Saturday, August 31, 2013


I am neither in nor out.
Meaning, there is no reference point.

And I will do things, 
like meet you
to fling paint and 
drink wine,
even though I know 
it’s more an invitation
to soothe our broken hearts and
seek solace in our 
mutual desire
for loving 
and being loved.

And yes, our comfort in
each other is 
hot and fleshy and fun
and leaves us spent for the moment,
but it’s not
in and it’s 
not out,
and there is no reference point.

You are shy and I am silent,
we are protecting
our still broken hearts,
but now we are 
even more naked,
even more exposed.

We talk about what we want:
you begin and I am grateful,
you are speaking
my heart as you open your own
our deep need 
for healing from within  
what is it to be so self-referred?
fulfilled? contained?
our deep desire 
for connection from without
will I ever belong?
to anyone? anything?

We toss about a way or two
to moil through the mire together,
but our hearts are
neither in nor out.
There is no reference point.
We cannot see the way.

And so I say:
like it or not, we are living
the in-between space,
not together and not separate,
grasping yes, but somehow still healing,
we’re threestepsforwardtwostepsback
a mirror,
a reflection,
a possibility,
a reminder.

And even without knowing
the depth and breadth
of the stories that
brought us into this
liminal space of heartache
and darkness,
the reference is our
orientation to the light,
whatever else we may
or may not be to
each other.

We are a witness
for the journey
of the threshold  
– the doorway –

and the courage of the heart
that beats and beats
no matter
how far in
or how far out
we may be.

Wednesday, August 21, 2013

Hungry Ghosts

Standing outside, waiting for the door to open. A glance, a meeting of the eyes, the surprise of acknowledgement, the undoing of my soul.

She is everything good.

How many times will I lose this beloved?

I am the loss of love a thousand times. A child asks, when will I die?

This is who I am:
Violent longing.
Constant companion.

Finding my way, finding my life, finding my life as my way.


Listen: our dignity and our chances are one. We were in love with change and the possibility enlightenment was real.


In the slow deep space of

the cusp
the fringe
the veil

the angel-kiss of eyelash
the tender stroke of kindness
the blessing of beginning


lifts me

into the more.

Friday, August 16, 2013


will forever make
me think of you, and

cool evenings
in the cover 
of tall trees, and

damp earth, 
tender hearts,
wood smoke and

sweet, small
flickers of hope
in the deep night green.