Something New....Someday

North and Rambling. Finding fragment of mollusks left over from the days of the deluge. Snail shells scattered like seashells, crisp and white in the dirt. Spring has awakened the earth, and she bats her eyelashes Fresh in the form of Parsley and Pine, Cliff Rose and Clover. There is such a stillness and spirit to voice such a song. It slips through the trees as ephemeral light and rain, covering the leaves. An animistic spirit, And a spark of freedom, fragmented and fallen Crashing like entropic waves over my face. Southward in a desert autumn, Passing through the Ponderosa and Pinion. I am held between the fingers of this blooming mesa. Sipping on an herbal brew of Ephedra, Juniper berries, and Sage. Bitter Tea, Astringent and Stimulating The colorful tastes of the painted desert. A Cattle carcass erects a cage. Picked clean by Vultures, Ravens, and Magpies. Housing Prickly Pear, Yucca, and Barrel cactus in a morbid desert garden bed. Waking up to the li...

The wind brings the water, Brings earth into soil. birthing life from the womb Love's a chore And life's a chore And a meditation on longing The wind brings the water, earth's transubstantiation of fruit reforming back to the body of god What are now many drops of rain Were once a unified cloud. Once a bottomless ocean. Even now, as I sleep in the deep currents, I remember the many drops of rain it took to get me here.

Some people have dream jobs, And Dream cars But I just want my dreams at night. Some people have crazy dreams, And some people have lovely dreams. Dreams of passion and dreams of getting out. I just day dream, and think of leaving. I Dream of having that one woman that completes me and the daughter that is created from us. Because my dream is passion, and my dreams are about the rains that fertilize the earth we walk on. My dreams are about the death of the individual. Their skin devoured by bugs and their bones petrifying under pressure. My dreams are silent like the lifted veil of a bride, whispering “I Do” My dreams still lay dormant and asleep. In my dreams I’m not quite awake. Some people dream of a house with a white picket fence. I Dream of the freedoms of the river current and longing.

It's not easy to live, Between the glitter and the grey, Between the quiet space of stars and sky, And to love as the waxing moon, with a heart half full. Lightning strikes from the soul. And a noise bellows forth from the horizon. Forged from an ancient silence. I've heard its song since I was a child. A declaration of love And a war on the qualities of mankind. From that majestic mountain ether I hear the voice of my mother. Not the one I was born from, But perhaps a previous incarnation, Another life. As I lift my gaze skyward Like the face of a blooming flower, I find this concept of eternity Engaging me in its light. We lock eyes like two lovers And yearn for one another, Connected as star-crossed companions Until the day I die. My body is but a fragment A spirit vessel, stagnant We are dreamt into this existence With loneliness at our side. To live is to build upon the dying and the dead Making their bones our homes And their blood our ...

Each Dream comes Like a whisper in the night, Arriving like a ghost creeping through my sleep, Becoming my body. Each Dream is more beautiful than the dream before My lovers come into my dreams and present their hearts. Each new heart is sewn upon my own, Stitched in sleep as we lie entangled. When I dream, I dream of love and my heart grows Like a tumor, endlessly emerging in silence. An unfolding blossom I drape it over my body I let it consume me, I let it cover me I let it keep me whole and sew it shut to sleep between the petals of the dream.

A body My body A body Mine To own And to feel To hurt and to heal To feed and to clothe To love and to loathe A body My body A body Mine To touch and to hold To grow till I'm old To dream in this life To sleep in the night A body My body Mine

'Do you believe in God?' she asked me. I don't believe in anything. but, I know what I've experianced. I've seen a spirit that moves through all things that connects us all. I've seen entities that some call angels, others call demons and even gods. Yet, I also have seen their limitations, they can only rule over you if you allow them too. I have seen the shackles and chains that we forage to bind us to these spirits. I have seen that we've worked them loose enough to escape their grasp any moment we wish. Ive seen the devotion that feeds them still more powerful. The spirit that moves through all, That binds us together, Does not bind us to itself, because we are all within it's precious embrace. It is within us all and this makes us free because it makes us whole. This Spirit is love and it generates from without and within.

There is such beauty in the darkness. Even dreams come at night, with eyes closed. The obscuring chiaroscuro shadows, like the depths of a well, ever fluid, Swimming in dark. The muses live in the crevices of our veins. Bringing to life the caverns of our hearts that are filled with raging leviathans, like fallen drops of obsidian. These metallic crystal tears, micro to macro, affixed to the blackness of space. Even stars come out of the bleakest sky. Even the sun shines out of the coldest part of the morning. Even snow can fall upon the burned remains of a fire licked forest. These are sovereign melodies, Low tones in the deepest of ocean blue. This is a black hole, Closing like a wilted flower in the moonlight. Every night has its end, and every star is overcome by a more brilliant sun. And always, light shines through the darkness in the opening of an eye.

I'm crying against the brick wall, by the aspen trees we used to sit between, within the spring time of our love. Cracked mortar scatters the floor and reflects crystalline pure. In the glow of refracted light, my tears hit and fall Pressing into kaleidoscopic mirrors. We have breached passed the summer and we watch our love fade like the colors of the leaves in the autumn air. I just can't breathe the way I used to. I would like to dig a hole and crawl in. sinking into this new womb digging into my skin. The dirt could find a temporary home in my pores. I would like to use that warmth to keep my cold heart beating. The home that I've dwelt, is cracked and torn the bed that I've slept, is tattered and worn It's a shell that I'll shed It is not my true form. I sit by the river where we used to stay. Now the worms have gone to sleep, and the ground is so cold. the silt has fallen to reveal the bottom of the bed. This is our bed now....