Sunday, March 22, 2015


I can feel Death 
hovering around me as of late
As the snow melts 
and the sun comes out
the carcasses of winter are revealed
one by one
I have always been able to feel Death
I was given an awareness 
at a very early age
of the ever present
possible impending 
As the end of this season approaches
As the snow slows it's accumulation
As the frost ceases invasion 
As the warmth blinks the sleep from it's eyes
a blurry image of a dying Gaul 
stubbornly insists on filling my view
Laying wounded at my feet
Pulling desperately on my legs
Trying to climb back up 
into the protective stance she has held for so long
I am afraid to let go of her hand 
which I have held for so long
afraid to stop leaning on the need for a body guard
afraid to let the armor fall around me
However, this battle is nearly over
This season of hibernation
that has lasted nearly all my life
has transformed in the womb of isolation
This tree
strong and tall
full of rings
has worked itself out of the ground 
roots exposed
ready to decompose
and become food for the newborn on its way
I do not need a night in shining armor anymore
Babies are soft
and vulnerable
and open
She will learn to walk and talk 
and discover the world brand new
as she is
baring the birthday suit of her soul
for everyone to see
broken or whole
whatever the case may be
For the dying Gaul is tired 
her job is done
and I shall lay her gently down
smooth the weary from her forehead 
softly close her eyes
and send her sweet dreams with a goodnight kiss
For she has earned this rest
she has earned this peace
yearning for transcendence
Death shall be a sweet release

Saturday, March 21, 2015


If you want to have
the patience
the endurance
the persistence
the impervious grit
that it takes
to make it to your truly desired destination
then you have to feed your soul
If the Lioness is restless
pacing in the cage
you keep her in
then she must be let out
to wander the sanded ground
slip and weave through tall dry grasses
to envision the prey she is created to stalk
If she roars in your chest
again and again
until your arms ache
and your throat is sore
better perk your ears  
you best listen
because that means the lioness
is hungry
and you must feed her
You best listen
so you can decipher her language of pursuit 
an invaluable interpretation
for it may tell you what she is longing for
You best listen
and take note
of the hour
sun or moon
in which the growling starts
in which the howling stops
it is in your best interest to anticipate the frenzy of feeding time
You best listen
so you know what direction
the feline screams may be going to
or coming from
You best listen
so you can tell
which wise the thunder is moving
as it circles around the landscape
You best listen
so you can feel
how close it is getting
gage the quickness of approach
the elevating volume
the speed with which the intervals reduce
For if you fail to listen
to the lioness
If you do not pick up the intimation of her reverberation
lack the sensitive perception of her palette
If you neglect to learn the rhythms of the midnight hunting hour
disregard the patterns of the trails she is wearing through
the roar will temporarly, unexpectedly, mysteriously dissipate
only the rasping of desperate panting remains
Exhaustion has set in
Voracity will take over
diminishing patience
determining the inevitable
For if the soul is not nourished
if the appetite is not satisfied
then the lioness will redirect her gaze
twist back around
and the path leading to the prey
may very well
take her right back to you

Tuesday, March 17, 2015


Monumentous events can be everyday moments
and everyday moments can be monumentous events
the first time your eyes met mine
was a monumentous event
I will always
exactly how you looked at me
how easily your soft hand slipped into mine
Darlin, I think that is when your heart slipped into mine
When we are together
every moment is momental
because no amount of moments is enough
When we are 400 miles apart
I close my eyes and I am instantly with you
When we are 40 miles apart
I cannot catch my breath
When we are 4 miles apart
my heart beat sends earthquake shakes
that rock my body back and forth
and ripple down each limb
When we are 4 feet apart
my skin vibrates and stands up to reach for you

When you are in my arms
I cannot tell where my ends and your begins
When I am in your arms
my thoughts relax into slow motion
The scent of your skin
makes me breathe you in
so deeply
so slowly
so completely
as if I have never smelled anything before
savoring every nuance to store
in my monumental memory
never to forget
When you are in my arms
the radiance of your heat makes me melt into you
makes me melt into me
letting go of any self conscious thoughts I may have had
For in those monumental moments
I am not one person anymore
When I am in your arms
I can hear your voice through your chest
through my chest
Every inhale, every sigh, every murmur
seems to go through my skin
as if I do not even need ears
I hear everything you are saying
and everything you are not saying
Feeling no need to respond
only to listen to the sublime reverberation
When you are in my arms
I count the soft brushes of your eyelashes on my cheek
I watch the blues continuously change
Diving into the deep ocean
every single moment I get the chance
Kiss the lids when they are closed
every single moment I get the chance
When I am in your arms
your cheek softens into mine
your lips soften into mine
your muscles soften into mine
your skin softens into mine
my pulse races
my mynd fills with the momental moment
and my soul comes home
every single time

I long to lay next to you
fingers entwined
with no where to go
nothing to do
but count momental moments
I long to sit at the breakfast table
fingers entwined
coffee cups to lose count of
dishes to leave for later
I long to ride in the car
fingers entwined
waiting for a kiss at each red light
until we get lost
I long for every introduction
fingers entwined
standing proud next to you
meeting each pair of eyes
I long for every twinge of pain
fingers entwined
counting each difficult momental moment
as a gift of time that I get to be with you
I long for the deepest of sleeps
fingers entwined
legs entwined
waking to constellations
that trace across your shoulders
I long for the sound of you laughing
fingers entwined
the silence of you crying
fingers entwined
the sharp of your anger
fingers entwined
the still of your peace
fingers entwined
I long for every moment
I can imagine
I long for every moment
I cannot
I long for all the moments in between
For if every moment
is lived with this fullness
with this ease of knowing
with this natural union
with this reverence of presence
then monumentous events can be everyday moments
and everyday moments can be monumentous events