Santa Fe

In the desert and it's raining
Red earth soaks under the deluge
Stains the soul
 and breaks my heart

peace found in between those spaces,
in between each grain
moving with wind and water
rocks and sand taken by the wash,
cousin of a river who cannot stay

Turquoise brush against orange and gold
The paintings as far as the eye can see
Bathed in an ocean of lightening and thunder
Carries the future far from me

because the past pounds in the present's pulse,
buried seeds burst
with promises of their ancestors

And as the clouds fall, the colors deepen
One day in the desert, and I saw a flood
And my soul was swept away

Untitled

All the creatures searching for sun

Find my waiting light

Bodies pile beneath

Still, I keep the window open

Wet, Hot Flower (AKA Being female at 32)

Open in the middle of July
Sticky, moist petals
thick, sweet nectar
lures in each greedy bee
covers them in pollen
as they tickle her insides
twisting filaments
tangle in ecstasy
licking stigmas
drip in thirsty tongues
plays that give birth to life
performed on her fragrant stage


And before one bee leaves
another comes


she opens wider
for each visitor
with softened lips
begging for more

Islanders

They take her for granted

Her sparkling surface

Her swirling, deep currents

Mocking her

With 25 stories of concrete pressing her bosom

Cement that controls her curves

But she waits patiently, swirling in her confines

Until the moment she will leap up and swallow them whole.

The Saddest Poem

Tonight I listened to a love song
of new found joy and adoration
and I cried
tears slid past my barricade aching with longing and envy

Tonight I made dinner enough for two
but ate your portion
to fill the empty space you left

Tonight I looked at all the beautiful faces you might gaze upon
instead of the homely, uneven me
passers by who may have visited my abandoned palace

Tonight I sat down to write you
a letter you will
Never
read
but still wanted the Universe to hear
in your absence
so that the echo might carry over some vibrational plane
A catalyst for perhaps a single thought
of me
in which love might have existed...
Instead of lies and deception
and hidden agendas such as those belonging to the cronies surrounding you.

That perhaps, beneath all of that
lay a single, beautiful, sincere cell
with axons and dendrites reaching out
like tattered butterfly wings
where nestled in it's innocent heart
beats a memory of me and love and passion
even if the rest of you has forgot.

This letter will remind
my home in you to not forget
Please little cell... stay mine forever and I promise
I will leave the rest of him alone.