Child to the Stars

I would try to be like the stars,
feet ever sadly upon the ground
I’d look up at that bright family,
a child, truly, ever alone was I;
but I told this not to any soul
and still I’d never wish to tell
that I’m still seeking my own
in moonlight desperate darting
to the lighter parts of shadow
who sing me bits of life and poetry

Regardless of this Dark Abysmal Sea

Khaleesi (April 21, 2019-August 28, 2019)

You played with us for too short a while, friend,
yet you gave the most love to everyone you’d meet
teaching us about the open heart of sun and skies
how the sun is never bashful or stingy with its sighs
even when you were asleep you dreamed us joy
like the moon reminding of prior days’ abundance
breathing in and out the world so close you’d keep
that stars and hearts sang to the love that you’d see
the one you saw regardless of this dark abysmal sea

Necrologicos

Writing is a form of necromancy,
digging up what you thought was dead
what you believed was never even alive,
what you believed could never even exist,
only to discover that not only does it breathe,
but that it was the one breathing for you all along

Beautiful Errors

when I was younger and filled with desire,
I used to think that powerful art could awaken,
that the charms of poet, music and philosopher
could return us to our long lost forgotten souls.
but how mistaken I was about that primal love
for I had not known or returned to my own soul
and so how could I have possibly ever known
that all religion, philosophy, brilliant art and song
are maps of an erroneous creative mind blind
confused and longing for a heavenly blissful life
a life that has been present for us here all along.

Heart Beats with a Trillion Flickering Stars

Upon the day the sun shone brightest, I looked upon the waters of the deep,
I thought perhaps I could gain knowledge of the life of these greatest seas
for I had been fond of such abysmal research before, watching the crowds
passing by or doing their daily chores, heads down, hands unable to hold
unable to give, unable to scold or to capture their dreaming desires bold.

Yet all I could ever see upon the surface of the sea were mirrors of me
fragments fallen to the bottom, souls of me swimming in that dark deep
with a frightening and most sinister gravity hiding down below pulling
my heart beneath to be and live there alone as alone as the earth is alone
she, a living cosmic symphony who muses with all planets, sun, and stars.

Could it be, I wondered, could it be that my drowning is a birth of me?
Could it be, I marveled, that I could dissolve into that heaven born sea?
I will dare the wandering as ocean flows and reaches the shore to leave,
as I, too, breathe wondering to where leads this strangest of journeys
the one where water’s rhythm heart beats with a trillion flickering stars

The Work of Sun and Moon

I stand between the dawn and the dusk

as the moon stands midst dark and bright

sweet light borrowed from her consort Sun,

and as I wain, darker creatures ever emerge

In the sleep of those anxious and despairing

as if the lights of heaven are disappearing:

dark in that night are those lost sorry souls;

but as I turn face to reflect his light in full,

those cruel fears dissolve each in their turn

giving song to those bright and starry souls.

Let Go the Shadows (Purgatory)

Who are you—who, against the hidden river,
were able to escape the eternal prison?”
he said, moving those venerable plumes.



Then he replied: “I do not come through my
own self. There was a lady sent from Heaven;
her pleas led me to help and guide this man.

Dante, Pugatorio, Canto 1, 40-42, 52-54

my love,
I saw you standing midst those who in purgatory dwell
singing makeshift words of another’s conjured rhymes
lies that evaporate before entangling hearts and minds
what you still pretend to be yesterday and tomorrow
as a child clinging to hopes from mommy borrowed
the thin shades cannot survive your heavenly skies,
not a million could survive the power of your light
to lead you to where you know you are called to go
to be brave enough to pass through your own shadows;
for the reflections of others will never keep you close
the shadows that follow others when they leave you
what you mistake for love just ’cause it hurts the most.

Love Portal

Love is found in the gift of time we give ourselves. It is found in the small and beautiful places, the places we don’t believe we have time to notice because we are busy chasing the bigger dreams and visions that other people gave to us.

2 of Swans

Love is that single rose who blooms
vivid red to capture wandering looks
portal to a universe magical but true
yet whom summer breezes oft confuse
with the tired colors of old passersby
noise overwhelming flowers that cry,
for human ends do drag them far away
to resume the repeating and familiar day
whilst rose is left to dry petals falling
doors closing to the vast expanse of all
magic lost till when again Love calls.

You, Prometheus Rising

you are of the divine and kindly Prometheus,
heart forged in flaming fires of the rising sun,
let your light feed every seed upon the earth;
and reflect upon waves of dark feminine waters
as both flying and sinking in between the clouds
space and time collapsing to true power attracting
false people you’ve imagined are now to dust falling
shadows as scurried spiders and rats burrowing