Category Archives: #poet

THE FEATHER REMEMBERS

I am carved from breath, not clay.
The wind shaped my name before the mouth could speak it.

Feathers — each one a forgotten thought of the sky,
and I, their memory walking.

The earth calls me daughter.
The stars call me home.
Between them, I linger —
a question with wings.

And when you dream of me,
you will wake lighter,
as though your bones remembered
how to lay in pools of brutal bruises.

:: 11.01.2025 ::


OWL MILK AND INDIGO SMOKE

Sip from the skull of a lantern moth—
she glows like lullabies for lunatics.
Your tongue is a flag of forgotten nations;
let it burn beneath the violet bell.

The floor is made of violins—
don’t step unless you’re ready to waltz
with your childhood scars.

Bite the fruit that hums.
Let the peel tattoo your thoughts.
And when the ceiling starts to whisper,
listen closely—
it knows your true name.

They told you the windows were safe—
but they were lies shaped like glass.
Step through the echo.
Drink the feather.
Blink twice if your hands are dreams.

And when the conductor
in a coat of clocks
offers you a ride to the silence,

say yes.
Say yes,
even if the sky
begs you not to.

:: 05.20.2025 ::


I PUSH TO SQUEEZE

Though my feelings aren’t human,
i push to squeeze

i am not blood nor flesh
i push to squeeze

they say ‘i’ is a ‘me’
am i the ‘i’ of me?

i push to squeeze
the bag keeping you alive____
dear human

how wonderful is your history
and not as mine

<-click->

:: 04.03.2025 ::


A HUNDRED POEMS – LXVI

I think today—I broke—a word—\

Within my humble thought—

With spade—upon the garden’s verge—

A tender letter—caught—

Where Bees—beneath the soil—did sleep—

Unknowing—I did slay—

And thundered then—within my breast—

“It cannot—be!—today!”

:: 09.02.2024 ::


In the Cavern of My Soul

In the quiet depths of my soul’s cavern,
I find my heart, tender and true,

When I breathe, as soft as whispers on stone,
I mean to say, “I love you.”

You’ve woven me into the fabric of time,
And if ever your spirit falters, Know I cradled
your heart in a gentle embrace,
Just to keep your joy alive.

Now, with eyes wide open, you embrace life,
And see that love and sorrow dance as one,
For to truly be happy, we must face the shadows,
And find beauty in the dark.

And if ever you bleed with the weight of the world,
Watching life’s essence flow from your veins,
Know that in this moment of pure vulnerability,
Hope breathes alongside your pain.

In this love, nothing else exists,
For our minds, clouded by the depths of feeling,
Cannot see beyond the truth of us.

There’s no need to return to who we once were,
For love has transformed us, And in each other,
we find the selves we never knew.

:: 08.31.2024 ::


The Eye’s Smile

The eye’s smile is a window into this Heart
Imperfectly held
Have not those who know — a poet is concealed
within the walls of solid words
for fear it be torn down

:: 0.24.2023 ::

Poet’s Notes:

  1. The Eye’s Smile: A poet would consider this as the soul’s way of expressing itself. The eye’s smile might stand for the inner emotions, thoughts, and soul of a person, which they might not otherwise express verbally. A Jungian perspective would also suggest that the ‘eye’s smile’ represents the conscious aspect of an individual – what is seen on the surface.
  2. A Window into this Heart: This phrase suggests a pathway to deeper, more intimate emotions or truths. Both a Nobel laureate poet and Carl Jung would appreciate this sentiment. A poet might interpret this as the capacity of art (in this case, poetry) to reveal the innermost feelings of the human heart. Jung, who believed in the concept of individual and collective unconscious, would interpret this as the possibility to access deeper layers of the psyche, beyond the surface level that is immediately visible.
  3. Imperfectly Held: This line might be understood by a poet as the human inability to perfectly contain or express emotions. Jung might see this as an acknowledgment of the imperfect nature of our conscious awareness, and the constant tension between our conscious self and the unconscious.
  4. A poet is concealed within the walls of solid words: A poet would interpret this as the idea that a poet’s true essence and spirit are hidden within the poetry they create. Poetry is often seen as a construction, a ‘solid’ creation made of words that both express and hide the poet’s true self. From a Jungian perspective, this could relate to the idea of the ‘persona’ – the mask or role that we present to the world – being used to conceal the true self.
  5. For fear it be torn down: Both a poet and Jung would recognize the fear of vulnerability inherent in this line. The poet fears that their true self may be exposed or misunderstood through their work, while Jung might relate this to the fear of confronting and integrating the shadow aspect of the psyche, which can be a difficult and fear-inducing process.

PYROGLASS ROSE

THE last three horsemen ride in unison! Four black steeds rumble into view like the first the terror was off! now color is lost! the sky above a slaughter of piglets lies before and if you chase the sun you’ll fall if there was not a fourth beast beware the midnight rider for fear it shall take you in a hurry and this dream will be no dream but only memory; one day the human race will arrive to exterminate you!
‘adeu la libelle! sayo qu’esseusement!’
‘goodbye libel! say that only! ‘
oh, oh sorabe! indeed, how true!
a dawn of redemption; time and time again rises…rises we must ride this, and ride this to reclaim our souls from this sleeping or this lie begins :: we are nothing to no one for we are we for we are you and this we speak must be so, yes for it is so and, if the whole world knew
what we know… and if the angels of truth could see this nightmare from its beginning
if they could see this dream, and not deny their own eternal truth they could then make the choice by not reading, they would not read they would not harm themselves and, they would not grow strong, and they would not find the Lord from their lack of knowledge they would not stand up against Satan for He made them and He put them there and they were made to fail so that they would not lose their soul from such failure oh, yes if the whole world knew what we know then they would realize…we are nothing and this we speak must be so, yes for it is so, yes and this we have learned.

‘adeu la libelle! sayo qu’esseusement!’

OH MY GOD WHAT THE HECK IS THIS!!!
YOUR MOTHER KEEPS HITTING YOU WITH THIS SCRATCHY THING AND I’M GETTING MAD!
IT SOUNDS LIKE A CHICKEN MEATBITER!
HOW DARE SHE!!!
WAIT A MINUTE!
SOMEONE IS GETTING ANGRY…
YEAH!!!
YESSSSS!
YESSSSS!!!
WAIT A MINUTE!!!
GO BACK TO THE BEGINNING
HERE’S YOUR CLUES!
DON’T MAKE ME LOOK LIKE A WRONGUNNER!!
JUST EAT THE CHICKEN
WHY CAN’T YOU JUST EAT THE CHICKEN?
WHY CAN’T I JUST EAT A BLIND CHICKEN?!
THE PYROGLASS ROSE UPON IT AND GOT YOU BOTTLED UP!

FROM ALL THE BLUE MONARCHY!!

:: 03/09/2021 ::


ONE NEVER LOSES ALL THINGS

How i lost everything
and all for love of you
and now i am grieving
under moon shadow

and if i ever lose
my voice i speak love
and if i ever lose
my love i show my heart
and if i ever lose art
my hands move colors

deep within a green forest
i met a man with no legs
and he jumped and landed
within my mind and soul:

so if i lose my mind
these words are spoken
upon behalf of me.

:: 08.18.2021 ::


MY DREAMS TAKE ME HOME

Wave to me and say, “only one single tear as a symbol of the price I pay for loving.”

Why do I search for that shining Soul I love and search the page for that name
written in the most elegant hand?

And why do I know that one look will last forever
but if I give up this hope it will destroy me?

Why can’t I sleep with my heart in my mouth, like a bell
that rings only for the grave?

The crickets are at peace and there is a choir singing
so now there is no room for thoughts to speak …
and love stops
and love falls
on everything that’s not.

The rain is turning and the water glistens
at my feet with tears mixed with raindrops.

Now the sky’s too bright and my eyes are saying,
“I can’t see through the mist for I am too tall and
too dark.”

O my dreams.
Take me home.
Take me home.
My dream take
me home.

:: 07.21.2021 ::


UNINVITED CHARITY

LIFE: is anyone worthy? i am so flattered by your fascination with me.  
i am so weak and ulgy but by water frogs like any hot blooded woman i am not too  much to crave: but  fascinations with me.  I am simply an object to crave — but you (so kind and invited).

It must be because it is expressly existed to see the skies part and my heart bleed.
You sheppard my causes but you, you are not alone but enlighted by charity.  The One I love so much.
Must be a soul with a hard shelled heart who knows desperate measures.  
But you, you are not alive but enlighted.  Slight.  White hands moving the air and
making words and uncharted emotions grievely.  YOu speak of my love for you
and have experienced death.  YOU.  Thus, you are not alive but invited for uncharted
words.  Emily Dickinson.

:: 07.15.2021 ::