I'm just beginning to remember there is
no language for me to speak
untaught and unspoken,
reaching for no right words,
letting no word be wrong,
an accident of joyful breath
falling between cracks
between your lips
or mine
or
where ours meet.

I dreamed I was somewhere like Narragansett Beach or Scarborough Sea Cliffs ( Read more... )

There's a wind that's blowing

It's not whispering nor screaming

but it's persistent and cold.

I said

There's a wind blowing

whispering or screaming

whipping past

cold and chilly ears.

Yet,

there's a silence overwhelming,

inexplicably alone,

afraid and quiet,

the tumultuous depths roiling

under the surface

where the wind grazes.

I said

there's a wind

but ( Read more... )

I can't return to a home I once knew ( Read more... )

there is no emptiness to cling to ( Read more... )

you taste like a dark alley,
and you smell like smoke
on an airplane;
you will be burnt and hurt;
but
we will make balance;
for i am a profane god
come to consort with you:
a whole and sacred mortal

I can leave your heart's nothingness ( Read more... )

Our soul is a rift between two mountains
the things we can clearly see
or reach
but there is no way across.

(A reversal of an original poetic)
(as follows, by Chris Cole/disembodied poetics):

our body is a bridge between two worlds
those things you thought were lost
are waiting
and transport is arranged

Obliterating pain with pain ( Read more... )

the light swirls over your head,
a galaxy of consciousness,
the cannon of life
born from nothing.

the future that wasn't,
the past that will never be,
these places are forgotten
in the times of memory.

and the celestial starlight
frozen in a moment
when you can see light
on its way
time standing still
holds you together.