Within Lungs

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within lungs

she wanted his words

mossed inside a jar

safe— so no one

could touch them

she wanted the moon’s laugh

and she needed it’s shadow

she wanted the spurn of

the song from a sparrow

yet grandmother told her

that there was only one way

to breathe all of them in,

writing her lungs

with the moon,

with it’s shadow,

with his words,

with stones, glass, water and fire

where they could dance freely

in and out of her body

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Religion of the Garden

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religion of the garden

what ever may happen in life

happens in the garden

a seed planted

a lovely flower bloomed

cutting off the old leaves

to allow the new to grow

we dry seed

we sow

we add a little blood

to help it grow

to support it

and once its flourishing

it produces many extraordinary things

and in revival and salvation

we must continue in the circles and cycles

to cut off our dead leaves

and plant new seed





to oxegenate your cells

your mind

swim in the sunlight

bathe in the moon

baptise your body in rain

in the flourish of the fields, and flowers

find your salvation in your own soul

there the river flows


that is where the paint, the words, the colors, truth

come from





i want to be rich

i want to die rich

i don’t need money

it has no meaning

i just want to be rich with feeling

to be drunk with sleep from a honey hive

full with sweetness of singing 

feet kissed by soil that stuck to your soles 

from all the running down hilltops

hair entwined with seaweed

rich with knowledge of what its like 

to taste the warmth of healing in your bones

rich with giving

sashaying pieces of light 

like mosaics winking at the bottom of the ocean

for all of my riches will one day resurface

and meet a different shore

How to Drink Like a Man

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how to drink like a man


let me show you how to drink like a man

take the wind in the troth of your lungs and wait for the pass of praise

sink thirst within your throat into the scent of summer

the distinct sultry sanctum of that blue, lavender air

lay your unheeding body at the mouth of the green river and let it 

drink you in

within the ocean, let the salt be the mouthwash for all these meaningless words

come into the wild, boy and get drunk from nature’s draft



Three Eyes Open


three eyes open

a ring upon my forehead, it stains between my two eyes

i can sense and feel like a serpent 

swaying outward




imposes the door wide open

sitting upright, chakras aligned

sending the crown to the sky

a little tuning and its ready to play

the third eye opens

and the rays expand

lightning forces over land

stars collect to take their hands

my clarity expands into oneness

and connects every trace together

tying hearts of the wolf to the bear

the fish to the crab

the lilacs to the moon

and the crystals to the sea

with all eyes open

i am able to hear all forces collectively

they gather in tune in a harmonic symphony…


The Mountains Prose A Worthy Question


the mountains prose a  worthy question

do you live life through the external providence of teacups and rubies?

or internal planetary symphony…

our your decisions made through councils outside?

or do you listen to the tapping at your heart…

do you study the wind in your lungs…

or forget that it’s there?

do you search seas for water

or resurrect the birthplace of dreams…

in truth of question, living without experiencing is justly worse then death