8:41am August 1, 2014

looking to find myself
without tools
without chants or charms
no star charts or guides
Nothing to suffer
nothing to gain
still, I am
unlatched from time
Concept of finding
believes in being lost.

12:42pm July 28, 2014


Love is a subject
glorified by apparitions
by lengthly ghosts passer-bye’s
good-bye hosts. Love was not
Cohen’s victory march, rather
a fluid stream that embedded
when evaporations took breathing
under mud, seriously.
I look for love, always/all ways linger(s/ing)
in shadows and store-fronts
bewilder(ing) face brows in question marks across mindless thinking
Love lingers just on the corners of my mouth
tasting like wine or brandy or nothing
just a phantom of a kiss
before bruises unwelcome
trying too hard to find
Love is a subject expanding, contracting
yet-never really going anywhere
just dancing in the strobe lights of existence
fluxing with prescribed perceptions
winged she wills to fly free when mirrors
are slates-free from creases.
Love forgive me if I trespass too long
you just smell like a garden I remembered
from an ancient place, before time.

6:20am July 28, 2014

I am
a hurricane strumming a washboard by the cherry plucked creek-side bed
I keep unfiltered honey in my purse just to remind myself that I dream of being
a bee charmer
It smells like cyber-space as the sun rises at 5.a.m. I am
status lying a magic carpet that made the small world forget how the King is still taking whats “his” from an uncivilized society blinded by the broken machine
He told me, to watch out for falling parts and perhaps we can steampunk them revolutionary, while they war over organic farm eggs, in the mid-west
Calling in credit checks on cash cards that have no real value, just the sound of chips falling like river ripples on stone cold words of washboarding poets.

9:53am July 24, 2014

I resolved to give it all away
as though holding is

How can I hold to myself?

I resolved to watch it fly
as sky wrapped her arms
around his beauty
and I swear to this day
she dropped love into
his blue eyes…

And an olive branch
within his words

6:18am July 24, 2014

On the slow rise
your words are as
knives or butterflies.
Still sleeping in a
daydream, a walk-about
Trail of replicas to my
naked soul-
Fill my cup
see, swirl, sniff, sip, savor.
Atlas needlepointed
maps sinew of foxes.
Sahasrara up- right
Chiming daylight and
glowing hummingbirds
at night. Can we meet
: between :
life and death
love and hate
right and wrong :?:
flesh pressed
colors bleed
nations forgotten
ideas spooling
thread to sew a
a map to infinity.

10:56pm July 18, 2014

I (can) lay in still meadows
of my last breath to see
his smiling face.
If you know what this
That I never held on to let go
I simply walk through his garden
resisting the urge to embrace
his weeds

My thoughts bloom
and fade beside thorns
War paint has faded now
finally, faded.
And here I rest in thousand(s)
deaths. Here I am always.

All ways.

In still meadows
breathing in
his smiling face.

5:42pm July 18, 2014

Subterranean lips
echo dry canyons where
hawk calls for redemption
[this long desert sufferer]
I see scraggly thin roots
sprouting into emptiness
half chance of over crowded
mountain sides. When they
gather together it forms
a cave, where the silhouette
of a spider is surfing waves
on the web of wind. The heat
at noon sunspots my back and
paints sunrises or sunsets
deeply in strands of hair.
The secret is concealed in
cleft of grand, listen closely
to the heat as she sings
subterranean hum of
cleft side skirts.

2:37pm July 16, 2014

When burning photos
memory fades

of finding paper trails
that put feeling(s)
back in my grasp

Like a god, then.

I feel like a god of
my own fate

Fading away

1:48pm July 16, 2014

“——> My best friend is also my lover”

— This is how I laugh at hurricanes
dance in the middle of tornados
kiss death frenchily teasing tongues
and walk away in my mind without moving a foot.
1:42pm July 16, 2014
Word arting by hand (not iphone)

Word arting by hand (not iphone)