Salt Bearer

a shadow from the past
cast upon a new life
a dream in the shape of you
ashes and dust be gone

exorcise this demon
feasting on the soul
crammed within Pandora’s box
left to be forgotten

haunting the mind
brushing up against the landscape
leaving your scent behind
a lingering trail of memory

like a slug
leaving mucous in its wake
tainting the path
with residue – a sticky slime

tracking your every move
we come with salt and lime
shriveling and poisoning
at once existence to nothingness



Fighting the Inbox

a to-do list a mile long
emails pouring in
each one adding
to the already overwhelming pile
of things that must be done

every day I fight this inbox
whittling away at each new task
only to return and find
more email in the box

time should come with
pause, stop. rewind

I often think of the absurdity
that someday I will be dead
and those emails will likely still pour in
at least then I won’t have to dig myself out
from beneath the ever-deepening pile

Cosmic Spider

She weaves a universal web
connecting stars, sun, and moon.
Silky ties to a world beyond ourselves.

We’re connected just as the galaxies
hold together with invisible strands.
If we trace our web through
time and space –
we find our past, present, and future
along its course.

This is how our lives become
so entangled as to depend
upon each other.

Casting out lines,
in hopes of snagging
tiny bits of intimacy
another soul’s connection
hanging by a thread.

We dangle there
frozen in time until
the ripples of contact subside.

That which we catch
can destroy all we’ve built,
or nourish our souls –
weaving the tapestry of life.

We are mere fractals
of our cosmic spider
as she devours us
one by one.

Fair Warning

Relationships should come with
warning signs,
but what’s the fun in that?

Knowing how it would be
lacks discovery of self and
each other; things you might pass
up if you knew.

Putting our best foot forward
then taking two steps back,
a dance, fluid in motion.

Mistake,learn,and hopefully
forgiveness and redemption;
running away and holding tight

seemingly opposite ends
of the spectrum. Fair warning!

You’ll always be
searching for the right way
to save each other.


these small candles
float in a sea of black ink
miles from shore

specks of light
in a night dark world
bobbing with the current

provoking acknowledgment,
our diminutive nature
in contrast to raw power,
the forces of nature

yet humans’ belief
fallible skill and wisdom
attempt to tame and harness
these forces, bend them
as to their will

whether fools or daring
adventurers be,
we embark boldly upon
these small candles
afloat in the sea of night

Subjects of Paintings

trees and dew drops
things that capture my mind
stillness, quiet, and solitude
of night

the lake with its reeds and its willows,
islands, and naked ladies on cliffs…
the bay with shorebirds, cord grass marshes,
fiddler crabs and
barnacle encrusted terrapins
to my delight

but images of my heavy heart I reserve
solely to be painted with words
it’s what the world cannot see
and only I can describe


Pyrotechnic Life

gunpowder and a chemical mixture
flaring bright across the sky
a dance of sparks
lighting up the night

we sit upon a hilltop blanket
entranced by the display
only speaking again when
the acrid smoke dissipates
and the ringing in our ears ceases

I’ve seen this from above
as well as below
it’s much quieter at 30,000 feet
perhaps eerily so

the explosive sounds which
correspond fall silent from up above
and perhaps this also mutes
the emotional impact

and I wonder at the definitions
explosive display of brilliance,
anger, or energy…
versus gunpowder and combustible chemicals

aren’t we, afterall, combustible?
we burn bright and fizzle out in the end
all our anger, passion, and energy
at once spent, wafting through the air
as the sulfuric smell lingers on the wind
the pyrotechnics of life




(a.k.a. my anxiety)

And that’s what anxiety does
seeping in slowly,
imperceptibly at first.
Maybe it tickles your insecurities…

Then suddenly spirals downward into panic
lighting fire to everything in your path
because if you don’t, then it’ll just be
destroyed anyway, so what’s the point?

It sits on your chest and burns it’s way through
like acid eating away
and you can’t break free. You wrestle with it
and it pins you to the ground, all the while
crying, “mercy!”

Even when you can’t take it anymore
it persists in gnawling at your bones.
And when you think it’s finally through with you…
it comes back for round two.

The scortching burn firing through
your veins, searing each and every
nerve along the way,
shock collar of the damned.

And when it ceases, it merely
spits you out into a vast ocean of lost
and alone,
no matter how not alone you are.
It clouds your vision and continues
to churn within your stomach.

And this, is what anxiety does.

The Gate

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The gate is open; won’t you come in?
It beckons as you pass, enticing in its mystery.
Whispering your name, you wonder how it knows.

Curiosity tugs at the hem of your skirt
a small child, wanting for attention
leading you by the hand to show you.

Crossing the threshold bears a sense of significance
though you know not why; like stepping beyond the walls of a city
you once thought you knew so well into a new hidden recess.
Your heart skips a beat, excited by adventure, it knows no fear.

A chill rushing down your spine
tiny fragments of movement
skirt the periphery of your vision

With rapt focus and attention
tiny webs made visible by grace
of moonlight shining
sing sweetly to your memory,
a forgotten lullaby perhaps?

These webs, no ordinary orb weavers dream;
made of crystalline shimmers
mesmerizing and ghostly
as they dance with the breeze.

As the gate creaks closed behind,
much as you knew it would,
you wonder if you’ll ever leave.
Somewhere in the darkness, a voice
answers the thought with an echo,”if you so wish.”

Stepping forward, gazing steadily
ahead, the newly cleared path
lined with trees branches out
in the leaf-strewn distance.

Knowing only that you are meant
to follow this trail,
you reach behind you
to lock the gate.




Gone Missing

trying to break bonds
just to prove a point
so many times dying to give in

like holding your breath
breathing is not weakness
still too stubborn to gasp for air

drowning in silence
nature seeping into cracks
patchwork at best
and all I’d share if not
for honoring the silence

you’ve gone missing
leaving a trail of doubts
unanswered questions
and too much silence