The Bloom

Nowhere to hide
The light shines
Even when your eyes are closed

Things long buried
Fertilize the flowering future

Roses bloom
What colour are yours?

Mine have petals that share the spectrum
Marigold maybe
Sometimes White
The thorns are always sharp

It is a cruel garden
The soil, rich with
The dead

It is bountiful
Brush stroked by the artist
That sits
Weeping at the easel

Creating a world he cannot stand
To love
Any more

No More Yesterdays

The rear view mirror hangs
Framing what’s passed
In the view ahead

The drive
Forward motion
With the option to look back
Check in
See how far you’ve come

Through time
On the road
That winds
Offers direction

More or less traveled by
Uprising the dust
Stones wedged in the tires

The ride
Smooth asphalt skin

The journey
Wheels turning

Tomorrow and tomorrow
And tomorrow

No looking back
No more yesterdays

I Am A Drop Of You

Eyes wide open
I dreamt of a chill
Your cool grey skin
Silent expression

Regret made me cool
A monster
With you gone
I was too late
I was exonerated

I fell to my knees
Tired of standing
For myself
Against you
In line
Waiting for my turn
To feel the love you doled out
To strangers

I am a drop of you
Yet I make waves

Just a ripple
To you
Though little children
Are overcome with wonder
At a pebble skimming the water
Wrinkling the surface
Before sinking


She let flow
Her whispers
Into the chalice

They gasped airily
The ghosts of words
From her bone-white teeth
To the open mouth of the goblet

Like wine
From the grapes of wrath

The precious breath of lovers

The golden bowl cradled
Her offerings

Tiny echoes swirled inside
Sacrificed and free

They rose like brume
From the gallows
The wolves that howled in her belly
The angels that disrobed her heart

With sighs
Of salvation

There are galaxies inside me
Words alternating
In and out of gravity
Rolling down the windows
Of rocket ships

They ride
In cosmic oceans

Burrow in

They linger
In the weeping
The love
Sensual everythings


Honest lies
Unveiled virgins
Innocent whores

Eloquently shouting
Silently waiting
To be


My family tree has been shaken
Leaves have let go of the monkey bars
Roots remain
Cancer of the brain
Light candles in the temple and
Pages are leaves
Pulp and paper
Back to my family tree

A burning bush
A raging fire

My face is not my book cover
My cover is not my story
It lies
In the woven words
A web
Does that entice you?

I must be close to death
Is that what joy is all about?
Perhaps some consequence is
Written in the stars
The gospel according to Romeo

The word
Sprinkled like black pepper
In my paella
A medley of
Flavors fused in my
I don’t mind
I transcend

My feet on the ground
Keep me here
In your heart
Forgive me
Or don’t

I am gone
To places I’ve never been

Do you understand

She imagined flowers would grow
Where she planted the warm clear seeds that fell from her eyes

The dark soil caught them
And nestled each one with care

In time
Blooms released themselves
Opening the closed doors of
the dead

The Quilt (Of Loss)

The Quilt (Of Loss)

Suspended memories are gathered
In fibrillated fabric patches
Laid vertical
And across

A tangible intangible
Moments of collected loss

A textured timeline
Silk sorrows
Soulfully plotted
Into the here and now
Their odes tightly knotted

Like the chord of the child
Who fell too early from my womb
Never to feel a proper embrace

There lies a square of a
Soft heirloom
A hand-made blanket of
Intricate lace

One heartbeat silenced
By the sound of goodbyes
Cradled in this loving warm space
With tender lullabies

Sung by the voices of tears
From my eyes shed
In a time-signature measured
By stitches of thread

Sewn onto the batting
That cushions each void
With stitches for mending
Hands with stories
To embroid

Hands that still cling
While letting go
Hiding all that is gone
In the symbols
Of each row

Among them lies
A cloudy question mark
Embodying the whys

Lying in the palpable patchwork
Of deferred dreams
Unavailable files for download
Attached at the seams

I am the seamstress
Joining my grandparents’ garments
To my wedding gown
On a quilt of the quiets
Of memories handed down

A mosaic of swatches
Equally measured
With distinct coffee spoons
Of moments stirred

In my chest while
My supple heart still thuds
Later wrapped around your skin when I am gone
As your life still buds

This something from nothing is set
In delicate weight cotton
Nestled and paused
Held and never forgotten

Side by side beside by side
Immemorable pieces of life
Are neatly tied
A childhood tee
A virginal veil
Synthetically woven
Synthesized they hide

A farewell to
The loss of innocence

Bound by a
Silver lining hope
Of permanence

Let it wrap you in my absence
When you seek to feel my skin
When my letting goes have ended
So may yours begin

And so I weaved
Thin thread
Holding on
In my hands
The fibers
Of what once was
Like I was braiding
Your hair
Before you left
For school
For Heaven
This god forsaken place
Ending with a twist
Interlaced strands
A trinity of tresses
United by a band
Like my faith
Wearing thin
Keeping it together
It is snapped
In one swift motion
Of letting go

Paradise Lost and Found

Together we died

A thousand little deaths

Embalmed ourselves

I buried you

You buried me

In the hot dark grave of passion


We unearthed ourselves

Up from under

Straight to paradise

Until our flesh caught fire again

Little death called our names

We answered

As it was in the beginning

. . .

Bedtime Stories

The curves of my body

Are shaped

Like a question mark

You are curious

I have no answers

You do not care

Say I am the great big


You read my skin

Like braille


Beauty marks

Dots for the love blind


Only you can decode