All the Ways

In the afternoon
everyone’s mind wanders off,
sometimes scanning an empty street
to see a familiar face or car
only to end up rummaging through
the pantry of emotional jam
for just the right flavor
on just the right
kind of toast with tea.

Taste the sweetness
just inside the mouth of memory
and you will know the bitterness
of this much longing
like the Buddha
eating a few grains of rice
on the last days before
enlightenment.

Tomorrow you will come to me
like you did the last time
and hold me
before I fall,
too weak to stand
alone in my desire.
Here it will be known
that the human body
can be moved to great courage
for a single act of unconditional love.

Hold my face in your hands.
Place your hands on the small of my aching back.
Rub my weary temples.
Stoke my curls damp with night
and foggy with sleep
and dreaming
of all the ways
I want you.

Untitled

The ancient scent of your soul
lingers on the hem of my dress
and on my hands from this earthen climb.
Even the locks of my hair curl
around the sacred conversation
of the musky dampness
of this kind of paradise.

Here we live
in memories stolen
from the pocket of a widow's coat,
from another life,
where you slip shoes
from my tired feet
at the end of a long day
and assess the damages
with so much kindness
I've come back to find you again.

In the geography of the impossible
we've found each other wanting nothing more
than comfort and the ease that comes
just healing the wounds of another day.

Come even closer than you dare
and exhale into my open mouth.
Here the green moss will rub free
from the walls of this old place
and you will see my name
etched into the stones
near the river
and into the place inside yourself
that reflects ripples
of absolute home.

The Earth Between Us

It is September
and the heat of the day
turns my heart racing
like the blades of a frantic fan
trying to disburse the remnants
of a summer that never was.

Red leaves fall outside my windows
onto the dirt of the driveway
like droplets of old blood,
crimson with a death I love.

I can't take my eyes off the body
decaying slowly with the light.

I've waited through stagnant years
to unleash the fury of my life.
The switch has been flipped
and the spark ignites moment after moment.

On, off.
On, off.
On, off,
blinking,
then holding
steady.

For one moment at a time
we hold each others' gaze
in the dark house of the truth
and listen to the leaves drop
whispering to the earth between us.

In the Pursuit

It is September just before the first frost.
Here I am in the overgrown garden

and I am not the farmer.
I am located on the edge

of the tangled summer.
You will find me to the left

of the stonewall
and where the trees have learned

to translate silence,
where fog and desire blur the edges

of all the rules of nature.
For all this heat

we have burned to make one another glow,
to gaze at sun setting into purples,

and to let earth cool around us
until we are lifted into the arms of stars.

We travel in native time and heal our wounds
with magic, secret herbs, and prayers

that sooth us with the blessings of our mothers.

Be lightning. Be skin and blood to touch.
Be an endless breath. Be invisible and primal stones

anchoring us to these happy days of new autumn.
Let the sky take us to where we harvest

only the bright beauty
of our absolute joy.

Speechless

Words escape me
as I look at your face
and into your eyes
after the wave
of these souls
crashes over me.

I tumble in the surf,
broken into pieces of glass,
and shine on the shore
to be taken again
and polished smooth
by sounds that syllables
will never understand.

Words are nothing
but sky exhaling
in this place where body
and the spririt are entwined
like the tendrils of ivy
and sturdy bars of steel.

Your mouth on mine
unlocks the heavy doors
of grief and your hands
guide the blind beggar home
unashamed in the light of day.

With the wisest vision
I remember the curves of this path
and the direction the cairns point us
on the rocky shore.
Our mortal frames are strong enough
to carry the burden of love
from the sea this time
and I can do nothing but walk steady beside you
and hold up the image of your truest self
like it was the key to all the languages
ever spoken by those who know peace.

These are the only words spoken from this place of silence.

Peaches for a Pie

The thin blade of my knife

slips easily into the sweet flesh

of the peaches.

My fingers and palms

are covered in the thick slickness

as the skins and pits fall into the sink

and I slice the fruit into the curve 

of the blue glass bowl.

My hips lean into the counter

to do this quiet summer chore

and I can't help the thought of your mouth

that enters the dim light of the afternoon kitchen.

What my hands could offer

that empty fasting place

with one simple gesture

like priest to believer.

And in that moment of faith

I disappear into sugar,

flour and butter I cut so small

no one will notice

the stutter in my breath

as the shadow of awakening

slips his hands

around my waist

and whispers love 

into my ear.

Stone Placed in Palm Before Dawn

I place a smooth stone
in the center of my palm
before I walk
as a reminder of the place of love
from which I come.

The gritty surface of her cool skin
will guide her belly skillfully
onto the waiting partner
to balance and hold that sturdy structure
where sanctuary begins.

They pray together, embracing under the sun,
as their exact selves—
no pressure to be anything
but the vessel collecting wisdom
in the small spaces chipped into the hardness
like truth always manages to do.

Hard won reward
is the act of kindness they offer each other
in the quiet of this spirit place
and the eyes, naturally, stay open
to watch every moment bloom
on the alter of the soul.

The safe harbor of this beautiful garden refuge
is enough to give strength and courage
to the rest of each cacophonous day.