pale sickness
you're white as a sheet

draining illness
your clammy white skin
rots

deathly light
the diseased white sun will bleach your bones
after the doves pick them clean

sickly white
your cracked teeth clatter out of your skull
dominos in a dead white jar


trembling hands the color of spoiling milk
carefully cradle an almost translucent infant
mother and child
both far too weak to feed

the only thing that grows here is decay
white mold thrives on your hoarded white bread
while outside the safety of the white picket fence
there is not a single soul who does not
recognize the white of an unburied skeleton
under a full moon

All along while you were sleeping
beneath the gaze of a missing moon
a light was lost, left us questioning
a sunrise too late? or a sunset soon?
There came tears, downward streaming
it’s disappearance remained unknown
only howling wolves remembering
the night the moon, left the night alone
They blamed dawn and dusk for stealing
none dared to dream another dream
all through the night of restless sleeping,  
weeping was heard across the stream
The night lamenting in search of light
The wind blew lanterns flaming high
the day was to be spent to make it bright
by flicking fire to burn the sky
till silver ripples appearing on the bay
there a moon settles from a journey far
returning home and on its way
from the funeral of a falling star

Dunes
fall on
the shore
of skin,
a poet
closes
her eyes,
in a place
beyond
our own,
the sands
felt soft
upon her
hands, her
thoughts
as water,
in wonder
if they
are
here,
or in
dream,
the grains
of time
under
lights
of the
moon
are her
tides
upon the
sand
hills
of the
stars,
the
guides
above
hold the
hidden
songs,
heard only
in silence,
clouds
emerge, the
monsoon
of spirit
chants
the words
of the
writer
painted
in rain
upon
pages,
dew falls
upon the
palms,
the poet
gazes
upon the
skies, her
hymn is
heard,
“are you
near,
or the
breath
of mine?”,
the winds
rise, the
desert
calls,
“are
you I?”

Start by writing your names in the stars
Scratch it deep into the cosmos. Deep into the black,
Build your dreams of connection upon what was almost.

One more swipe.
One more like.
One more swipe,
Running across falling cards,
Counting cards like calling cards.
I can’t feel my feet.
Tell me I’m beautiful
Dance with me through poems
And down the streetlights.
Talk to me with words whispered only in my language.
This anguish is killing me, but the shows only just begun.
We must vanquish the sin, and never run into the sun
Again.

I made an album out of confusion
I found a journey worth pursuing
in the rubble of it all, I found myself underneath it all
the stones and bricks, the hero within
to save me from this apocalypse
under the shimmering moon I grew
this is a rebirth, once in a blue moon

Is she not in her most pregnant fullness?
She is pulling out more stops
than we cared to admit were there.
Isn’t she toying with all our favorite passions:
Letting everyone know she rules?
And just the same as when she’s hiding,
but now, unrelenting in uncovering;
unabashedly and amusingly daring
anyone not to notice. Oh yes!
She is here and bigger and badder
than you could hope for.

My, my, those #s, they sure don’t lie!
Yes, we are tested. And yes,
we are brought to the edge of the cliff
and invited to jump. And yes,
we see our highest seven
hanging out to balance and center
for our greatest intended good.

We salute you, Oh Divine Mother Moon!
We bow to your intuitive wisdom
and transcendental truths,
as you align our frequencies
on all dimensions
only to truth.

Moon holds court before the sun
shuffles off lately. Looks so
beautirific hanging out in the cloudless
bright, blue sky. She’s got a secret
she’s holding in till she’s fully ready
in her own way. Glowing
with mysterious luminescence;
beckoning us to pay close attention.
She’s got something
that's gonna knock our socks off

I forgot who I was along the thread of lives that hold me here.
Now, I can begin to remember.
Now, I can call all the lost pieces back home.
They fly back, as if waiting – held in suspended animation –
until the right prayer is chanted, the right spell cast.
We call to each other, all the scattered fragments of this soul.
Even the ones that seemed to betray us.
We welcome them all again
with warm heart and wide, open arms.
The child shaman, the nurse,
the chamber maid, the *******,
the revolutionary, the teacher,
the old witch, the mother:
We see each other one
as the one we are also.
We are coming into oneness with what we are.
We are here. Finally, we are here.

The night reveals
all that daylight can’t diminish.
We are walking onward
to a truth without prediction.
Sacred and hallowed and
naturally untouched ground are we,
the chosen ones, to tread.
We do so not alone. Yet,
we are here
with the souls of ancients
and the infinity of Grace.
We see time as One.
We see us as One.