Monthly Archives: November 2013



There is nowhere I would rather spend the morning of my life than beneath the twilight shadow of a mountain.



Before and behind
atop and astride
a cycle of stairs in cities of sand,
Where contemptuous ceilings
rise from fervent floors.

We sow
upon fickle dunes of sand
where rolling waves
coax oceans of broken stone,

where beasts laugh and curse
between dry meals of dirt,
their footprints resting
upon the restless ground.

Beneath an ancient, stubborn roof
a design upon liquid stone:

crawling and climbing
squeezing and squirming
past a house of tattered cloth,
where wind leads sand to dance
before severe and stoic gates
Seen by our closing eyes

What are we to become?
A vision blocked by sight?
A breath strangled by venomous air?
A dream smothered in its sleep?

We are the architects of our past
Of buildings we’ve yet to build.
Let them study
the beauty of our ruin
beneath the shifting sands.




The day has a hole torn in the center
where memories,
amiable and cruel,
come pouring out
to rest upon this crown of masks.

It cannot be crumbling bones
which are bathed in such holy water.

It cannot be withering flesh
which is honored by such ablutions.

Was it our hearts that taught us rhythm?
Do our stomachs incite ambition?
Do our feet preach humility?

Surely we have learned to lust.

Where is it that I hear the echoes of your laughter?
Where is it that I feel the phantom of your touch?

My skull is such a grisly place
to keep such joy.

Born a blank space,
how have we become what we are?


Curiosity is not a teacher but a lover,
with patterns as our children.


There is a loneliness so audacious
it makes itself felt in crowds.

How is it that we can be friends
in the face of such truth?

How is it that we can be strangers,
living such elaborate lies?

A graceful breath trapped in a bubble,
surely we must be more,
for you have drawn your presence
upon white space,
and in the mirror
I have seen your smile.

Shasta 2013

The cities are so busy
where nothing happens.

The change is so slow,
and so violent,
where we blur
and blend
and belch.

Escape it in a heartbeat
Escape it for a breath

My feet have left their mark
on this trackless trail,
forgotten by white hot,
burning ice.

where caves crawl down
from the birthplace of stone,
light becomes an icy sigh.

And I become a promise.

Where we weep beneath a bleeding sky
of swift and peaceful change.