Find a Sun


in the


of brave

do we feel



what drives



the fire?

Find a sun

to rotate around

so that you can create

your own life.

This world

couldn’t exist

any other way.

Go There

Find that place

where space

is endless.

Breathe your love into that world,

and rest your heart.

And then,

create that which is most true

for you.

The art of the universe lies

in the infinite possibilities

of your imagination.

Go there and dream, my friend.

We welcome you always.

Stars cannot see their own constellations

and connections are invisible to those involved.

You must trust there is another,

connecting us to each other.

You don’t have to see it to believe it.


if you must–

look up.


is reflecting you.

Before You

Before you is hard to remember.

I cannot seemingly separate myself

from who I was and

who I am now. Or even how long I will stay this way.

Those folks on park benches, observing the

world through accents and footnotes

might see me differently–

a subtle release of the shoulders or

a loosing of the jaw. All just revelations I refute in the mirror to myself.


perhaps the world has changed.

Perhaps, everything else

has changed

except me.

This notion feels both isolating

and empowering,

reminiscent of love I suppose.

Before you, I held the future

like a wallflower held a dance.

But you threw it at me nevertheless.

And I ate it and puked it up.

And laughed and rolled

in its beauty,

and the mess of my becoming.

Before you, I cannot seem to remember

how deeply I feared myself and

what it meant to avoid my gifts.

Before you, the edge of my life

was my death. My own chosen escape.

Always waiting with patience.

Before you, I was a son of a bitch in ways I thought

I was great. This was a sad, and now laughable, misconception.

And all of this rubs me the wrong way,

it feels strange to say before you,

because all those folks with folded arms may see my shoulders

differently. And they are not wrong–no one is.

To them you were never really here.

But to me, you will never really leave.

One Day

One day this body will fail me,

these feet will fall to the ground

like shoes by the door

after work.

This mind of mine

will wander to places

no one can follow.

These eyes will look glazed over

in a glare

of oblivion.

I won’t remember you perhaps?

This will make you cry.

One day, someone will not

recognize me.


it will be you.

If you look in all these places

for me, I will not be there.

You’ll have to remember.

And you will forget.

It’s okay.

One day, time will have its way with me

and I will only exist in you,

as a memory of the heart.

I’m writing poems now

to remind you



There are moments,

and in them they hold everything.

Like currents flowing around corners of canopied forests.

Smoothing rocks and rusting metals,

carrying things back to before

they began.

A sacred seed reborn,

traveling beyond the distance of its own death.

A lilting leaf afloat, alive,

breathing its own life from inside.

All these things

disappear into a darkness.

All these things

create something new.

A moment holds everything

you’ve ever asked for.

Ask it anything now–

it answers, always,


A Blanket

She claims all people.

She lies out like a blanket

for me,

offering her warmth

if I wish.

Or I can

howling at the moon.

It does not phase her grace.

Either way,

she will always be there.



like the music


silence can carry.


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