viewing yourself

open your eyes 

after your heart 

wipe away the sleep 

crusted over sorrow 

look in the mirror 

with your heart first 

to then see with your eyes 

the love that is you



stretch in salutation to the sun 

soak in the shine 

stand in her song 

chorus of her morning calls 

kissing your fingertips 

caressing your character 

for love is always 

all ways for all things 

good morning

there’s not a day

there’s not a day

since recognizing your heart

as that which I have always known

maybe from another time and place

pulled from the cobblestone

or the dusty fire road

I carried it with me

through the years from times of old

until the moment it circled

looping back upon it’s tail

chasing in endless pursuit

to find it whole in join


there’s not a day

I haven’t thought about you

of the holes in the clouds

meandering over our heads

to allow the sun’s rays

passage through and onto calm waters

in the heat of the wake

washing wading feet

free of the gritty sand


there’s not a day

I don’t wish for your hand to be free

and your desire to reach for me

through the rains pouring down

taking me under your umbrella of hope

unafraid to pull me close

for both of us to stay dry

in the warmth of each other’s arms

painted wings

if I paint you on the tips of feathers, 

gold and azure strokes of pigment,

before sending my homing pigeon out 

with his message of love 

carried through the wounded world 

can I be promised in his return to me 

he will have dripped the memories of you 

off the plumes of his beating wings 

into the ocean of forever? 

or will he return 

crested in the dried dye of nostalgia 

covered still in the enamel of fondness

only to molt at my feet 

leaving for me never to rid of 

thoughts of you?


I learned long ago

before I ever studied great religions

that integrity

whispers sweet nothings

as you drift off to sleep

allowing rest to come easy

even amongst pain

inflicted from those very decisions


the right thing

will always be that

and no amount of self talk

can convince my soul

that wrong

is right