Starting without.. ending within this indescribable dance.
Nothing said, his silence speaks volumes. 
How is it one can leave an impression that shapes your insides –
But within them you seem to pass without a trace?
Only usually, much later, I find out that some part of me scattered seeds
that grew only to be appreciated much after the fact.
I prepare myself for flight, 
trying to shake off the weight of longings that sit upon my wings. 
I dance into another dream, 
but the last one echoes through the walls to warp the hallway and distort my vision.
I marvel at the marble like patterns, 
but keep moving beyond and stealthily my previous steps follow at a fast pace.
I pick up speed only to realize you’ve stowed away in the hidden compartment 
between the driver’s and the passenger’s seat.
So I give myself a gentle shove 
and jump on my bike to feel the wind cut around my cheeks 
and the freedom of unidentified direction. 
The water in the lake brings me to an entirely peaceful state.
I marvel at the marble like patterns, the metallic shimmer, the amorphic shape shifting – 
indescribable dance of light and liquid.. something akin to a computer generated image.
The currents lift me up and give me a gentle shove towards the shore. 
This feeling, this weightless juncture in water and sand.. is without the dip and catch to my fall, but somehow my movements against the currents extend from myself and within it I feel held amidst a simple bliss.

Posted: September 2nd, 2008 under my poetry.
Comments: none

The middle of the night is mine.
The silence and the fuzzy air and my mind spins wherever it likes.
I go backwards and forwards in time.
I can trespass and visit all loves in my life.
All paths are broken open to investigate or reexamine.
I am the excavator, here I dig and digest, chisel and hammer.
All kinds of fossils and various stones and rock.
I chip away at the surface and depths of the giant quarry of my thoughts.
Occasionally the avalanches overtake me and I’m down for the count.
But most of the time it requires much more patience and delicacy -
peeling back the layers and allowing the air and light to stream in.
Sanding down to polish my collection of cares.
My pockets are full by the time I lay down my head –
with whole new points of view.
And the opalescent shells I stash in a bowl on the nightstand,
submerged in water, to catch the light and
outshine the ones I let go to the sea tomorrow.

Posted: September 2nd, 2008 under my poetry.
Comments: none