Sunday, August 24, 2014


cut from the coldest slivers of silver
gold from the guts of the mines of the mountain
stones that are smooth from the turning of tides
i have arrived, i have arrived

Wednesday, August 20, 2014


i have seen the wind 
blur all i've ever known 
til i was reborn 
painted new colors 
sketched on this great stone 
i have taken pictures 
seas of feeling 
keeling over 
sweeping strides of red 
words better unsaid 
knives bitter on skin  
walls punched in 
but kind words broke me open 
weeds were growing inside 
where green gardens once were 
lush in their young growth 
the stuff that sways at sunset 
and when you began to carve 
compose new notes in these scars 
i began to find gates 
in this hideous maze
escape into you through fern decay 
moss on stones always beneath me 
mosaics placed so perfectly
i have unraveled suddenly