Forget yourself in the shower outside and be free. Sleep next to the waves, inside the sea, bedded, wedded, be.



Arising out the corner of my heart, shining.
Eyes cannot find light without being
first blinded.
In my happiness, a young phoenix
charcoal-kissed, singing in darkness.
I kick-jumped toward you
and missed.
I missed you.

Sand thrown and thumbs bitten; hands ripped and head torn,
a world run and still you lie
in my heart-bed with zero function
a painful genius refusing to die.

Golden rule and ratio; an ocean of silence exposing you.
If this midnight lo-phi creates
a healing prism
let the great earth shift and ripple
to that Eden prison so I can take back the key
and undo it.

Now exploding everything I touch
like clay statues in a row under a thousand leagues.
Like a soiled dove on Eve's ledge I had already fallen
but this love I rest in
a pillow vessel into silent galaxies.

I saw it finally, arising out of the corner of my heart, shining.
Levitating and rotating, a radiant white conch perfect bliss in blue light.
A purity overcoming the verse of she into union with midnight He.

This sun flare will explode you into infinity
if you could see.
If you could see it and touch it and feel it, and know it.
If you could look this in the eye you'd come running to die
in its midnight light.


 Wailua, Kauai

Wailua, Kauai


To the man who can't yet see behind this mask I must tell you
there's no one here. 
This plaster is a pink shell that holds the ocean.
To the man who can't yet see beyond his reflection in the lake, 
perhaps he can intuit from the soft embrace of moonlight lash
and the true water his fingers touch.
To the man who sees only in the brutality of subject-object
know that you will only consume and destroy the desired endgame of your search.

To the man in love with the realm of changes I lay next to you in comfort during the shifts.
To the man who thinks he speaks to her above, she says no, sir, then you have not seen me.

Language rests in a lie. We must find a way to speak to the heart directly.
Art+Peace must speak where we otherwise cannot hear. I have no name. The perfect heart does not speak of perfect things. I crave this and live in ignorance.

Like your forearm I am that familiar. 
Whispering in your ear a soft wake up.
Wake up, darling. We are home now.
My sweet lord, do not leave.

When fear dissolves I am always alone with you, in the sunlight sheets. 
How free we kiss on the sea of blankets. 
When fear returns I long for you. Come back to me, forget that cage. I could scream about my cage, sometime, if it returns. 
Don't tell the lie of the lotus eater. I will shatter in two.

To the man who can't yet see, perhaps he can feel.  Roll the stone in love of what's Real.
I am in love with you.
To the man who does not yet know himself most fully do not believe anything that causes fear. It is not true.
To the man who thinks I am writing to him, I am not. You wrote this and speak this too.
To the man who can't yet see behind this mask I must tell you there is no one here but you.
She does not exist. Neither do you.
I wrote this to myself. I want to wake up. I dreamt you! I want to wake up.

To the man who can see me he knows I've been his lover this whole time.
To the man who can see me he locates me and does not let me out of his sight.
To the man who sees me I am the only thing he sees no matter where he looks.
To the man who sees me he cannot think of any other thing to do.
To the man who sees me he loves me instantly on the spot and can never feel lonely again.

Love You.



You break my heart in halves of mind.

Amongst all this witching your peaches don’t smile so soft

like they did in meadowed green, counties far from here.
And the scarecrows are bitten by dogs who don’t know the difference.

Now out in the Lau, strange addictions prism through the rust of a cracked mirror.
I do the prayer of changes as the tide sharps the jet inside. 

I can’t make it seem appealing.

I look for ways to fix this; hum the careful melodies familiar to all eyes,

but there’s nothing to be gained by playing that game.

Give it to me so that there’s something to do during these hours of witch
and all the piles of seaweed to sort through make no mind of me.