It’s high time, high tide
we push the boats out


a stone   ’   s throw away


my arm gets stronger
and everything
gets further and further

Her breath is the lavish humidity
She sings with the symphonies of crickets
Her tears are delicate rainfalls, washing the silence
Her breathing is the wind that shivers the palm trees

She calls out to you
Wraps you in Her arms
Cleanses you,
Heals you

She is serene
She is abundant
She is warmth
She is Love

Mother Bali, watch over me always
Deliver me Home

I am an island
A safe haven
A warm body
For traveling sailors to rest their weary heads
Blink away tears
Tears that
     fall
        splash
           disappear into the saltwater sea
The droplets dissolving into the tapestry of waves
Becoming one
A scream
A relief
A prayer
Always part of the beautiful secret that I keep tucked within my shores

Wanderer, I am your island
My love for you is true and unconditional
My vegetation is lush
My beauty is boundless
For you
Take what you need
And in this moments I am yours completely
I offer myself to you
I will sing you to sleep with the sound of my wind
Watch over you
Shine the stars upon your face
Cradle your cold hands
And you will feel home

But I am an island
And sometimes I have storms
My branches break
My waves crash
My flowers start to wither

And, in these storms, I am just an island
Just land and water
Just shore and sand
I am just an island
The magic is no more
Permanently impermanent I become

…And nobody stays…

Having all they need, these sailors rush to board their ships
With warm hands, they pluck my flowers
Making hurried bouquets to take home to their loves
Their fingers sting
Why do they sting?
And stems sway in the storm

They never listened to my whispers
They will not listen to my cries
They only needed some distraction
That they found within my eyes

With the winds
The footprints fade
No evidence that they were ever here

I have everything to give.

I have nothing left to give.

I am an island.
An island
An island
An island
     I am.

Floating
Sinking
Swimming
Drowning

Evading capture,
But I'm on an island.
Surrounded by ocean;
Where I drown
In feelings.

let these waves pull in my hurt

only for it to be

washed upon your shores

marooned in this island of

you.

Somewhere
in the middle of New York
a white-and-blue,
Pacific island:

...
sitting on itself,
prim and low
as if waiting for someone important, but
not wanting to seem so.

sitting on itself,
as if waiting for someone,
many boats go by
(no, not that one...)
(not that one, either...)

sitting on itself,
small and proper
proper and small...
(**** is wet)

sitting on itself...
I wonder How long
has he been sitting there like that,
won't his
feet be cold?
**** be wet?

The lonely island...

he wishes someone would come and sit beside him

sit close but
not too close, as if
friends.
in the past few lives but,
not in this one (yet)

he wishes someone would come and sit beside him

quietly for a moment
then turn to him and say,
with sparkling Pacific angel eyes
turn to him and say,

"The world needs you, Steve."

And Steve would continue staring off into the distant, blue horizon where
there's not much, save for a
distant, blue horizon
...

but pigeons are not gulls,
gulls are not pigeons.

and the Hudson River
is 315 miles long.

"My name isn't Steve."