11.4.18

what keeps
you alive
but the
taste of
my skin

an evenings coloring
a nightly shade

a study of the past

a hint at what was
and will never be

what keeps
you from breathing
but the
scent of
honeysuckle
on my lips

a fresh blossom
an opening; longing

a bare back in the breeze

an omen of what is
and will remain
a secret;
hereafter
endless

HS

4.4.18

In the days past
the ships came effortlessly
docking with the tide
you became a tendency at sunset
a song concealed each time
captivated on
a gaze
held within
i have kept this in hand; myself
wistfully
singing instead

and yet
the last time I saw the sky
my eyes broke like shooting stars
hitting the face of your palms
and the last time I saw you
my soul knew that you would always
be enough
as my only
my only one

HS
on my breasts
lies an imprint
of the names
given by god
coppered faces
aged by ambition
an inclination of love
bent upon weakness
a victory of performance
an exploited triumph

*

on my belly
i stay ahold
afloat for
only a moment
more


HS

3.4.18

a split moment - refrain
hovering with the melody
an air you can hear
her breathe
wider than lungs - turned on
found themselves
for a moment in depth - prayer
a lifetime agreed upon - with regret

*

the fall of wishes
ignitions
apparent indifference
barefaced
in intent
meets
the
look
of
candid
shame

1.4.18

love, you have found me at my furthest

at a time when my heart had not aligned

where the grass grows thicker

than the lines on your chest

when the stillness of your breath

had never come to exist


love, I would place my heart next to yours

had I, the slightest brilliance


HS

30.3.18

More than a dozen
recollections
collecting at
the fingertips
of the secular spectator
detecting schemes
between sheets.

This is sin,
the plain and unadultered
scholarly pursuit thereof.

HS
What shall we do with a weight of absence
a hearing hung within us like a crystal
clear enrapturing; calling forth questioning
if you are so passionate as you say
and as I dare but not believe it so
this cannot last as long underneath
with spurs and roots braiding the light
bowing your neck my own age-old owl eyes soul
silvery at dusk my white branches
blossoming; withering forth
ruins of harmonizing
created equally
how so ever apparent
i would as soon forget
i am in this myself
a concealment of here and here-in
as you lay waking on each fifteenth evening
for I have feet that slip out of shoes
ankles that spiral my neck blue
a fearful little rebel
like the multitude in your kingdom who seek the way ahead
where the fire is kept cold
behind my eyes tilted mirrors sing forth
where birds can rise from the roof of my mouth
where it is past repair
as it has been kept invisible it does not touch the
bumbling it requires
a bungling amateurish blundering
crispness floundering
asking for a pulse
a practice you can run your tongue over
this loosened lily splintering its thistle spine
astonishing how pleasure keeps us singing like we're high
even as I overlay illusory
awake in every motive
murmuring there just there it goes
gone sprawling
gold glistening all its weight lit up to become enough
as only one.

HS
i captured his appetite
tasted it
and regardless of the
demands
i wont give it back
until we are full

HS

24.2.18

you tremble
under the belief
that there is love somewhere
in these bones
somewhere in this body
lies courage
enough to plant fields
of disposition
of buttercups
of anticipation
for the holiness that 
you once thought 
was holier than you
could be found 
devoted
beneath
the pull
her roots

HS

23.2.18

i bathe in your every expression
devour
your salted words
and adorn my hips
in your mounted position

so
please
carry me to shore
where I can
inscribe the sands
and run my hands
down
where we belong

HS
blackened hair
thickened by the waves
my tongue creates
in streams a
heartfelt grin
curious about the secrets
underpinned

incompatible, i know
out of sorts admirer

why'd you come so close
only to fall away once again

HS
flood my seas

my currents; surge

swell my peaks

my banks; crest

the movement
of you
always
seems
to

uprise my tide

HS
In this scene you crawl like a spider trying to catch the wind
snow perplexes a blue sky
while branches shake from the weight of it
your sense of direction is abandoned
into the once puzzling provincialism
to exhibit resonanting partially
they only cover their mistakes
by swimming even more seductively toward you
you become the subtlest of superfluous
as your daily thought and feeling grow fleeting
and infinitely self-perpetuating and impossibly more resilient
ready to alight on steepled sand in lamplight
even though you live by the sea
you no longer dream of fragile roads
on islands of mythical syntaxes
you still climb two sets of stairs but have blurred them
if anything goes amiss you resort to the simple design
of standing in bright light unthreading far flung ideas
until the letters run from your skin
Sometimes they feel like separate grains of sand
of clouds pulled to earth sifting to the center
blending peacefully finally in their own relation
while along some horizons light shines from distant hills dreamt
along others this or that mythic shell complicit with their desire
thinks to wear a mask soaked in the rays of their eyes
of scattering uncanny fingerprints to unreal skirmishes
clearing the way for a more or less ruthless actual history
of misunderstanding these lands that climb upwards with the smoke
from the result of an instant sending signals how a new story
and its recipients bend each others bodies off the ground
outside the book bathed in blind light and love
new hands at all hours pages turning at all hours
upending your whisper rhythmic and turning forth
behind the breeze on your ear on your throat
an unworked mass of visionaries
bent back slowly like a sapling filled heavy with faith
kneeling only where faces find comfort
in the wall that unhinges impassioned where wisdom stirs
you can surrender devoted to the ritual
or you can integrate this fire and become a vital sorcerer; unknown

HS

16.2.18

he would have carried me in color; dead or alive
his abstract awareness has seized its significance
the high waves shattering the windows of my palace
yet we speak no thoughts
left by a silence
by the blue echo of intimacy lost
the light
inscribed to study the back of his eyes
which have commanded
I am the sole delegate of my form
the embodiment individualized
vanishing is both sensual and continual

*

I found the sea
casting my structure
rising elegantly
waveless as it speaks

HS

15.2.18

how many times
have you found me
casing your walls
of protection

if you counted by tens
it would amount
to the totality
of deaths
under these hands

HS

9.1.18

an appearance of spirit and a glass of fire
illusion flashing
lingering
devilry in my reflection
an atmospheric emergence
flood of breath
glancing over
in the midst of knowing
measuring the depth
of your lure

a short-lived memory

i once knew a man with the stars sung onto his soul
galloping fathomless
where core became soul
a magician
he recollected the times
form had failed

therefore
i spoke in silence
inquisitive

*

don't wait too long
you can embark on
for the love here lies
with another kind

HS

4.1.18

it wasn't so much a beginning
as it was an ending

the convergence
butterflies landing
shapeshifting conception
charmer
diviner
bewitch her
watch the wild sorcerer rise
watch the stone women dance
witness the birth of a God

all in a nights time

HS

1.1.18

Dear ______,
I have been watching from a distance. Staying slight for quite a while; yet still the ravishment came. The euphoria. Of observing you.
And now there is a hole in the middle of desire.
(the body)(the form)(the shaft)(the shape)
The subconscious will remind us. Survey what the room sees. A whisper. The minds eye.
Where was your face on this nightly coloring;
I was myself, to join what had been separate.
To translate without stimulating; a layer, a grassy green.
You've now created me into backwards light. The sound of your displays are like breathless grasps.
You've become the stone in my left hand. A kindred mind with mine. Nameless.
Yet. I still don't know who we are
But the two; undiscovered
unsung.
The sea also has no idea, having lavished itself on diamonds, repeatedly asking.
Who put us here?
Who put us here with this conviction?
So this morning I looked to the sky; the sky looked down.
The wind whispered from the vault of the heavens
He is in rapture with his view.
And when he was a child you were the rain
He and absolute were all of eternity
Fragrant spaces; Mind among mine
Pure enchantment.

The birds knew; and the clouds too
I have been dreaming far too near.

HS

31.12.17

there are many times
i would have liked to say i love you
yet the world keeps going
and i can not
Continue

what stops me
but my own stumbling
of being ashamed
as I am nothing
more than a mere reason
Placed
at your feet

HS

29.12.17

i've gathered my beloved
affairs; in unorthodox direction
magicians; my knees
djinn following closely
lovers
ripe with pomegranates
hold my stars
while I take another bite
of his delectable sword

HS

In the rose garden
where I drink my tea
the plants sing
the sky creates streams
light cast shadow
darkness never misses a beet

HS

19.11.17

love
your heart 
breathes 
in the spirit 
of duality
where distance 
lives unhinged 
the compass 
stretches 
this summit
there is
no barrier 
between where 
you and I 
bend

love 
my back bone is in 
the contours 
of your name

where
your relics 
are found 
the small of my neck
you are the essence 
my core
the marrow
my bones
you have cultivated 
this landscape
the
vital force

you will 
always be
the sea of flames 
in every torch


love
you are initiated 
into the recesses 
of my spirit
my heart
I uncover you
veiled to all
let unbeknownst 
to thyself


you; the being 
my secret
one

12.11.17

you have bound my heart 
with needles from each and every cedar
masquerading the mountain skies
with I along side; rather than
these sterlings 
who dissolve in their own aching
you remain at a distance
the trees in tribulation
the lullaby of the kings
choir descended
as you derive
from my heart
there is nothing greater
let alone destined
than the lush
budding
fertile 
being
that lies right 
beneath you
that which surrounds
what has been found
lingers in my nails
in the fluttering of my skin
you remain a melody
the rings woven
within

HS

28.10.17

clouds burst
heavy dew
wetness
on my lips

liquid sunshine
fall mist
condensation
on my chest

HS

i can taste 
the moon
cold crater 
of you



HS

23.10.17

At dusk I can see myself alive
In your pupils
Floating inside the blue bands
The little piece of sky you keep hidden
As I take in your skin...your neck
Smells like the moisture on a dirt floor
After you carry the embers of this city
Under my covers
I unravel into a thousand honest pieces
Watching you come towards me
because your nights climb my spine
and this bed is too big
For the rope that we wind



HS

16.10.17

with my head in the ground
i listen to the
movement; the dark 
i need my conscious
to feel the way you lie  
beside me 
recessed by waves
(grey)
bound by glass 
(stone)
dignity  
i am the sea
capable of leaving
and instead choosing 
to be 

our breath of a gem
unmentionable
sweetened 
delicacies 

closely 
i mind you
in the obscurity of protection 
i see the lover on your knees
i see the nectar hidden in your cheeks
i see the placement of your eyelids
that keep me safely
in positions reach  

arched 
hold me 
in the sky
heavens made of reason
undeniable
your aim  
   elegance is in the weak   


*  

your footing
captured 
my eyes
intwined
the tie between us
entangled
fastened to the other 
under obligation
of nothing
neither of us

resolve 
take
another
look
  
this will 
not become
until
you and me
catch each other
come further near
place yourself
within 
my nature 


*

HS 

8.10.17

i have learned to piece debris from whatever washes ashore to build driftwood and rocks into intricate gardens there are times i cry and sink roots although keeping my eyes close i am pragmatic and adept sacrificing that which rubs to snip away at these tangled love knots where new growth can flourish stretching from old scars i am surprised by the volunteer who suddenly appeared disrupting my orderly planting bed blooming his heart out

HS

5.10.17

in my left hand lies the gift of life. beating.

4.10.17


when you look at me

stars erupt 
wind blown
a kingdom is built
larks frame 
mountains sway
shiver
tremor
stagger
heart batter

 be still. be calm.


HS

22.9.17

i speak once of steeping feet in the seven seas
of illuminating them there to oceanid him
to create sheets of white luminous
so that these bodies will become edible
submerged in effervescent brilliance
make it so and skin turns a new
softening as you seep slowly in
as my cells remember i forgive
so that we now immerse ourselves
apathy has nowhere else to sit
it will never requiem he repeats
though he still doesnt know
i often hear the same declaration
reversing in anothers simplicity
to luminescence my light...mirrored
as always breathing in his glare
i find my love transitioning clouds
waist deep in his inane
i vanish across blue fields
meandering the world
straying on the limniads edge
returning some times in time
for a door aching wide in the sky
and the moon setting free
played perfectly
in the neighbours tree
suddenly remembering
just how it all could be

8.9.17

My father walked me down to las posadas one calm winter night.
The fog was thick
And unable to see the stars
I quietly followed in.
Out of the duskiness
Appeared the familar
White lace shoulders and
Flickering lights.
Hands cusped in between ribs
Black hair settled on their backs
Tightly woven in a knot.
I remember the connection to our mother
Was stronger there than anywhere I had ever felt.
La Nuestra Senoras eyes gazed deeply all around
Against the dark nights
Their soft smiles
Gracious and enchanting
Hearty hearts of steel
I knew these people as
Warm
Willing
Weathered
By the storms of being dissipated
Blown into the winds of terror
A false divergence that made them illuminate ablaze
In contrast to the conservation of whiteness.

My grandmothers neighbor would come by
with a bag of tamales every so often.
Mass was held in the backyard
And I'd sit under the orange tree so that I could hear them speak in languages formed out of feelings
Sometimes they'd weep
Hold each others hands
in the lap of the other
Head draped on the families shoulder
There was a willingness
to carry the others heart
down to the river
and let it go.
Knowing that the same love
will always be carried within.
Even when we have lost sight of one another.

Snake skin and oiled hands
Chicano. Dark lips.
Chipped paint.
Earth scent ingrained.
Rough around the eyes
I can still see her in each and every
Holy One I continue by.

Ella siempre sera mi luz en la oscuridad.

HS

1.9.17

I once heard a story of a girl who found her heart was placed so far from where she had left it. It seemed as though it had been picked up and carried to the farthest reaches of this earth where no one not just anyone would ever come across it. Here she was called following the eyes of someone elses light. Someone she could not reach. And here she found her heart in the hands of an undeniable belief.

29.8.17

 to the girl that welds in amber

 you are a love to be reckoned with
 a heart saturated with outspoken desires

 moonstruck

 on a belief of remembrance
 conceived in the coals
 validated by your ubiquity
 distributing itself
 here...
 and there

 broken up like a dream that was meant to be lived

 every moment has been marked by you

 every moment
 harnessed

 in the air
 you hear her breathe

 take a step forward

 you feel her
 winded

 death stays close
 while she sympathizes with the devil
 the way the world melts around her
 they bend into another
 his muscles still soften
 as she carries herself
 gracefully tied up in knots

 ***

 secured with luster
 reduced to embers
 set in fire

 continuously
 radiant
 midpoint

 eternally
 transmitting her story
 in the palm of my hand
I found your heart on the sidewalk early this morning
Dripping in the sweetest dew
I could not contain my excitement
For what a treasure to encompass
My own pleasure with


HS

15.1.08

These things possible to have been said
I've uncurled in a swallowed sound
as I am of you and slightly the other

my name follows the shadow of yours
meanwhile she
catches shade in a valley of bees

we are meant to move forward without each other
but lacking little light i turn and hide

you have worn many names and faces, sir
to say you are undisciplined is a love of lies
your expectation wavers with the sky turning
what they all worked hard for stops

night mountains, a sharp silence

no longer a child
orphan, stoic, doctor, sir

firstborn
first abroad
first lost

as a child, he spoke as a child

abba
aboji

distance is relative, hinged
joints bend where other spaces would break
forced into a posture
object
stars move slowly across his face

this is now something recognized in my eyes

I am to say
who was but until the present never could be

I see and hear everything
I see and hear you

speak as simply as you can
without fire these words nearly sleep
the distance between

a shade platform
a hindered announcement
faces fanning in the heat

louder than the eyes having it
louder than the deer giving up its secrets on the tree

quietly we crawl under our covers
the house stands still after hours of unrest
delicate as folding screens these turns burn our faces

we will hear and we will see but we will not speak

broad light of day is a hard release
dark ambient mover
destiny holds swirling gates ajar
swallowed in the thousand flight
sun walkers collecting miracle sound engines a storm

lacking necessary endings
mystery transforms night into illusion
familiar object outland delivers

sight objects unearthing sound


na
nabi
nun
white
what lies


lost as a child
I spoke
sighted in the scrim and flash...
I sway

--?

25.10.07

love child
retracing the steps to an intersection without a stop sign, waiting.
hidden fated past in the face the mirror casts, history likes to repeat itself.
back on the block to remember names and connections.
distances away, I remember gaps. arriving in a black cloud of delay and
indifference; the smoke clears.
family makes me resemble the redemption of their last memory.
history is made up of someones memories. people remember what they want.
the lines of life whine in their strife while the heart creates an oasis
of old things, collected for rainy days and the memory generates.
I knew myself before I spoke of the good times. the disconnected chords of
past didnt prevent a present from becoming a past.
whether its memoir or lineage, the old days are mysterious
occurrences that evolve into a sense of completion for my missing reason.
what follows me is the perpetual light of my shadow.
I come out like an essence, sometimes a simile of what others remember in others before me;
some sense of familiarity carries on the memories that comfort whats forgotten to
take me into the next moment and so on.
birth alone isnt a part of me, but its the extension of the tree,
I have never seen, will always search for; that's life.
I find myself here and wonder how much do I
need to know in order to know why and does it matter. my
destination isnt known, but the
fare is now due.

26.9.07

Is this life the tune of his human hands shake
as they play out the rhythms on his shoulders
in a refrain that comes to nothing more
than the drumming of grand architecture
to the straight on stare of strangers and friends
which melt our story with what now becomes
a man that is buried from within
by the sweet tremble of his hands excused
in order to show his capacity
to feel beyond the present.

For continuum weighs sympathy.

There is no deviation in the baring of these days
that calm this man to the descent of what I so desire.

13.8.07

i.
Heading south people change and it seems, by degrees
imperceptible over decades. In this place
the small 'i' looks into flight theory
for a bird out of season. Life as a rule
consists of evidence, the gentle breeze
or the gale force, it leans on faith
towards chance with the family,
the friends & the lovers you take
a shine to. A belief that obscene amounts
of change alarms, if the people
you love will change with you.
But the saddest day is the one
where you find youve changed too
much and us not nearly enough.

ii.
Wing stretches the log fire burns, all through
a sleepless stretch of evening.
The small 'i' re-working words
is hemp loose, as ideas fall
with the passions onto paper.
At 4 a.m. body exhausted, walking
outside smoking another.
Plumes tickle and rise in the head,
drift from the hand and the mouth.
Theres a mounting chipper of birds all
about, they rustle and stir in the bush
behind. Drawn closer, no doubt
by the sweet stench that floats
thick, in Kanimblas subzero air.

iii.
Air spirals as its the vertigo and the wind
that gets me, holds me reticent
just one step away from the edge.
From the top of this plateau,
its a sheer drop into silence and
the cavernous mystery beneath.
The valley is fluted in layers of mist,
a scene stealer for the tourist and
the small 'i' alone on the stone
ledge of so vast an expanse.
Catching wits and breath,
I recall a friend having said that
a mountaineer once
saw god on K2s summit.

iv.
Weightless flight theres experience in that possibility,
in that solitary view of the infinite.
Precipitation clears from the valley
as birds and bird song wing
through the sunfiltered clouds.
And just beyond the falls
two iridescent rainbows form
the perfect tricolour arcs.
The sky is winter blue and enormous.
The small 'i' subdued, watches day
pass and the sun shine on the valley.
Considers how easy the choice
to take one step out and glide
weightless on air currents.

v.
Tail feathers and vegetation grow lush all the way
down through the pathway.
The legs winds the slim web of road
until it flattens out into brush country.
Horses graze close to the Tea Rooms
where theres hot food and a fire.
This valley less up close
less imposing than the view
from the top plateau suggests.
On the way back up echoes
of parrots and lyre.
The weather ominous as feathers
float with the snowfall when birds
lift from the trees and are gone.


vi.
Skyways in the old adobe home fire
warms flesh while the heart
beats slow and the small 'i' wonders
'where exactly in this anatomy
do wings fit?' In the cerebellum,
which itself feels nothing
synapses spark and push
memorys sharp edges
into tissue of the heart
or the head with no reply.
It makes no difference, what
the small 'i' decides - as just
because they can, birds will
stretch out their wings and fly.

--
what can
unsteady a person
bring her falling
into the deepest sky?
she swims
inside dreaming
lets go
of possibility
makes dizzy the first
bone-dry second
then blue surrounds…

*

her eyes let go
of every surface
resemble
every weather
she is everywhere

7.8.07

We will change the music for you. It will look like a field of buttercups, and sound like dinnertime.

29.7.07

a six-inch patch of life redemption

19.7.07

Si lo que has encontrado
Fue formado por materia pura
Nunca se pudrirá
Y tu puedes volver un día
Si fue solo un momento de luz
Como la explosión de una estrella
No encontraras nada cuando regreses
Pero habrás visto una explosión de luz.
Y esto solo ya habrá valido la pena
PC
quiver beneath
thirty four fingers
in-others entering
through-an excuse
for constant-
delusion

HS

there may be dedications
determined by the disciplined music
of a thousand looms
but what kind of day means
another melodious shift
ive been training my left arm to glimmer
and am already accustomed
to the heat of the forge
yet as for flames i head in all directions
of yellow turning
orange turning
away my gaze
and the watery foundations.

but love,
if you were a globe,
i could place a finger
match equator to longitude
then gather the topography
into a fistful of embers.

you might have brought the other motion with you
maybe you did draw three broad Xs across our earth
and i might have touched fingertip to fingertip
climbed the hill and surprised the city
but now
the junction exists
in the field until.
Language is the place of the mind
as Space is the place of the body.

Hair dripping, as it were, south, while the ice-blue
inside of your mouth hisses letters through the rain.

To speak is to desire. So the gods judge.

The heart, an organ of fire. my fruit.
The soul, nail-bed as my gift.

17.7.07

mothers , seeds , gods



what do you wish for?
the heart leaps the heart opens the heart
closes the heart grieves

it becomes it sinks
into your palm it believes
I have sweetened you with my tongue flower
acacia blossoms this time three
foot snow this mild
spring winter

when I dream of men it is always you
no longer

does it mean I'll wake
up making poppies in a crush of white
its pure

us loving in our barely there
adult twin bodies blue and dark

delight in our delight
buds blazing
but when I dream of women it is always I

delighting to delight

15.7.07

i wonder if im losing who i am with each word i speak as another one known as her

7.7.07

No me juzguen si me gusta el vino
si me gusta el fuego
cuando está despierto

No me juzguen porque duermo
con una lechuza
y la ventana
de par en par
abierta.
No se preocupen si un día
voy de viaje
dentro de mi misma—
granos de arroz
me traerán de vuelta.

Y no me juzguen
si amanezeco
despacio
despedirme de suennos
toma mucho tiempo.

27.6.07

Are the flowers youve brought to the surface to wake me?
Are they heavenly flowers?
Are they an excess of petals, an oblivious turn to abundance, the ground of the flower itself?

Is the aspect of sweetness compressed into a sea-water breath, as one would bring air to the surface?

Would I feel a flower so similar to aberrations of color descending to roses?

As I would so love to be restored from my likeness to what would parallel instead.
His kiss is just a whisper passed through the salvos juxtaposed with sacredness albeit sans configuro repealants morphity ping prongless saturelment acre-ease my chinstrap en route to grass courts, my glass skirt challenging the light of gravitys hospitable brick fossil path.

Play the oceanic form of cradle in amazed left-justified machine inclusive of slip covers and Jurassic lullabilia. So many prose glyphs numen their way sofaward. Until collaborative safety moans into unwanted facial hair of someone salty in the month of Junes apres-midi continually lurking east of nest points in the fois gras of contagious dithers who becomes important to have touched within the tone row bylines of an apple aimed at teachers desktops scattered through the temporary building.

The earth is yours & everything thats in it.

25.6.07

Deepness is a metaphor belonging to those who beckon all they seek into the vicinity of the imagination. A flower from the theatre. A passionate rural howl. Controversy with style. Ignorance of sleep as if being awake had somehow more virtue. In reality, there are those who see the deep and the shallow as part of the same view. Landscape is perspective. Insight has your dimensions.

21.4.07

Conjured spoken there is when this place is a blaze
The arc of the dancer speaks to the remembering one
With you there is open visibility to the wind
There is no justice if there cant be peace
& there is always peace
The wind it speaks in triangles
Speaks in circles and squares
In the wind there is a presence of dark & the light of Ma
Of war of justice of peace
In the wind there are the particles of life
That make up the particles of breath
Of death of green and blue & spirit & fruit & moon
Of trail & entrails of trials of holocaust & ceremony
Of silence between the silences of noise within the noise

In the Wind there is a presence
An unseen force that unites us to the earth
An unheard force that unites us to the trees
An unforced presence that unites us to the clouds

In the mouth there is the understanding of tongues
A pastoral untangling
In my breath there is the wind that binds us to the sky
That brings us toward the storm
That wraps us in its eye
That levels us to the ground
& makes us beholden
& humbled
& held in its presence

in the wind there is darkness & light

& particles of man and beast and breath and death and justice and joy

The great mystery
Jaya sleeps inside me
My identity becomes a web of cherry blossoms
Sing oh sound oh speculation
Sing oh nights untiring tune

Its when the one without the hop becomes an outsider
The one without the vision is crazy
Its when the one without guidance is no longer a communicator
When the one who hears clear is called blind
Its when those who exist in everything are considered the simple
And those who run far are simply blossoming
Its when then that we know we all know
Its then that we know we must change

We all feel together that the healing has begun
We all feel together that the this can be overcome
We begin to feel what this is all about
This phenomenal this the place that we come from

Jaya still sleeps inside me

There is this box called paradise with one bright star locked deep within it
There is the labyrinthine skyline zigzagged w/lines of entangled sky
There is this dark light this cold burning sunset
All these who wanna be interlaced
All these mornings elaborate within a pound of grey matter
And this yawning spider sings to turn away

In the wind there is a presence a knowledge to deep to be spoken
Magic and even in my dreams clouds that have every reason
We are our reason
It is not the first time dream catcher

You can spend a lifetime in riding the waves
Spend moments here and feel like youre at home

The wind winds thru me picking up pieces of us and joining us to all others
The moon shifts inside me spoken onward and I understand
The wind picks up the moon one too many mornings I fell
Old scra only as the circle
is where the line will be drawn
when with the dusk
we meet the dawn

do fish sing?
connection of bone to flesh
Rejoicing the music
connection of bone to flesh

in the wind there is a presence roots paths owl eyes

tasting and smelling and hearing and seeing

this is talk of equality...as i follow winding you say hello

Mysteries cannot be proven is love truly enough?
Magic is not localized
Language is not singular

Jaya sleeps inside me In the wind
There is a presence sheltered by every human, every someday, every lily or elephant / do fish sing?

Do fish sing?
Connection of bone to flesh

The oldest tree
Laughed when I asked
Shake with it
Sing to it
With it
You are a very old tree
A rain travels through you
Low cold high heat a wind
The effect of the sacred upon the sacred

We are the receivers
Thru us the total is realized & released
We are the channels
We teach each other and ourselves
We learn from all

Remembering jaya sleeps inside me &
I can speak to something other than the moon

The wind in the wind there is a presence
I go blindly into the wind

The sky is blue concrete
We arrive whole bodies into the prism
Embodied within the origin
Turning into mirrors of water
Facing a lavishing sun
Man
Created within the abundance of colors
Though nothing is without color
Like nothingness itself
In glorious gold & silver
We rejoice in the hands

A connection of flesh to bone

He realized he was his body
And that his body carried him
He realized he was his body
And his body was carried by him
These are created
By the candles in the dark
When the colors show on
a passing afternoon

Freedom jaya sleeps inside me
I plunge into myself and awaken heaven

I dare to believe
light LIGHT
As I am
I am light
We arrive in the light whole bodies
Angels arrive by the river
A river of angels arrive
Light I will always be light
As for in the wind there is a presence
Sleeping soundly inside me
As we all dream of this light

I dream amongst the blues & pinks the earth-encrusted browns & pale yellows
I live in light every day
There is never an absence of light
Never an absence of darkness either
Do not be misled by the moon
Do not be misled by your reflection
Who do you see in the mirror?
Who do you greet today?

Color is a glass eye an eye in a glass in a wooden box a black box with a star in it
Color is tea for two a universal magic an apple as it ripens
An incandescent voyeur a decadent drunk
A gentleman a woman of circumstance a space between the bars
The seasons blending into each other
In the wind there is a presence
A spectrum
A soul
Where sand turns to glass
A color that sings of its birthright
As the connection of truth or question

19.4.07

In facing
the face faces us
we see light and
in light a sea
of particulars a face
we see bodies forth
open and opaque
it calls us
ourselves

we forego
in the realm of
sensuous there is not
a first experience of
ego its image apogee

every face his face
only I see he
defys his pleasure
he alarms he divides
he can neither partake
nor participate

My response
resound with redundancy
In facing the face
pain in your pain
forego ego Be
a - cross threshold
Echo Be Echo
What I will give you
since you asked
lilies wild
midst seas of grass
shining lights all your days
This is what
I give,
what I ask of you
is nothing
I am blessed
by the smallest...
of lifes attentions.

16.4.07

Ring
Hugged gravity of the gibbous
this perfect circle a chipped white plate
its center pale reached the compass leg
enscribing silvery thought red to violet
surrounding bow. How is the world
broken turning in stillness not our moon?

Rising
So large...the tide roiling the sea-wound
and broil like a dream afraid our moon
near. A pale basket being hauled
into the sky beginning a separation
the amazed heart swelling a redness
failing in the west our breath caught up.

Full
What I carry with me from the North
fallen into a glittering field
of sea the waters many small instincts
the timid openings of memory.
Whatever I was, whoever you
are, dolor of luna origins
all around us this stripping off this
pallor as we step out of our names...

1.4.07

adamant and beautiful
with worlds sleeping in our palm
playing in the dark changing into a game
of the day disclosing circle
i fall asleep and wake up
in a land where above
citrus fruit haze rises up the spiral
acceptance of inhaling and exhaling
by the vast water with its mystic bounce
and Im filling up
with every moment
i grasp more and more space
and life in it
throwing the dice i belong
i have love for the same reason
that you are in every raindrop
washing away and rousing silence
in our eyes where several suns are holding
one another with no arms...there...and here
playing in the dark turning into a gala of the light
with you...(always)...with your single breath
as its center.

25.3.07

The space between
the inhale and the
exhale is not so much

a pause as it is a link

a
thread
between

what has been
and
what will be

and that is where
you reside in me

19.3.07

i coalesce
with ease
from breath
to breathing

its sheen
fixes krsna
to speech: a
man can

elevate himself
by his
own mind,
breath to

breathe and
knowing.
benign then
motive

bloods run
thudding
thick & thin
in the waters

deliverance
loves
and
creation

what we shall say
is that,
under sense,
they

cut through the
storms
slipping
clean, away

to the divine
numbering
one to nine
allowing you

to believe
with uniqueness
the way
I remain

18.3.07

A held breath
begins the poem
of our making

and unmaking-nights drifting
between many days. The sea
was calm, its music impossibly

translated. Flames
curl like waves, or was it
that these waves
curl like flames?


*

Travel homeward
seemed to
dream, such a
foreign affair
made no
grace of
misgiving. When
the door
with its
beautiful narrator
shook her head
then proceeded
"Our
other
selves, being similar
but
away,
remain
awake to
the sparks,"
united, then untied.


*

Hello again but in reverse
to the far-flung alarm
of stars through a window.

This sleep whose disheveled night
untunes your island, Shalom.

Silver eyes and hair and
the roaring heavens your definitions of water
pretermit.


*

Impossibly-translated water, I disappear:

Water impossibly translated as "the path
that leads away from itself." What the knight saw
could be implausibly translated as "I study,
I make out your face through my stare."

Even the most imperfectly rendered water
flows downward, widening, wearing away its ground
in the free.


*

Unless patterns pursue themselves like waves,
unless patterns…unless they
pursue themselves….unless
waves…well
sea-light will not be cajoled,

into sufficient distraction
except on condition you explain realism under the temples:
offering to water
wilderness of water
rivers fluctuating in quarter tones
reservoir to be read as temporary relief

and the same assuming your place in the book
of perpetually seeking flow.


*

He eyes her eyes,
starminded.


*

Sleeping ends by melting
itself into dizzy eye-journeys
arousing a seal, light to light.

Begin
comparing abstracts
on pleasure, passing birds
from hand to hand.


*

What one dreams
the other describes:
a mirrored water,
unmade breath.

Mischievous weather
weve been having,
Abounding distances

impossibly translated
on this dry tongue
as the capitol of Misses

16.3.07

This is the Master of heaven, who is like unto Venus and the
moon, and this is the house of Love, which is without bound and
end.

Rumi

15.3.07

sculpture
moon
abyss

sun
bird
star

strangers in a hidden world

14.3.07

I noticed two blue dragonflies hovering, end
to end, above a pond, as if twisting
the iridescence deep into each others
body, abdomens withering, spiraling
into the wing-beaten air. And your voice
comes back to me through the trees, this word
for what we couldn't help but do
to each other -- a thin sigh, unwinding.

13.3.07

12.3.07

Love means you breathe in two countries
what if you were able
to know what I have felt
when powered by the way
we are made
I have felt all of my body
its excess and its strength
thrive up to the creation of my middle
spine steepling to bring me closer
to the speed of gravity
to share that
with you
would be a divine relation
Oxygen feeds a flame
I invite you to breathe this way

7.3.07

Your heart is flying, he said
his weight against her chest
It does that, she said
drawing him in

5.3.07


moving over forest gold
i wish you were an owl
gliding slowly into the night
to see you pass the big silver moon
and watch as your wings
swim the current
of our interlaced soul

3.3.07