It’s Alright Now

Everything will be alright
everything that you are whispers
these ribbons of truth to secure me
suspended safely above fear

Everything will be alright
every soft exhale assures me
a hum of energy that emanates
through your piercing gaze

Everything will be alright
everything that I am believes you
when you quell my trembling
with one firm embrace

Everything will be alright
finally I have found my rest
this soft feather bed of emotion
the love that I feel for you

The Moth

Flimsy wings of powder and dust
sputter on in relentless motion
concentric circles around soft light
cracked compass of conviction

Artificial glowing eyes multiply
the moon's mercy is obscured
behind quicksilver reflections
made up of false promises

Caught in an orbit of friendly flame
careening toward the untrimmed wick
frail flight forfeited in tongues of fire
beguiling illusion of cool lunar illumination


Thick silence between raindrops
the empty ache inside a soul
starts to feel like hunger pangs
the dry crack of patched lips
after a long drought

The body learns to numb sensations
that have so long stayed untended
like a constant shrill sound that will
eventually fade into the background
pain can for a while be forgotten

Soft cascade into feeling nothing
is suddenly interrupted with the spring
a stirring starts to awaken old memories
the restless internal insistence
to return to the whispering woods


My soul has stood silent for days
stunned back into hibernation by
the sudden loss of something inside
that I didn't know could be stripped away

I've fallen to my knees deep within myself
staring blankly at hands that must be mine
unable to identify with this vacant vessel
that seems to have changed while I wasn't watching

Everything is the same, yet jarringly different
a small, swift tectonic shift of self, shattering
the distorted funhouse mirror of my perspective
left standing transfixed by all the sparkling pieces

Too tired to try collecting every tiny shard
worse than empty, unable to be filled up again
maybe I'll just stay suspended here
in this slow, gawking numbness for now

Why Risk It?

Why am I still contemplating
creative new ways to cause myself pain?
how is it that all of these years
have not touched this yearning?

Can it really be a mere illusion
the way these thoughts light me up inside?
am I meant to simply be grateful for memories
and images that will never be made manifest again?

Maybe the meaning is the love itself
made not to be reciprocated, but to remind me
that I am capable of genuine unconditional devotion
that the liquid depths of my soul still exist

All intention is lost in the static of raw emotion
what do I really expect for the outcome of reaching out?
afraid I'll end up losing this thunderclap of hope
that still crashes upon me from time to time

The electric current of sudden signs
that make my heart start cracking open
with the swelling ache of undying affection
that smarts and soothes simultaneously

I shudder to think what would be left
if I lost this last refuge of lingering longing
the safe harbor I've held onto of precious pain
that is sweeter than any prayer

The Ocean Breathes

Serenity resides beside the seashore
beneath the salty breath of the ocean
the rhythmic humming of the heavy tide
reminds me to breathe deeply

The liquid lungs of this sacred planet
the dark, watery womb of all life
releasing oxygen into the atmosphere
while it sways against the weight of the moon

The crashing exhale of massive waves
chases away all fears of letting go
hypnotized by the back and forth
of forces far greater than I

The awe-inspiring grandeur
of the undulating sea
brings a deep sense of peace
I've been holding my breath

What’s Left

There is still beauty that pushes through
the tiny cracks in hard concrete paths
the sun still hangs glorious behind 
the gentle clouds passing by unrushed
above the congested cacophony of highway

All this light pollution cannot obliterate
every star behind our protective veil of atmosphere
this tender blue sphere still swirls through space
defying the empty vacuum with precious life
despite a history of catastrophic cataclysms 

It's better to keep breathing for something small
than to be choked by the bitter absence of
all that I once believed to be possible
better to attempt to rise to the challenge
of finding small pockets of pleasure in pain

Sometimes I think my soul is crushed
and given back to the cool soil so that
I can be grounded once again in simplicity
and experience the soft energy of starting over
with fresh tiny tendrils of humble roots

Looking Inside

The blank page is a practice
of reaching deep within
to see what lies in the shadows
behind your heart, suspended
on the other side of silence

Some days you'll find it flooded
a pressure valve in need of release
other days a smooth wall with no seams
a concrete caste that's settled over everything
impenetrable, cold, and cruel cocoon

Some days writing is as easy
as stepping into the stream
of liquid emotion flowing freely
tracing the contours and shadows
of an aching that appears in living color

Some days it takes a chisel
to search for cracks in thick cement
an uncomfortable effort to uncover
the clumsy, crude impressions
of a crippled and cringing unconscious

Unprompted outpourings of an overflowing heart
contrasted with a stiffness that contracts the soul
unable to predict which familiar state awaits me
as I sit down dutifully to endure
whoever I am today


I've never mastered the mercy
of letting something die
fear compels me to keep
a cold corpse animated
with artificial light 

Clinging to a casket ensures
I won't ever come to learn
what else life has to offer
but I feel too unworthy
to ask for anything more

There is no energy left inside
for seeking rising suns
settling for a soft hand to hold
as the darkness of night descends
seems all I can manage

Still that hot ember inside remains
more and more often sparking into flame
threatening to devour any illusion
I may choose to cling to for small comfort
whipped up by the wind of all that's ingenuine

Searching for deeper answers beneath
the one that keeps surfacing
unable to decide my own suffering
a life spent floating restlessly down-river
when will the ocean finally come?