Category Archives: Poetry


Jon and Zach have the same teeth and smile-cracked eyes

Zachary and Nick have the same neck and smile,

eyes always glint the same across families

if we’re attracted to anything in a mate, it’s the eyes

that first hatched into our view,

a spaceship pervading the strung mobile, spinning spinning

then novelty – tufts – foreheads — Faces!

the new spectacle tucked side by side

by flesh, enclosed in people, the eyes were the real entities, never

“daddy” or “mama!”

parents think themselves mighty proud for their visage to produce a label,

for this so-called understanding to emerge in their smart, smart babies.

But for the baby, it was only ever the eyes they spoke to.

when I’m despondent and depressed, I will not look into eyes,

when I’m confident and self assured, I speak only to eyes

when I tell you that I love you, I tell your eyes, because they are the ones that see me

I may find a blind lover, that they might love my voice, and my touch

but nary a love is started outside of the eyes.


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Filed under Inspiration, observations, Poetry, Thoughts

Don’t Leave Me for Dead

We are the divine beings sliding rusty nails into our virgin soles.

The walking awake, table full of bread

Oh God, so empty and broken and already dead

In energy’s absence, an inactive volcano

being eroded by wind and water

Oh God! I just want to feel something!

Give me pain, anger, anything but stillness

One day, I’ll stretch my neck to stay awake

and it will flock off without my body

One day, I’ll find the determination to pluck my marbles from their sockets

my sick eyes searching for connection in my comatose corpse

The answer can’t be not thinking about it – Truth!

Truth leaves my guts for the gulls

I’m torn and motionless, raped by emotion’s kiss

gobbled by the guilty gutter

staring at stones

Do I not have the gumption to drag myself home?

Have I resigned to take residence in the filth and delay?

I’ve forgotten to walk and now I must stay.

I need someone to look at me and know I’m not okay

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The Lover’s Lament

The Father

I see myself made in your image

the blind standing before a house of mirrors
my reflection talking back
and aching before me in whispers
but all you can do is poke sensitive needles through
my eyes, between the blue
that we share, Oh Father who art in heaven,
tell me more of our hallowed ghouls
stop speaking to me of talking and sing! You, mightiest of kings
with honor and stoic gladness,
you pivot on white heels
and all I follow are footsteps
The Lover’s purpose in life is to live lone
to remember the home from which we’re thrown,
divorce the king and keep his throne
The Son
 You, the object from which my self reflects off
 Brilliant drunkard, you slur to me
you sip and you keep raw insides
where they came from.
Your perceptive perspective isn’t something you make
for all the facades you frequently fake;
I’d like to see you in a state of complete wreck
I want to see your tears
balancing on the sallow edge of your cheek
If I could be there when you lose everything
I think I could understand your distance
The Lover’s purpose in life is to live lone
to uncurl the knots from which I’m prone
to strip the body from its bone
The Holy Spirit
 Drawn in by your self destructive tendencies
adrenaline jet stream heart beat echoes
ripples out waves of wishes for the suicide of my self
explaining to gawked earlobes that your genius is madness
stroking my sadness
palms aching to be placed on your knee
and that only.
my heart bleeds and comes undone
and simultaneously seeps into no one
mourning your absence though you’re always here
the living dead in its most reverent pains
I dip into your trauma when you cut the reins
Don’t hold my hand, but Please!
Don’t settle for a good time.
I need the familiar threads of your patterns to weave into mine
you have me all wrapped up around fingers as twine
your brine stained eyes will never not sting mine
So I mind the voice that makes the moan,
removing the melody from the tone
because the Lover’s purpose in life is to live lone.

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Filed under Philosophy, Poetry, Thoughts

Gratitude Prayer

I have gratitude for all sentient beings. I accept that life

is consciousness

is suffering

is sonder.

I am grateful to each object that has touched me today

outside of its own dizzy dance

and altered me, however small, through our interactions.

I am grateful to bacteria for expertly maintaining our environment.

I am grateful to the sun for giving us life and to the ozone atmosphere for keeping it.

I am grateful for water in its endless incarnations.

I am grateful for earth and nature and plants for being our covert teachers through the changes and challenges of life.

I am grateful to animals for their pure existence and their abilities to survive without hateful destruction.

I am thankful for people.

Every human with a struggle, every individual without a clue,

every person doing their best with what they have, every bodhisattva learning,

every twinkling particle of God in its own unique expression of our sameness.

I am thankful for the lessons I’ve learned, the struggles I’ve endured, and the challenges ahead of me.

To silence.


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Filed under Inspiration, Poetry, Thoughts

primordial waters

the removal from warmth, children, where we lay buried deep in the muck of our mothers
the clumps of cells,
the spewing and spawning of pestilence
as it congeals about in petrie dishes with hearts
cohesive cultures multiplying into infinity
don’t you yearn to rush fingers to it?
through it?
to break apart the crumbling human kind
ashes to igneous
dust to the deep
Earth’s innermost chambers where stone goes to sleep
those primordial waters
wherein life we keep

I once heard a pebble cry for heaven
too heavy to float,
he was crushed and disintegrated into
the rising and falling of swells
caught in tumultuous God
expelled into oceans of crackling magma
his particles smeared like ash across my mother’s thumb
the guru pulled him in again until her stomach grew
and the parts of him that I shared, and water, his sister, too
ascended heaven, bent in brethren
and fell again as dew

have you churned prayers
which sprinkle away as ash in winding breath
and felt each feather blacken your coat as it melted away?
your sickness is tucked up on the mantle
where a fire heats it below,
bellowing unto it in seductive whispers:
“multiply. be more. overflow upon this house, this corpse”
And I’m deciding if I should know or forget.

Recall your commons
the commuting hemoglobin, burning scarlet with passion for oxygen
asphyxiated on sea shell sounds
going round and round
your dying makes no sound

(and your ears forgive their pound
but you’ve sunk into primordial waters
ashes to amniotic)

and your cells do not beat drums
but they are the drums and the mallets
a tongue satiating its own pallet
I stroke my own wrist
because my nakedness won’t bear it
eyes lock onto eyes, for diverting will scare it
the charms on your arms are the shackles that bind you
closing my eyes so their devises won’t mind you

I stare down water from my perch and cease to see it
I stare at water long enough and seem to be it

I know who I am when your laugh rifles through me

sound off like a shot gun
and explode into me

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Hey Stella!


The princess whisking herself back into the clutches of the dragon.

She catches her own skirt on the turrets of the castles she’s climbed over,

only to give up at the sight of the sunrise,

climbing back down into the dungeons of the castle,

curling into the warm claw of the beast’s hand,

because it shed a single tear when it realized it had nothing more to protect.

The prince is outside waiting on his steed,

and I’m telling him to leave me alone –

Come back next week.

Come back when I can get over the wall,

it’s too difficult now, and I’ve grown tired.

I’ll need the rejuvenating bite of the wolf in my side before I have the death I need to walk through the gate.

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Fairytale Fucks

Lip-lickin’ hot honey off a ribcage comb

the sound comes at me like a hot faucet, full

blast, then cuts.

Barbie chapstick pink like squishy and smack

the lids flit above eyes

that gloss up round the back

knead my skin, need my hold

grind galloping sea sail frolicking into the undertoe.

Steed, ride me,

knight knit in nightime

find me fluttering up from lifting eyelashes

bite your lip, I bite it for you

a hip slip implores you

to composure after sweet-brief exposure

unfold me, book bindings

light shines out from the findings

an index finger dive in

parting me down the hot spot,

down the prickle and pins

I’m pulsing needle piercings

pure pleasure pulls in

pierced and pardoned,

the princess departed,

and bitch wicked nightmares

pierce dreams

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Filed under Poetry