I feel so deliciously
Curious…
About
The space between
Our mouths
Before we kiss and
After we part.
Parting.
Our shoulders
Our shouts.
The electric space between
Lips and ear-the whisper.
In the closet,
The space between his and hers,
The space between leaves on the tree,
Between tree and sky
What happens in these spaces?
These spaces we made
To learn… what?
To heal… what?
To evolve… what?
What of the spaces within myself?
Between feelings and beliefs.
Between feminine and masculine.
Dark chasms, maybe,
Between Spirit and Will?
These are untraveled paths
Paths of mystery and suffering.
But what delineates the paths
Between the wood and the ocean?
How do we “know”
They are separate?
We have stopped at the edge of comfort
Stayed there contemplating
A way out.
We’ve thought,
Maybe aliens will come and finally take me home. Or
I’m waiting for the Final Battle when God will bring me to his home.
What if this is our home.
This uncomfortable, squirmy, asking place.
In stopping we have become the markers of the gap.
What if we cross over?
What if we begin to fall
And continue to fall
What if this is the way
The only way
To fly?

She made a sound.
A sound was made
Just there.
And again!
And the sounds came fast and slow-
Slow sounds rippling over space
And meeting with…?
Aaah..aaah…
She never knew, the sounder,
Until a sound returned
and for the first time
She wondered
Am I not alone?
Not alone in space
Not alone at all?
There was another
Making sounds in space,
Reaching out to learn
What will happen?
Ooo!, but what will happen!
Will happens!
Yes here.
In this space,
A meeting of sounders,
Reaching from love to love and
Through Innocent curiosity
Connection.
Thank you.

In the murky bedroom
Of her mother’s house
Shadows, decayed,
Fill in the gloom.
Curtains drawn tight
Never reveal
Sunlight or storms.
Day or night.
Keep it all out.
Keep out the breath.
Keep out the vision.
The room so bad
It must be hidden.
Lest light come in
Ever unbidden.
Tacky floor
Sticky walls-
If Light saw this
He’d be appalled.
The filth of neglect-
Of habitual hatred.
The rooms repel.
Denial is naked.
Marriage gone-off
Long ago.
Never even a shop keep
To take it from the shelf.
Lovers attacked and eaten
By the deep living
Long-toothed eel.
Bones sunk to the bottom
Forgotten .
Forgotten.
Beyond recognition,
Cavities a slither
With parasites-
This is life.
This is life?
She believed in her condition,
Which taught the glamour
Of self-destruction.
Smoking and drinking,
Cutting yourself off,
You say yes to the devil.
Cut it off.
Take suffering away-
To fit in.
But what gets cut
That’s up to him.
It might be the pain
In your feet or head.
It could just as well be
Your joy or your bliss,
The memory of a kiss.

They are glad, now, to have you to come to.

You are not whole to them.

You are arms that hug.

A voice answering and asking.

You are eyes seeking God in everything.

They are glad to know you are there.

And when they have gone,

They will look back and say,

She never worked a day in her life.

She never had to make money.

But they didn’t know you before.

Didn’t know you when

You preferred to sleep in your car

Rather than get a job. A job.

A job was death.

A job was a blunt instument

At the back of the head.

A job.

But for now,

They are glad you’re here making our home, making beds

Making dinner,

Recording the stories

And the story beneath all the others.

The record of what is happening that leads

To what they will say happened.

And this is what you want to do.

Payment is invisible or barely visible.

Who cares what currency they value?

What do you value?

I value what I have found here

In the rubble of family life.

There is so much here to build with!

Beautiful mosaics from broken colors

Reflecting the faces of those

Previously hidden family members.

My path is made for me.

When I have given up

The tears have come.

Welcome!

When I have given up,

The breath has fled her cage.

Live!

When I have given up,

The shadow has been brought into light.

Hello!

When I have given up,

The silent, still trembling has finally begun to stretch her legs.

Aaah!

When I have given up,

The rage has settled into grief and I have grown softer.

Mmm.

When I have given up

The space we create has taken a breath of relief.

Breathe!

When I have given up,

I have discovered

I am safe.

When I met you
It was
Another summer

I had lost myself
Already
I didn’t hope
For

Anything that
Happened
Would’ve been

Alright I gave
Myself away
For free
No strings

Attached we
Are still
Together.

I’m afraid.
I’m afraid I made it all up
That it wasn’t real
That I’m fake
That I lied
That I’m exposed
That you’ll hate me
Delete me
Cancel your subscription
Stop buying me
Stop liking me
Stop valuing me
Stop stop stop
Everything will stop.
I’ll be alone
In the big Empty Place
In the middle
Of me
Where I’ve been
Before.
I know my way around.
Now that I’m here,
Looking at it,
I can see
The part of me
Exposed, afraid, feeling fake
Fraudish and hated
Is not me.
Is not alone.
I’m here with her.
I can see she’s lovable and innocent.
The trees did swell and
They whispered,
“It’s okay. It’s really, really okay, Love…”

Sacred is my child’s voice
On the other end of the line
Asking “When will you be home?”
Calling me in-
Time to come home.

Sacred is the woman
Standing at the juncture between
Highway and road
Holding a sign which reads
“Stranded.”

Sacred is the driver
Yelling, “Fuck you!”
As he speeds through the crosswalk
Where you are walking
To the other side of the road.
Leading you to feel the parts
Who have thought
“I don’t even matter!”

Sacred is the
Traumatic birth
Of a child
And the “What’s wrong with her?”
From the doctors
She has held as hers
Forever.

Sacred is the recorded voice
Pleading, “Your help is urgently needed!”

Sacred are the raindrops
That must merge
Selflessly
With other raindrops.

Sacred are the floods and
Sacred is the drought.
Sacred is my health and
Sacred is my ill.

This universe is a container for
Chains of sacred beads
Strung by loving hands.
Each one carrying a message.
Each one
A unique piece of artistic brilliance
Crafted by
The Artist,
We.