone and the ghosts of stars simmer like dying coals, no eyes left to see; even if the scientist says its just an illusion of light
Like faith i believe, i see and i remember

there is an innate connection between us
me and him
me and her
me and them – the others
though we've never met
they say they’re like clips on the soul
markings that scar our hearts
and plague our minds
stories of our lives
beautiful mornings and walking
and living, just living
passing through and in between and under
three words – I Love You
a separation in consuming flames
screaming and crying out
in fine clothes and at parties
smiling but dying in the dark
secret doorways hiding secret pains
bonds growing stronger, blocking out the sunlight
or binding us to heaven’s
receiving.




There’s just so much
and once you’re so tired of crying
and the mirrors begin to clear
and the silence resumes
god stops laughing
and you just wait
for a spark
for a noise
or for a color
if it's catching the moments
of searing pain and confusion
that teach you life and death and love
and the unimaginable
becomes attainable

Cellos in a stone chamber
Only moments earlier
A change of feeling or a tremor in the air
The whole symphony would have been different.

It was the night my hair all came off.
It was the night I never wanted to let go of you.
It was the night that every breath I took took took me farther away from you in time, but closer to you in my heart.
It was the night before the morning that I had to rip myself away from you to go back to an empty city.
The clock ticked silently as I tossed and I turned, unwilling to close my eyes to your face, knowing that once I fell into the comfort of sleep I would immediately be yanked back up - to get dressed, to carry my bags, to leave your warmth, your love, your bed.
I didn't live in the future or the past, I lived in the sea of our love, because that was the present. Throwing my passions and dreams on the floor to be yours, sweeping them back up again like flour, snow dust, magical. Consummating our love over and over and blurring the lines, melting the rules, playing our own game.
Waiting helplessly for you to tell me not to go, though no one knew what to do, what to say, how to feel.
It was the night I couldn’t feel because my light was being turned off.
It was the night my body slipped away, the night we shed our tears, the night we made love with our eyes. One of the nights I fell in love with you.

You tried to pick me up
when I had fallen so far
the problem was you don't know who you are
your charm and your beautiful smile
I felt safe as soon as I got into your car
we went so far away
but you were just playing that game
you've played so many times before

It wasn't a game to me
how could you do this to me
I trusted you
you promised to set me free
that we would always me
but that was just me
you set me free

I was focused on our future
but stuck in the past
I didn't have much but I gave you my all
while you were stuck in the last
moments you shared
with people who didn't care

But baby I care
I would have always been there
(with you)

I jumped off the roof just to fall
you promised that you would call
so many memories of that fall
and that fall I fell so hard
fell so hard
how can I get off the ground

I was never lazy
love's ******* crazy
smoking on the daily
always getting faded
I still love you baby
getting better maybe
or else I'm just jaded
should've never dated
or never separated
why's it's so complicated
we could've made it

I took the bait
you dangled for me
I should have known
it was too easy

You promised me change
and that I'd be safe
then you took me so far away
from any normal place
you're really deranged
maybe even insane

But I'd probably drop everything
to be with you again