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Archive of posts published in the category: poetry


i am unfurled unwrapped by life’s hardships, joys and mysteries. without understanding why, i have lived without a name.   Unfurl

mortal words

i’ve decided that i don’t want to write, not with my hands anyway. i want to think words onto paper and screens and leaves and stones and skies. i want words to fall onto the sand and clay soil, carved into ice and…

i am the stream…

i am the stream… of consciousness. it is 2:38pm, monday, the In The Beginning day of the week august 14. twenty seventeen, whatever that means it is the day when i want to forget the days and seconds and step into infinity, the…

save words

i will save words for you. bottled and pickled words for you. then feed you synonyms of me, so you will always remember my taste. i will flavor your life until all your tongue remembers is what it is was like to come…to…

satchel of poems

I had a satchel filled with poems that I tossed into the sea. I wrote them on tiny circles and squares and rectangles woven with jute, some in permanent gold ink, others lovingly stitched on over the course of many sunrises and sunsets.…

ink spill

I spilled ink across the blank pages of my notebook. It was then that I decided to write stories with my fingers.

the words spill

The words spill from my pen, blood red, no longer wanting to be ink, but to be life. The words follow me into my dreams. There, I am sky bound. Landing is a matter of chance.


We all seek freedom in one way or another. But in the end, we live in an age where none of us know what true freedom feels like. We’ve never lived it beyond our mind and flowering imagination. Although I don’t know what…

i hide

i hide inside myself, in the dark corners of memory, in the light of a thousand what-could-have-beens.

the thinning web

The silken network of threads thin inside me; those webs that stick to everything that I am. They thin, inch by inch, but strengthen, holding on to heart and lung and liver and spleen. They hang on to sinew; but muscles and bones…


Strong, sturdy hips receive hungry thrusts. Authentic sex is not for the weak. Fainting hearts are not welcome here. Moans crescendo, vibrating leaves and rippling rivers. Bodies transform, like werewolves under a hunter’s moon. Two bodies cast a single shadow upon the leaves,…


Gaia I am in awe. Life. It sings to my soul. New Songs. Honor it now. Earth.

the clouds in prayer

The clouds interlace fingers seeking prayer, an impassioned supplication to the un-gods.  They spread across skies gathering stories of un-time, spaces inside cycles that collect memories we will never touch, nor taste. Nor see. Clouds beseech the un-gods, begging for intervention. But the…


we are here to see the impossible sometimes through the night other times through the rain we must see inside self see inside the places we’ve forgotten exist

time leaves

one day, when time leaves snow will be warm and the sun green. the ancestors will return and birth, painless. knowledge drinkable and love no longer for sale. i will be the birds i envy. they will walk in human skin. when time…

words come

i read the wind. the words color me in shades of scented gardenias. the words take to the clouds, and write their sex song. i am churned by the scent of ecstasy. my yoni rises to meet you in between the rough sentences.…

the cauldron

the moon waits for me. i become the terpsichorean, naked, fragile, unclothed in darkness. my hips are my cauldron. i stir. i stir for the babies not yet conceived. i stir for love and longing. i stir for survival. i wait for the…

the lonely road

The poem below by Frost is the life I’ve always lived, the road less traveled. It keeps me sane, even as it sometimes leaves me lonely in this world. Most times, lonely in a room filled with people. The Road Not Taken by…

blue world

I won’t be saved by you. Only the sky can save me from this blue world wondering how it came to be.

i will go now

I read this piece by Yeats recently and it struck a cord. The Lake Isle of Innisfree W. B. Yeats, 1865 – 1939 I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree, And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles…



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