On The Religion of the Trees

The tree gazed at the sun, reaching, as her mother before, had reached. 


to weeks,

to decades.

Lives spent trying so hard to touch. To grow tall enough to be warmed.

One day, a boy sat beneath her branches. Her gaze broke downward. So strange. This boy sat still, soaking in the sun.

But unlike her, he moved.

He smiled.

People approached him and he laughed.

The sunlight poured itself upon him, graciously, endlessly, and he needn't stretch to be welcomed by it. When he was warmed, he left.

She watched around her more from then on. Her friends around her lengthened. Their arms, ached. But they were ceaseless in their need of light and warmth.

Around them an entire world moved, and breathed. They could not see.

Her eyes, unused to a such variance, began to learn. The earth seemed closer now. Her friends looked only upward. She began to seem a mirage to them.

More days she spent observing the ground beneath her, while her friends and sisters grew up. They grew upwards, and eventually lost all sight of her.

But the world saw her. The people and animals began to recognize the glint in her eyes.

Her knowledge.

Her roots began to move in their dirt blankets. More loose by the day. She could see eye to eye with the boy when he came to sit beside her. Until one day, she lifted he legs from the dark, and sat herself.

Warm in the ever giving sun's embrace.


Where Minds Meet

A smoky room with
Familiar warmth
In every glance.

Beautiful music pours
Casually from six guitars.
Songs so terribly unique,

That we'll forget soon.
Throats soar from an excess
Of smoke
And laughter.
This is home.
We spend all the last $20
For tremendous amounts
Of $2 beers
To warm up
Another Winter's night.

Everyone is a little bit
But full of conversation
And open to
That we can't claim.



It is the cool glide of ink
That leads her-
Hand goes heart-ward
Breeding, kneading
The toughness from its flesh:
The beat is back.

It is him, The Moon, cool pull
Dragging the blood through her veins.
The tide is crimson and
Thick, quick as sand
The sorrow has ebbed,
The storm has stilled.

The stars are ageless
In his eyes
The sky is blue curls around
His fingers
His voice flows in waves.
The room leans in.

His words gently bend us
Trees in wind,
The earth is softer now.

The City's Song

The sky above
As buildings pierce it.
A thousand clear blood-drops pour
On a city: breathing.

And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.

Sun or no,
They carry the light in their eyes.
The bustling luminescence
The buzz consumes them
And they carry it,
In their briefcases,
In the knots of their ties
(Hidden under hats).

And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.

The music carries them,
Follows them,
Flows through them.
The colors of them shine on, endless.

And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.

Can you feel the melody
The rhythm through your feet: it pounds.
The harmony of your heart layers the city's song.

And the light goes on,
darling the life goes on.


Now then.

A whole lot of cleaning up and securing of my account.

I hope whoever was here having a BLAST doesn't expect to get in again anytime soon.

And anyone who subscribed to the most recent "posts"

Might want to pack up and head out of my blog.

Baby I'm back for good.




Still Here

To whoever lingers,

I'm still here, still living. Probably more than I have for most of my life.
I'm just out adventuring, learning, experiencing. But most of all finding nspiratin.

I may have some new things to share soon.

Much love to you all (or few).



She bites the bullet so hard,
Her teeth
Feed the fear
Heart aches and finds
No escape.
They have to sleep some-
Time is of the essence
And she feels it like
Slips through fingers
Washes away
Her essence.