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A Psalm of ConnectionA Psalm of Connection
O God of Universality--
connector of quarks, of the double helix,
of butterfly wings, of the knitting in my hands,
and of the flesh that holds the needles.
You are that which created the cosmos--that which created all
truths and, indeed, all that is.
My song seeks endlessly for you:
Are you Jesus? Buddha? Krishna?
I suspect you are all--and none.
I will have to seek you again outside,
where the air moves, within and without.
And so I find you through awe: when I look at the stars,
when I sit in the redwoods beside a brook.
And, yes, I found you over and over in my babies' faces;
I then truly learned to know a state of grace.
I want to know:
Do we talk only to ourselves when we pray? Perhaps.
But sacred connection is there--from person to person,
from leaf to leaf, from breath to breath.
When we light a candle, heal a heart,
or feel longing for the stars,
your power--OUR power--is there,
within and wi
In the NewsIn the News
effort the young
pilot whale angles away
from the shore, destined to
his mother beached.
Lungs crushed, she is pulled down
on the New England shore
by gravitys awful
A New Mexico ChildhoodA New Mexico Childhood:
A Eulogy for My Brother, Gone at 50
God came for my brother at 3 a.m. Not about 3 a.m. but
literally: Right then. It was exact, and I know because I was there.
Apparently, God and Cooper had a pre-arranged appointment to keep,
one we just couldn't find in his datebook. At first,
we were relieved that the merciless pain,
cruel beyond measure, was now in the past.
My mind drifted back and forth; my eyes sought his face, his
hands. I held his hands over and over: dead or alive, those hands
had something to tell me if I could just listen harder! His hands were
like our father's: strong, sure, with beautiful fingers
that belied the hurts inside. And, indeed,
my brother's y
Inside OutInside Out
Credo in unum Deum.
A poem to the not-world
Of want, of need,
of emerging new world.
Have you cried for my not-committed
Or for my committed not-sins?
Kyrie, eleison! et Christe, eleison!
Sung long ago by an old priest, then
on the coast of Normandy
or maybe a few decades ago in
some college dormitory, sung by the
but, Kyrie, elesion!
What world is this,
love/sin can purify
Gratias agamus Domino Deo nostro.
A heart is a unique device
in that it can function perfectly
It's then that humankind becomes
impatient with perfection and
destroys all remaining
which isn't much,
when you think about it.
Caught in the Fast LaneCaught in the Fast Lane
Tiny wheels spinning inside
dizzying flame and golden spheres
when at times they touch,
they stop, puzzled;
then around they whirl and spin!
The faster they spin,
the brighter the blur,
the cleaner the flame,
and the less they touch
Remembering Robbie's HorseRemembering Robbies Horse
I knew a man once who could jump on
his horse from a running start behind
that great beast, just like the cowboys in
the movies. He was a good man from
a cursed family riddled with six
unhappy lawyers and brokers. Was
that why Robbie became a welder?
At Three MonthsAt Three Months
Your perfect infant
head has planes and curves I
can feel when miles away.
My son, you owe no one
love; it is just your
birthright. Or perhaps in
part you owe your father
this gift of mother's love:
It is his gift to methis fire
that at first I could not take
for myselfthat lets
me love you now and
always as I can and
should, as I do.
woman with the burnt-out lungsCigarette-flushed face,
you never bothered trying to quit for your kids, though you were one when you started.
It wasn't real until the Big C knocked.
Once burned, twice shy,
your cousins remembered another family member, pixie-cut hair she once permed so proudly,
double-crossed and dying in a cold bleached bed.
Woman with the choked-down laugh,
we didn't want to believe it was cancer, chemotherapy, hospital, beloved, eulogy, grief,
when your daughter can't even spell the words yet.
It's all we can do to hope you hold faith like your aunt didn't, that you will end
your days knowing God. There's nothing else now but drugs and one last bout of misery.
Say goodbye to your children, Pam, and know you are loved.
To My Best Friends' ChildTo My Best Friends' Child
I miss you more than I thought I could miss
someone I met only as a swift, sharp kick
I miss your unheard cries, your unwiped shit,
the way you never gripped my thumb in your tiny fist
I held your mother for an hour last night
as she shook with wordless, tearless cries
while my husband talked down your dad outside
even your dogs hid under the bed and whined
you had a great set of gay uncles in us
to babysit when your folks needed a little fun
and later, drop you off and pick you up
and much later, teach you drinking without getting drunk
and you were going to teach us too
if we were ready to adopt a friend for you
instead, you taught us too much, too soon
about how much we didn't know we had to lose
Waltz with me a gentle rhyme
Meet me under the moonlight
Where the wind blows backwards
Time will never end
A ghost boat around the skyline bend
And a vampire’s kiss
The blood of a rose
And the song of the abyss
Where the wind blows backwards
That’s where you and me
My child take thee
And earn a window pain
A wolf howl on the biting rain
Until I can take your hand
And we can dance the final death
In your arms
We don't touch eachotherMy family lives in a cutlery set
from the eighteenth century,
each spoon and fork is segregated
by red velvet notches;
we do not touch each other.
I will flinch every time you
hold onto me for longer
than four seconds.
I am uncomfortable on couches
because I was raised to keep
my elbows to myself.
I attempt to accept touch as a gift,
but it feels as if someone
is handing me a bomb,
I can't help becoming tense,
waiting for the explosion.
You're too bony.
I can't deny the facts.
My fingers are icicles that never melt.
My bones are weapons that grow sharper.
There are few humans and felines
that can stand to be near me.
There are few humans and felines
that I can stand to be near.
It will take me years of rehearsing
for my body to feel as if you're
an extension of itself.
If you're patient,
The NoisesTick tick tick tick
Tick tock tick tock
Pound pound pound pound
Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP!
It's dreadful, oh how dreadful
This unbearable noise is.
It just ticks on and on
Making my head pound.
Tap tap tap tap
Drip drop drip drop
Ding ding ding ding
My mind is trapped, I am trapped...
The voices, oh, the voices!
Such boisterous voices!
They get louder and louder
'Til I cant hear the world.
Hey hey HEY HEY
Sing song sing song
TALK TALK TALK TALK
Oh, shut up! SHUT UP!
I Wish I Could Have Taken You ThereI wish I could have taken you to Neverland
So you would never have had to see the bad
The war that goes on within your fairytale castle
Fight pirates instead of your own family
Dance with the fairies till the world turned dizzy
Leave the grown ups and growing up behind
Play with wooden swords and learn how to fly
Live with Peter and the Lost Boys band
Hear stories like the Croc and Captain Hook's hand
Never listen to parents fight or 'you cant's again
I wish I could have taken you to Neverland
Phases in GriefDenial
They wouldn't do this to me.
There must be a reason.
I'm camouflaged in bruises,
from head to toe for a lost reason.
Cut my blood open,
and show them what it feels like;
to feel my pain.
It doesn't show itself,
but I know it's there.
I'll give it all for this to stop.
I'll give it all for a second chance
at my past.
Give it all for different blood.
Make it stop.
I slowly build oceans;
by my eyes.
Cover it all up with a few laughs.
Not telling anyone my story.
I accept my future, my fate.
But deep down, the past scars still show.
I'm treated like this but later,
I'll be alone without blood.
I roam my house and all I see is division, hatred, evil, and broken. It is worst as I look at my grandparents home, divided by all and disowning of the eldest.
I wish at times how I would want to see my mother, able to walk the same ground as my grandmother, aunt, and younger sister.
Hated is all I see, blood is spilt on to those who don't care, and hearts die as they are changed.
Two-faced and judgement roll off the tongue naturally toward those who are dead to them. I stay quiet as I hear such things toward one another.
Many times I would like to say 'that the things you say are what we learn. And when we grow older, we will hate our eldest child for one thing. Soon they'll be dead to us.'
I would also say, 'What you're telling us is that we must love our siblings, since that's all we got, but you don't do the same?'
My aunt would reply, 'We are adults, that's different.'
But in reality it's not, . . .
It's being a person who doesn't do as they tell others.
And I hope ka
StrengthThere she lays silently in her room
her radio turned on to low
The faint sound now echoes within her four walls.
Shadows that surround her every move
Alas she is afraid, scared, frightened
She does not fear the shadows
She fears what is to happen next.
Fear that will soon devour her soul
The fear that gives it life
The possibilities that flourish her mind.
All the possibilities...
Those she hopes to avoid..
she hopes to ignore
she hopes will soon disappear
Trying to ignore what she hears in the next room over
the loudness escalating, the adrenaline burning
The fury, the power of deceit
The thudding of their hearts beating
That once beat as one, now only to be a memory
The constant thudding between her ears
The scent of the blood boiling
She pulls the wool covers over her head
The childhood memory
The feeling of safety
Expecting the warmth and comfort
that is then replaced with the coldness
The chills of what is to arise,
what is to come,
what the future holds
Attempting to block out al
New Mexico ConflagrationNew Mexico Conflagration
Alone, among these burning pinon trees,
I wonder how the fire came to be.
The sparks still shower down.
The scent of loss is crowned
With knowing, once again, there's less of me.
This strong incense confuses nose and heart:
Reminders of both peace and pain, in part.
Renewal from this blaze
Must wait 'til pain has aged
When meaning we must find provides its start.
To recognize the phoenix in a soul
Is to search for hope where none might seem to grow
Yet some seed within (so real!)
Waits now for us to heal
When life itself--still green--begins to glow.
Twenty-three years before the crippling of Crown Prince James III
He was fourteen and she was probably aged about the same, give or take a few years. It had been an hour since he'd met her.
He hated her already.
She scowled behind him and likely shared the sentiment as they scampered up the hillside in a desperate attempt to escape the roaring mob that seemed to be growing perpetually larger and coming ever-closer. Gabriel would have liked to say that it was all her fault he was in this situation, though it was his careless nicking ofwhat was it? A chicken that started the first old woman running, but how was he supposed to know that she'd stumble and fall and everyone else would think he'd assaulted her?
He hadn't. He'd taken the chicken, snapped its neck and run, because he hadn't eaten meat in weeks and he was starting to feel the affects on his already weak limbs.
This is what happens, he thought. This is what happens when you live like th
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^Nyx-Valentine arrived in our community and started whipping everyone into a frenzy with her relentless desire to bring the Artistic Nude and Fetish galleries to the fore. 9 years later, and it's safe to say that Nyx is not only a leader as a photographer in these galleries, but she has also established herself as a much saught after model. ^... Read More