Tag Archives: love and fear

Call Them Lost

Call them lost. Don’t call Someone who creates a reality that isn’t real and then talks about it a liar… Call them lost. Color them blind. Help them catch their breath by not breathing damnation that covers their tracks more … Continue reading

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Know Silence Between the Rocks

In a quiet place that exists between the rocks, a man sits in a circle of arm and leg… waits for the world to pass overhead. People he’s never met on a path he’ll never take won’t ever know what’s … Continue reading

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Love is a place you can’t leave

It’s a place where most of us will not live, only visit.  There is a reality there, like a foreign country.  A different language is spoken.  When you settle in there, and act like the locals, you will find yourself … Continue reading

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Being Human

Sometimes you have to give up. It’s an exhale from all the times you won’t. Sometimes the floor is your best friend, down there at the bottom is where you make peace out of the pieces you’ve been carrying. When … Continue reading

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And Then Shall You Pray

My past is a pillow of rock a bed in a lost moraine. Nature brings goods to ends never seen again. And what do we make of the undoers? To those who unwind the threads that hold together good lives … Continue reading

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Perhaps A Feast

I am afraid that you’ll set it down somewhere you won’t remember. Because when we do with what we can’t live with the same that we do with things we can live without the line between them fails in discerning … Continue reading

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Poetry: Just Like Me

I have never owned a thought. They’ve always  been borrowed from people just like me. I have never owned  the truth. It’s a free flow a let go a tap tap tapping at the window saying “look outside now and … Continue reading

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Poetry: An Image

There’s promises that you’ll never keep. There’s a pardon waiting that’s buried deep. How can this moment keep becoming the past? How does slow become so fast? I want oceanic I want skyness I want earthtones and intergalactic. I want … Continue reading

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Poetry: Where I Am Always Pointing

This writing isn’t writing. It’s righting. Things become right when I write. As things become right when my spine lays right up against a particular tree in that swale in the forest. My life rights itself when my bare feet … Continue reading

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Poetry: Speaking of God (In the Third Person)

Invisible to all save for those who are likewise invisible to all. Everyone still speaks of God in the third person. Countermanded and slung on the underbelly of a stagecoach I ride through town glad to be unseen. Unshaken by prospects … Continue reading

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