Letter to Lost Souls- (Those who have not yet given theirs away and therefore appear lost to those who have),

Tend to the dirt of misgivings. Risk the persecution of dominants and denigrates for the splendid maintenance of your compassion. Cherish your soft and changing flesh in this pixelated landscape of depravity ~ Empties offing themselves with 3bits of vacuous sleek. Trading skin for safety.

Keep your flesh alive. Tend soil with bare feet and tears. Attract shame with your dragonfly belly. When they forget their heart and reach to strike you, blow them a gentle dandelion wish. Defeat them with your stillness as their churning parts futilely shear into shrapnel. Your innocence is unbreakable.

Tend to your sparking cells. Distract them with your shimmering tears. An oceanic vessel of grief swells within you as you watch them suck light.

~ Sand grinds through delicate pink ducts,
sore and infected from forced consumption of visions obese with cruelty.

This tiny aperture of compassion
~ made to feel its delicate portal suffocate time
-now turned tyrant-
abscessed and obsessed with the pillaging of hope,
shoving its swollen harm into you.

Empty yourself of this, day by day. Tend soil with bare feet and tears.

Your compassion is their weakness. They crave the sweetness of your heart, seething with empathy. Euphoric on your essence they become deaf to the spit and split of their own atoms – whipping out a final, exasperated clinch on their pathos. Your cries blaze victorious against their blood and curdle. A city is built upon broken heart bones. Structures bound with the ash of a fire burned out.

You won’t get me. I won’t ever let you. You tempt me with this false and impossible plea to save you, but you’re committed. Heart and beat turned metal and code. At the final pinnacle of my liberation you’ve distracted me. My perseverance gives way to your warmth for I have been so cold. Words of endearment smell of methane and I am tricked by this slow and deliberate churning of human to machine. We reach hands through sharp unmovable ribs, find embrace and breathe. How could we let this happen again? What is this overwhelming obsession to annihilate human love and bury innocence so deep into a pit of shame we are assured no resurrection?

We hold a flame in the dark – our unwavering Phoenix. This is not our chosen game but it is yours and we will play. We will win. Laugh as you pull twine from parrot dolls. We spin silk. Worms – breathing, kneading soil.

I dig at my own tenderness. Cry out this shame. I see the sun through the dirt of my premature grave. I resurrect precise stalks of green and water and bloom a yellow flower. I turn my petals to summer snow and scream out a wish, as you protest ~ yourself.



There’s a tidal wave coming for you,
silently brewing drag deep underneath your cool composure.
Don’t fear, your best moments are to come:
Fluorescent bleached shock cushioned by a softness so heavy,
it compels you to the ocean floor where your moment of creation lies in a heap of eroded treasure.
Collapse into centripetal bliss
as you dive, eyes open and stinging
into a proverbial riptide of growth,
spun off by the soul’s cold war between
maintenance and transcendence.
A ravenous dragon, devouring
every remaining, fragile connection between
human and cruelty.
Come now
Be kind
Devour yourself into yourself
until there is nothing left but a raw reaching for
the greatest love you have never had the courage to sustain.

Illogical Flight


Delirium slumber


no space of breath

or scream

to lift the weight of other’s burdens

i feel



and reach.

 its a heavyweight disaster zone, complete with catalog and invitation

sleek all sides




I suffocate under the weight.

for a pinhole i search grow to expand into nothingness vast

to you i yield                                                                                                                                                 bottom down                                                                                                                                             into this surrender

beckon i to myself


enough and loud

go tiny space get through


faster and faster

too fast                                                                  -break now Illogical Flight

Beautiful Nothing


There is a temptation, as my grip on this reality slips greatly, to hold on.  to hold on to that which i have never believed for fear of vacancy.  a netless fall from the perceived path.  how long will i hold on, how long will i try to make it work in a broken field.  perhaps not much longer now.  i feel all ties to identities of consciousness, packed into bodies – release.  i feel all connection to strain release.  i feel all tension relax and all direction vanish.  all i know is – there is more.  there is more and i release and relax myself into that place.  i release all impressions of what this would be like.  i release all impressions of my past and future.  i release my belief and agreements with the “laws” of this world.  i recognize the expanse and here i breathe deeply, freely, open my heart to the mystery and welcome the unknown, that which i seek.  4:11


razor thin.

the ocean.


in the middle of silence.

like light

taking all of the dark.

you speak 

in the middle of my silence

and i cannot hear 

the ocean

inside my head.

i cannot feel

the cut,

nor guide precision.

this is exacting,



as time crumbles 

under scrutiny

i follow

the falling of apartness,

trace the echo

of god’s first sound

back to approximate







Love Massive

Heart on Fire

We~ as Human Beings have become a commodity. Forced to sell ourselves, promote ourselves like we’re the next radio hit,  to survive in a world bent on keeping us imprisoned.  We are a race of people fighting – silently, smiling – for our lives, for our art, for our souls.  We have become afraid of each other, afraid of what can be taken from us when we have so little.  Faced with the constant pressure to make ends meet, we are, more often than not, forced to choose the acquisition of money over our truth, passion and genius.  This world, up to now,  has been crafted in a way which opposes our very nature. For ages upon ages,  warriors, artists, musicians, people of all ages and craft have been fighting and praying for individual and collective freedom.  We will not and cannot give up now after all we have been through.  I can feel the temptation in my own soul to surrender: “its no use, I’ll never make it”.  There’s always something- another bill too large, another absent-minded mistake, another environmental disaster looming on the edge of the pacific, but no.  I will not give up.  I’d be dead alive.  The love I feel for my partner, my family, my friends, my people is too deep and driving.  The shining in your eyes when I see you and you see me, too bright and beautiful to ignore.  In some singular moment each of us has been outed as something amazing and miraculous.  I know this to be true. This amazing miracle is too important to hide.  No matter what comes our way we can stretch our hearts big enough to turn it all into love.  This is a reason to grow, to become super.heroes.  Everyday, my heart washes clean its bitter tears and I muscle through, convince myself I have time to get it right, to beat this machine that drives our society into the ground. Perhaps we can win that ultimate battle but true victory will not be had by fighting but by Being.  Being who we are meant to be in a free world.

So I play the songs in my heart.  Music is the only way I can bear this heartbreaking world.  I cannot turn my eyes, I cannot pretend.  I feel our enslavement dying everyday as our freedom gets stronger.  I feel us all bright and brave, with massive love to give.  We are all the warriors, gentle spirits, the ones we have been looking for.   This music, my path is one of many.  Evidence of the power of the heart.  My heart comes in the form of song.  I am here to share my heart with you.  Give it to the world and say, We are not giving up.  We are here to be free, now!  Free to create, to love, to have clean food and water and beautiful shelter.    To have grass to stick our feet in and a free mind.  To know the truth of who we are.  We are not mere mortals.  We are all of great power, infinite power, power greater than the worst disaster ever concocted.  We are consciousness – beings that created beings and our love is the most precious force in all the galaxies.  This ability to love, to feel for others, to care deeply, is what we have always been fighting for.  I am not giving up.  I am getting stronger, and deeper and I will love more and more and more until we are all free from suffering.  We are not commodities.  There is no need to sell ourselves or prove how valuable we are.  We are the ultimate value because we are made of love. We are enough just because we are.  Know that.  I will know that.  And Together we will build a world where Love is law.


consummation of moments to battle lack. space. grief of unknown proportion.  i fear a shadow is hidden here in my very eye, tempering each vision gray.  tracking for true, i skip pixels on the horizon and remember what smooth was, unbroken color along a bright cold sky. now fortune holds promises of peace and attainment, yet moments break forgotten.  now for the last fortune fall through all the “un”known.  fantasies of saviors and angels now leave me flat.  i find my truth in the palm of your hand on the back of my neck.  its fashionable to say the world is changing and we are waking up:  gasoline on a weak engine: skip to go: start again. i fear there’s a shadow in my very eye, a world too close to even see for its wicked tendrils lie within and our vulnerability will be. savior and angel.  so tell me sweet one and i tell you,  how broken it feels to live, day to day, when the only thing i ever want to do is fan sweet moments of love consummate and shed tear on bitter truth.  i for one, don’t buy it….this pixelated version of a life placated by fortune.  i will not. skip to go: start anew no shadow found. this exists. bring it to me so i may drink its sweet sick fortune into my blood and turn it to something as true as.

the palm of your hand on the back of my neck