Memory // Dream

i am ready for the love of eyes gazing

world swirling in pupils palms


i see old loves folding into new

with what reminds of full and happy hearts


my own aches with readiness

a third heart beat


yet it is not present and so perhaps 

time whispers, “not yet.”


“ok” I say. “What is in the interim?

Help me grow my nature for love’s

deepest, please.”


in a sigh the tears of tasting 

both a memory and a dream.


remember that storm?

the trees became horizon -

a sideways zipper.

tornados sealed the world

who appeared ripping.


my face likewise gathers

flowers in each crease.

afar a sunset’s glow

up close, a garden. 


every crevice, my mothers hand

all sweat all storm, a watering can

that permits my face to blossom.

even elbows bloom.


beauty passes down 

through fingertips of rain.

what was dry became fertile

once tickled. 

The Soul of Real

In this time of infinite space 

I corral myself like cattle. 

Behind iron fences are cement walls.

I salivate futures beyond slabs.

Environment molds structure :

Unnatural becomes natural.


All things teem with Lenard Cohen's cracks

that ache for expanses the heart lives daily. 

It is my fingertips who doubt.

This Godly place is plain

where light's reflection's crystalline.


My current plant sees horizons

when structures finally crumble

so I've been holding my breath for years.

It is in this dizziness I see God's shimmer.


I know He exists in breathing too.