How You Move Me

This skin-bound mold

of human,


this being

Continues to be shaped,

poured into

by the powers that be.


Being hidebound

can’t contain

the flow of those who

merge to emerge,

to pour out

into the rivers of we.


For those to


into remembrance

pliancy of silken thread,

not protections,


tensile strength

of the heart.




The Occupied Woman


Legions live within

      the boundaries

      of her skin.


Joined not at the hip but 

breath in breath

they are,

they walk,

they weave.

The Old Ones occupy

her heart

in one blood

the echo chamber of Ancients.


Spiders occupy her hair,

their lighted threads

weaving to and fro,

stars to sons.


Light occupies her eyes,

Fire is the kindling of her soul,

Roots run through veins

Drumming the lungs of others.


Of hoofed feet,

winged arms

poured magic from

pawed hands and

horned tendrils of silk.

The pulsing, poolings of stillness


songs of the ancients echoing.


A thousand souls

A multitude of expressions of one flame 

Inhabit this mosaic,

This occupied woman. 

As the Crow Flies

As the crow flies

means something different when

his wings span time and space.


It’s not the shortest route

but the farthest reaching,

bringing the heavens and hearts

into each other.

Time and again,

time and then–bridging the gap,

connecting the map.

String piece and heart peace,

he brings as

the crow flies.

Before and Again

Before there was, I was.

And again, I am; the ceaseless answer to the call and prayer, “Hear us, oh Lord.”

I am the light; a lumined torch so that we may see.

I am the bread; to sate the hunger for spirit and bring comfort in fear.

I am the door; a threshold through which all may walk.

I am the good shepherd; guided by the hearts’ call.

I am the vine bringing the drunken love of the divine.

Again, I am. Born of water, bathed in fire; from stone I’ve grown and beast become.

I walk with thunder, dance on wings between rain, and spin through the heart of man.

Again, I am. The son that rises in the West. The womb of the heart and the breath between the Breath.

Again, I am.


Senses seamlessly

Opening into union

Peace not passing but

Lingering to be shared

         Breath to Breath between

          Thee and We

Between thee and we

is no space,

Only the spaciousness

           of the heart. 

The heart will call to be 

opened into the depths

           of your hidden heaven. 

Heavenly human,

Breathe into thee and we. 

             Into the heart of union 


Longings Laid Bare


The need to be laid bare is palpable. To be fully naked,

exposed and disposed of all secrets,

a tabula rasa erased of all gibberish that holds me in the recesses.

As if the more dark the places are aired out, the more I can breathe.

To eviserate myself so I don’t wither and disappear into the dust without leaving our footprints;

to flay the skin and lay my soul unfurled.

To be witnessed, to not be in my beingness alone, unseen again.

To see my vulnerability

To know my real courage

To know me, see me

intimately. Without fear in the face of unknown and evolution.

To see as much mud as magnificence,

Capable of bringing the stardust,

starlight to the darkest places of

the most walled off heart.

To know the power of wakening Sleeping Giants and Buffalo

embodied in the breath, to be exchanged between lips and piercing tongue.

To know that the soft skin

gives way to an undefended heart,

an eternal fire whose

flames lick the heart of Man.

Because to be touched by love, desire, and grace

as much as  by violence and the violations of others’ sanctified space.

Those things that are remembered and released

To be replenished by goodness and mercy and beauty and light and the

ultimate ecstasy of lover and loving.