Thursday, December 17, 2009


Why stars we be
When all is cast?
Mayhap terra
Mayhap indeed
The deed has yet
To be done.

Thursday, October 29, 2009


Memories happen again
Not a year and a day
Not hard to be soft
Strength the eighth card
I feel you in me
I see me in you
Winter is dead?
It is just warming up.

Monday, October 5, 2009

Would It Be So Bad?

Hiding. I'm hiding. You are hiding.
We turn our faces away.
But no way is there to
keep from seeing that
we are all the same.
I am hiding this and you are hiding that.
Yet I know what you are hiding and you know what I am.
What if we relaxed our necks, stopped facing the other way?
What if we saw face forward, head on, what we were all hiding?
Would the world explode?
Or would we all start crying and laughing with the relief?
I fear my fear of fear.
The fear of showing myself,
all the parts of me that I can't see.
If I bore my soul and my body to you,
what would the reaction tell?
Would you back away slowly or come and hug me?
I would like to say I'm going to stop hiding and start showing,
but that is what I cannot promise.
Maybe in the end I will gain the courage
to give you courage the same.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

That Feeling

Dawn slowly shows
The windows yellow
The rocky peak is pink
Orchestral calls of birds

Heavy blankets weigh
Your legs held down
By warmth in midst
Of morning chills

Mist gathers miles above
Gathers and draws more
Clouds reflect the new sun
The old sun, always there

Sunday, July 26, 2009


The sea's eyes
See that white dress
Swirling in the dark waters
Of the bay

The sea's eyes
See the black wood
A hand reaches down

The white, beautiful fabric
Is gone
Gone with that hand
Made with skin
That was blacker than night

As black as the very bottom
of the deepest of the ocean.

Friday, July 3, 2009

Sisters Make Life Worth Smiling

My sister.
I love you.
You are strong, you endure everything that happens and no matter what, you come out stronger.
You always manage to make me burst out laughing with your quick wit, when I'm sad.
You are odd and strange and that goes to show that you are family.
Your emotions are always pure. When you feel anger, you BECOME the anger. When you are excited, you BECOME excitement. And so on.
I love everything about you, sissy.
You are absolutely perfect.
Happy 14th birthday, Kaelee.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009


A moon, a rose, a bundle of sticks for firewood.
These are all one being.
The moon brings light, love, change.
The rose brings sweet scent, food, change.
The bundle brings warmth, potential, change.
A moon, a rose, a bundle of sticks for firewood.
They are three in one.

Thursday, April 23, 2009


Tell them about it.
Forever brooding will change.
Knowing then, no longer now.
You are soon seen.
Don't feign fright.
We know. And you know
That they must.

Friday, April 17, 2009

The Flute of Desire

Lower yourself upon a series of silent flutes. Become what you are not. For if you do, you can see what others truly are. Remain aware of what YOU truly are, or forget. Once you know the truth, Real Truth, you know more than the moon. And then the flutes can finally sing.

Monday, April 13, 2009


"Rub the oil into your hand," says Pahu.
I rub the oil, granted by the red candle, into my hand. Pahu stops me.
"That's enough."

The next day, I find her under the Tree, our meeting place. There is silence, but for the breeze, pushing at the wild grass and the branches of the Tree. I sit a little away from Pahu, my lovely friend.
After a while, the sweet silence is broken by Pahu, as she says, "You've done well. Now it is time for me to train myself, as I've trained you."
We bow and touch cheeks.
She walks down to the sea, stops for just two moments at the shore, and sinks into the sand.

The following day, the dolphins screamed.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Fuzz

Dreams are the part of us.
We need the white, the deep.
Everlasting until....
Ever is the last thing remembered.
Trailing in your wake,
Dreaming lends a new soul.
The mist in your eyes is.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Smek't'kcasey Mango Lane

Casey Mango,
Casey Mango,
Good girl.

Casey Mango,
Casey Mango,
Good girl.

Sugarboogergy Allerina Lane

Uh uh uh uh uh uh,
Ahhh, honey, honey,
uh uh uh uh uh uh,
You are my baby girl,
And you got me lovin' you.

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Because the sky is Grey, I see you more clearly.
I smell your stagnancy when you are moving.
Don't pretend you are not red with regret.
For the things you've forgotten have become brine.
When my eyes spot that trick, you will sigh in relief.
Relief that you have been seen, found out.
No more secrets. I know them all.

Never Forever

The blackness all around us....
The beauties cannot be, nor can the uglies.
It is nothing and everything.
Existence, non-existence ... neither can be sought.
Blackness is perfect and imperfect both.
Blackness is the brightest bright there is not.

Sunday, February 22, 2009

Rock-Ello Baby

The past is a cradle, weeping in the dark.
Burning hairdryer and hints of an un-washable stain.
When a hamper is put under duress, it is better to just smile and wait. The stressor is soon to see the truth, bear no worry on that.

A squire may study, though that makes not his wisdom. He must first face the pain he has begun to adhere to. Only then is he to be able to see the brilliance of the dark red blood.
Soon the past will become the future and we will not forget it.

Friday, February 20, 2009

The Brown Oxide of Winter

A petty tyrant is looking at his unpaid bills with an obvious look of disdain. His cook serves him stale bread and tainted meat in a fever of panic, as she feels a ghost cross her path. It is January and the frozen lake outside the window holds skating children. Across the street is a church, inside of which a rabbi dances in a white silk coat, oblivious to the world around him. Behind the church, in the alley, a fool shouts, "I am the World!" In an open window above him is a face, belonging to a man who realizes that the fool is not such a fool after all.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

The Snowman of Distractions

You say, "There is a method to the madness."
I say, "My method is madness."
You say, "For the sake of sanity!"
I say, "Let go of it. It'll drag you down."

Death knocks at your door.
You run for your life.
Death knocks at my door.
I invite him in for tea.

I suppose that we are different,
I've loved you and I'll love you evermore.
And though snowmen melt in the hot sun,
It is only when they're sane.

...And not made of packing material.

The Blast of That Trumpet

This is for all those who contemplate suicide.
This is all for those close to Death.
This is in honor and memory of the only Rumi.


"Remember me,
I will be with you in the grave,
on the night you leave behind
your shop and your family.
When you hear my soft voice
echoing in your tomb,
you will realise
that you were never hidden from my eyes.
I am the pure awareness within your heart,
with you during joy and celebration,
suffering and despair.

One that strange and fateful night
you will hear a familiar voice--
you'll be rescued from the fangs of snakes
and the searing sting of scorpions.
The euphoria of love will sweep over your grave;
it will bring wine and friends, candles and food.

When the light of realization dawns,
shouting and upheaval
will rise from the graves!
The dust of ages will be stirred
by the cries of ecstasy,
by the banging of drums,
by the clamor of revolt!

Dead bodies will tear off their shrouds
and stuff their ears in fright--
What use are the senses and the ears
before the blast of that Trumpet?

Look and you will see my form
whether you are looking at yourself
or toward the noise and confusion.
Don't be blurry-eyed,
See me clearly--
See my beauty without the old eyes of delusion.

Beware! Beware!
Don't mistake me for this human form.
The soul is not obscured by forms.
Even if it were wrapped in a hundred folds of felt
the rays of the soul's light
would still shine through.

Beat the drum,
Follow the minstrels of the city.
It's a day of renewal
when every young man
walks boldly on the path of love.

Had everyone sought God
Instead of crumbs and copper coins
They would not be sitting at the edge of the moat
in darkness and regret.

What kind of gossip house
have you opened in our city?
Close your lips
and shine on the world
like loving sunlight.

Shine like the Sun of Tabriz rising in the East.
Shine like the star of victory.
Shine like the whole universe is yours!"


Tuesday, January 27, 2009

The Rising Moon is Sinking

A moon as red as the rich loam of the earth
The sailors had never seen a sight like this
Like a ball of lava rising up from the ocean floor
But instead of rising, it was sinking
As it sank, it hissed and steam rose up
As though from a hot pan placed in water
The end was coming; all could feel it
The sign of the moon surfaced in the sailors' minds
A picture like the one before them
The meaning of it was lost unto them
Until now, until this, until the falling of the moon from the sky
Until the sinking of the moon in the sea
Until the end of moonlight, forever.

Saturday, January 24, 2009


The desert holds my sanity
Scorch is its captive
Music holds my insanity
Love is its comfort

Tuesday, January 20, 2009


The sharp tang of the salt hit me like a cargo truck on a busy highway. Almost toppling, I grabbed at the railing by my side. Where in the multiverse did that come from?

A shout, calling my name. "Francesca!" I looked all around, not able to pinpoint the voice. There! A little glimpse of something far below. Under the powder grey boulders piled against each other. There was a small space, big enough to fit ... someone....

"Who are you?" I called back. No answer but the echo repeating itself. "Are, you who are who you?"

Finally the person crawled out. No, not the person. Nothing with that appearance could be called a person. Someone touched my shoulder, startling me. I swung around to find my friend standing there. We were in my bedroom. I looked around, confused. Where had the boulders gone? Where was that ... thing? How did it know my name?

"Francesca, are you okay? You look pale."

"Yeah ... yeah, I'm fine."