Thoughts in my throat

On days like these
my mind is a vagabond-

I seek content in what I do
not know, cleave to the

Often slip, stumble
make mistakes too, inevitably

It’s not what befalls per se
but how we speak about it after
that shapes memory and who we are [not]
in the minds of those who care;
brings closure and me closer
to you, perhaps

And that appeases me too
in the strangest way possible
as we move further.

Bill Viola, "The Encounter" (2012)


the afterlight adrift

                                        boat turns to bark
                                        the afterlight adrift


morning light peels off the doorframe

spills inside the promise of being here, now, another day
a bowl of holiness splashed on the marbled floor, for me
to walk across this door on consecrated sky-grounds, barefoot 
like newly baptized step into the world. i am grateful
for what it was and what is not
and for what i trust, tomorrow holds. 


horse of a gypsy

you can never know if she'll kiss or bite you first. until it happens.
then again, it is the only way she knows how to love.