Lambs and lions frolic on my crown

teasing, taunting

promising, punishing


Even so, it is time to Remember

Fickle or not, she will be loved

rooting down

sprouting out

blushing Spring





photo bu S.M.

photo by S.M.


I am too high and far to rest now


I’ll take plenty of Space

and kiss every inch of it with red-stained lips

or die trying


If this is some test

I’m just Love


needy and lacking plausible deniability or social graces


The plain truth sometimes is greener through rose glass

or none at all –

I can’t say

I can’t say I look with my eyes



I am not presenting myself for debate
I am but fact,
in fact
Greedy and selfish
tending my own affairs
Deconstructing the repository of admiration
and breaking your heart
My Siren’s Song mingled in the exultation
of so many Lost-In-Time voices on the wind
dealt one final blow in the name of Love
And risen in Joy





With sandy feet

From desert to sea

We trudge, gallop, dance, meander

To the un-rhythmic melody

Of broken hearts and hands

Seeking and crafting too much Nothing


Rippling bodies

Of water

Overrun one another and each of us in a desperate desire

To cleanse our sin

And quench us with the simplest Fact


What hardship is this, now imagined

Which curving hip set a-swaying

To Love’s rightful song cannot banish?

None, should we rise

And set

In cobalt Truth



Last Hoorah

by S.M.

by S.M.

This house in the trees is constructed of aching wood and
the woodpeckers are foraging for brunch
With a subconscious tap, tap, tap
On the right hemisphere of my brain and in the upper left chamber of my heart

I’ve been desiring Light
But refusing to open my eyes for so long
That I taught myself to re-imagine Vision
Not knowing the Light poured from me all the while

I will surrender to Hope and Salvation, of course
Once I’ve ridden-out the Dread
and my Dream has dragged me most of the way toward fruition
Kicking and screaming and singing and feeling Everything