Welcome

I love contemplation, curiosity, self awareness, imagination and strange things. I write about the human condition, and often write about love lost. Tragic, haunting, graphic, strange, heart-wrecking sorrow calls to me, and so; I write. I believe there is beauty in sorrow. I’ve lived it, seen it, felt it, know it. I hope that my words create a Universe of their own for you, full of visuals and contemplation.

Please note, because I feel that some posts are more for adults, just drop me an email and I’ll give you the code 🙂 Anyway, thank you for reading my words. I hope that you enjoy.

My Mourning Gown

Snowy Steeple

My mourning gown
My stinging undoing
A wreck, ruined and breathless
As my lungs insist –

This firesong was ours without a doubt
Hearty passion, intuition, entered at our own volition
Look through my seasons
Look through my eyes
Onto the parts of me that no one else should ever see
Onto the pieces that should be left to obscurity
Douse the melting flame
With breath and touch and gasoline –
With lips and mouth and quarantine –
Where starched sheets tangle, like our legs
As kiss becomes one spark to flame
Within thin walls pressed ears could obtain
Soft moans, in peaks of cherished pain
Reckless marks on tender skin
Taste so sweet they should be sin
And mortal, crimson petals bleed
Passion purring rhapsodic need
Velvet smooth against the rough
To singe so sweet never enough

And in my mind I live to dream
Of angel wings we laid upon, as over skin our fingers crept til dawn –
Fingers drenched in the sweet obscene
That, after pulse and breath did still
Did hold filter-tipped to our delighted lips
Bleached, thin strips, of menthol flavored nicotine

Into your eyes I remember; I fell unbound
Silent, sweet, searing sound
To fade, to die as mortals do
These lips immortalize what was true

My mourning gown
My stinging undoing
A wreck, ruined and breathless
For what no longer does exist

Wrecked awake

Snowy Stream Skimming the Subconscious?


Gathering my energy
Histories frames illustrate that I need ritual at my table
A feast to stop the lingering and rotting
To inhibit the dying and halt the death
Strange doesn’t indicate insane, but I’m not sure where I am
I thought my definitions were crystal fireflies and amethyst dragonflies
Tilling the soil in my soul
But an ill wind has pelted me with an acrid desert and I admit that I’ve damned my own river at times
With my mortal, deceptive, checkmate sentiments, etching sharp cornered boxes that I cut myself climbing in to…
I’ve tried to scoop the stars into my blessing bowl –
Stir their soft, unwavering vitality into my emptiness
Harness the moon, bathe in its crisp, generous, purifying beams
But the tide has ebbed and hope has settled into twilights camouflage
Shadows and dust, grime and rust, present and past, and thus
Beneath frozen ground, crocus and memory feel like velvet crushed
Timeline unravels like twine; Fraying lengths of lethargy and apathy…
We slide through eons like glowworms, interpret and invent ourselves, our epitomes, between our highs and lows
We hunt and gather a montage of whispers, hums, thoughts, beliefs, voicings –
We become
But this biting, frostburn winter has come among my travels, and among the debris I have lost my pith, my flame –
My scorch
Laudanum dreams might inject some warmth into the spirit of this place –
This institution of empty puppets, their layered, paper mache strips of faded letters, extolling yesterdays presence –
Extolling yesterdays presents… those dusty, pasted pieces shape bone, and limb, and holes; Vacant eyes of the dead
Chew up the ruby fire which exists in all lifetimes of clockwork dimensions, gnash and pulverize its shimmer…

As we rush from one time to another, chasing our breath and the sanity in our minds –
Smoldering embers can be stirred into fire
Over infinite rehearsals, we create vast valleys, to traverse whenever we reach into the echoes of ourselves
Where the sacred speaks –
Stones, blaze, smoke, haze; Symbols that weep, that rise or seep; Uncover and steep…
This crust, with a gentle boot nudge, cracks open a channel
Where have I gone?
I’ve caused my own slow death
Distance has not impressed the ghosts of my tender age
Yet held close to my heart a safer place –
I wish that scars could be strung on silken thread
To wear like pretty things, but take off and lay aside when tender spots ache
Fling into a corner or set upon the sill of an open window –
For the crows to carry away and churn into shiny totems
To make, for just one moment, shattering tragedies into things with enough purpose
That the pain, shame, isolation would melt into the ground…
I’ve walked where normal made you strange
Which haunted all of my ghosts nefariously
The pieces may never fit exactly again
But I refuse to have a love affair with regret
I am my indifference against incompetence
I am my psychology, philosophies and treasons –
A whirlwind charging into the seasons
I ask myself “What conclusion did you expect from your course of action?”
As I attempt to solicit the juice from immeasurable reasons
Staying one step ahead of myself seems a potent intrusion –
It extracts the softness from falters and hindsight
Renovates the myths of this breakdown
Into the mystical of a breakthrough
I am a compass
I am a bridge
I am my own thoughtful measures

Sunshine through the window dapples the walls with flower shadows
Fall is unfolding into winter, and wistful arms wrap me in a contemplative cabaret
To cavort, in a mad feast of affection for the miseries and the revelries
Lick the bitter from the wounds
Savor the sweet teasing my lips
Like grapes left late on winter vines become ice sugared wine to sip
And I can feel the lulling weight of anticipation, a divine opus sprouting in this desert in my soul
Beneath a frosted rubenesque moon
I smile

The Last Dragonfly

Spectacular Sign

You
Were the highway of my childhood –
Aspen birch skin, feline green eyes, waterfall, platinum tresses
Curves and legs
Hollywood voluptuous in a small-city girl; You were Marilyns prelude
Your joie de vivre lighting the Hollywood strip, pale, candy cane pink kisses trailing behind you
You inspired eyes of desire, and I
I chased your magic –
It followed you everywhere, although you rarely noticed
I tried to catch it in a jar, but it was trickier than those fireflies that lit the lilac bush in summertime
I tried to lure it onto my palm, but it was fierce and wild
But as the years fell away, you did, as well
Clouds of fire
Rolling through the sky
Roiling, toiling angry monstrosities
Beautiful chaos like your embattled eyes
Violin lips pressing a haunted melody against every blissful season, chilling each pleasant breeze
Blowing icy kisses that frosted the ocean waves as you stood barefoot in the cold, wet sand
Lingering somewhere that could never be touched…
Captured in a Polaroid, your hair whipping in the wind, face turned sideways, eyes numb, like your smile
And I dared never ask the question –
Since your demons easily tripped you up
And your spurs, and quills shot to attention, punching through your delicate, pale skin
Like tarnished armor that kept you separate, kept you scarce and alone
But I remember how I played in your shadow, looking up at you with adoration
Heel to your toe –
The whole world rose in your smile and danced to your laughter
And should there ever be a measure of my soul
It would be those breaths taken within the span of your ethereal wings
Moments when your love unpeeled times grey shadows to reveal exquisite pastels beneath
And, having forgotten who I was
I found myself in the glint of your soft, fragile, velvet eyes
While your lacy wings wrapped me in their lilac-scented sweetness…
We brushed against, and pushed through the clouds that ringed the mountains
Carbonated wilderness full of specters drier than a dead desert –
Coughing up their putrid sawdust, choking us
But you gathered me up and without hesitation, dove into the sky
Wings beating a lullaby
Flew past the sunflowers and marigolds
To land in the clover-dotted grass
Where we tended to our nicks and gouges
And the world righted itself, surrounded by a cornflower blue sky…
Your silhouette unfurls and I reach out from my dreams, my fingers sliding through empty air
Drops slip beneath my lashes to flow down my temples into my dark hair
I don’t want to open my eyes and admit nothingness –
But it resides there, the yin to my yang
Kitchen table coffee mornings were a best part of us
Each time I traveled back, feet on the blue concrete landing, peering through the glass panes into my childhood
Hand on the doorknob, eager
I remember the time the egg shells cracked and I hid in the bathroom, sobbing –
Unable to understand how I could make you so angry
I still don’t know what happened that day, but I hold it close to me, along with sweet, candied moments
Now that I can’t hold you
This morning, I feel separate, scarce, alone, and wish for a lullaby; I’m looking at the sky
Wishing for that fierce and wild in your long ago
As you darted and dodged, hovered and swirled
Prisms of colors, purples, greens, blues and lush black
Wings that kissed my cheeks with tenderness as you flew by –

The last dragonfly