You are the Love that I Remember,
You melt me through Aeons of Winter.
You make me the blazing Djinn,
You make me the Christ without Sin.

You are the Cure for The Cold
and my love is like Footsteps in Snow.
Where I follow with Feather and Rose.
To give you my Heart and my Soul.

You are the Love that I Remember.
You are the Love that I Recall,
You are the Spirit of my Crossing,
You tie me in Beautiful Woes.

You are the Essence of Color.
Also the midnight cruiser.
You are the spring fawn,
and its your laughter that makes me grow.

You are the will of the bright.
You are the source of my spiritual writing.
You make me the king in blessings.
Blessings of virtue and light.

You are the love that I remember,
the truth and the love that is tender.
You are the ocean of responsibility,
that I pick up when reason is withering.

You are the quintessential virtue.
That all there is to know is full.
The fullness you supply, I imbibe
these virtues; with intimacy, grace and time.

Let my peace, mine, mine, mine, my peace;
let
my
peace, eh, flow into this vessel
or this space?

Peace past understanding,
what's that cost?
if it's free,
what's it worth,
I got some saved up in de-ift metaphors,
containers of general whatifery,
like what if, I'll let all-if-ity
loose
right now, my peace
see
can you feel me now? Even
If you knew the taste of spoken love,
it would seem odd, if
wordless, mmm, so.
weyekin say hmm.

Feel a peace, say
selah, let go

could you feel love from this far?
Have you ever felt the connection
since the repair? The reconciling?
Whenever began
a while ago,

you should feel alive, if you notice.

Speed of thought (not speedothought, shame)

trick,
kidding eh
this is serious, peace is in the balance

war is threatening,
rumoring

life is about to be taken from me.
Really?
No?
Life is being taken from earth itself?
Really?
How is that possible,
Is there a flaw in the recycling schema?
or is there a missing comma somewhere?

Are we cancer and ambiguous?
I think,
if earth hears,
earth is alive, Gaia speaks and breathes or
god,
is it the universe
who speaks and breathes?

Yahweh, as a being I envision invisible as light,
in whom
I live
and breathe and have my being,
speaks, saying
Fret not. Nada mas.

Word o' god.
Then my dogma goes pretty
spacey,
- I begin to see messages massaging
- unction to function, under my skin…
so true,
if what I done, did you good,
but you never knew I was,
should I care?

This peace here, past understanding, you
can call it yours and call it soul,
keep it in your patience
with some practice,
you may learn to
let it go.

my first love
i fell in love with being loved.

now i am searching for a love
such that i can fall in love with loving another.

Here’s the thing about moments; we don’t take the time to appreciate them until they are over
-like that brief second when he pushes your hair away from your face mindlessly while lying down
-like that small amount of time when you’re laughing so hard you’re crying making fun of one another
-like that instant your eyes meet in a crowd full of strangers and you both smile ever so softly
-like that fleeting flash where his hand grips your knee without thought in the car on the way to the grocery store
-like that short minute where he without a care in the world accidentally tells you that he loves you for the first time and you cannot breathe

Love is a series of moments we seemingly take for granted, if only we knew how special those moments were as we were in them

Our plants are looking puny
their leaves are drooping
and yet still they turn to the light
and soak it up
their life inspires me.

I get up out of my comfy chair
out of my observer self
and water them
and in that watering
my blood is circulating
I am breathing in their oxygen
giving back the life they give me.

I need to imitate our plants
soak up the light
and breathe it out.

How will you water today?

Isn’t it strange
how in this brief exchange
of the creative impulse
we gain
a certain kind of intimacy
with each other
yet we never
smell each other
shake hands
breathe the same air
put up with personal idiosyncrasies
and off-putting voice inflections –
all the things our friends and loved ones have to.

Yet here we occupy hearts and minds
many of our friends and loves do not know
with such closeness, interiority, and connectedness.

What a strange and magnificent gift!

The art of longing
was painted
on the wall of sadness,
and yeah
you are the ink of my falling tears.

Silent stars reside
In the blue milieu
Continuing their stellar constancy by day.
They are there like my love,
silent, unpretentious, patient and kind.

Trace your finger along the sky, connecting the dots of your name to a safe, congenial and forgiving place to call home. Maybe your name will meet with mine in the night when the stars return, walking across the expanse of loving kindness that is within your reach.

See you tonight dearest one. Just look up.