Poetry

06/25/96-03/23/23

in

My brother
Michael is dead.
I danced around him
In a blue tutu as children.
I snuck him sweet chocolate
And we rode the rocking horse.
Our parents took us to the zoo,
He was always smiling, my silly,
Sarcastic, sensitive little brother.
He could not speak but he spoke
My name when we were children.
He taught me the wordless gift of
intuition and what the spirit world was like.
We would watch his eyes and know that he
Was dancing with the angels in divine light.

Oh Brother, I Love You So

in

Oh brother, I love you so

We shared more than blood,

We shared a light-filled soul.

An ineffable bond I could not know,

Not truly until you went back home.

But now that you’re there, 

I sense your presence everywhere.

I feel the thread between your soul and mine,

One day we will dance together in the great divine.

Blue swirls drown my soul

in

Blue swirls drown my soul

As we sit and wait for the unknown toll.

I anguish in a green taxi waiting in traffic -

I see the beauty in her mismatched outfit.

The pain of your death is searing

And yet somehow it helps me see more clearly.

All that is real, true and worth the most

Is that which no man or mind can compose.

We have to be our own sunshine

in

“How Infectious!”

Infection!

Get the jab or die!

FEAR! DIVISION! ANGER! 

(The changing faces of suffering)

What has happened to this world?

He was only talking about

The infectious affect

Of her radiant smile.

She told him, 

“With a world as dark as ours,

We have to be our own sunshine.”

Let the more loving one be me

in ,

THE MORE LOVING ONE
by W.H. Auden

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

(From The Marginalian)

Mind's Edge

in ,

Walk to the edge of your mind,

Find the feeling of that edge -

Your feet teetering towards the teeming unknown,

The ground giving way to emptiness.

Now, JUMP.

Only those who have lost themselves completely

may hope to understand who they truly are.

She Dreamed of Eight Moons

in ,
 

Eight moons encircled us in the night sky above

As I stood in the heart of a familiar forest.

Every pearl slowly revealed herself after the last,

Clear yet veiled by a familiar mystic design.

The radiance of a boiling star passed as she spoke,

“true wisdom lies beneath the illusion of distinctions.”

We awoke in the luminous shade of Crescent street,

I could not find the moon for she became me.

She Dreamed of Eight Moons (I and II), 2022, Limited Edition Lenticular
Photographs, Multiple Sizes Available, Shop HERE

 

The Shape of the Moon

in ,
 

The Shape of The Moon (Self-Portrait, NYC, 2022)

She is vulnerable yet indestructible, resilient and soft, visible but hidden, shrouded in a luminous mystery of her own soul’s design. The moon lives alone in darkness yet loneliness nor fear overtake her. She journeyed through hidden worlds to find the all knowing light of love, and in the end she discovered that what she sought was in herself. The moon does not seek, but reveals, does not attach, but flows in the tides of her own gravity. So I took up the path to search for her light, only to feel her warm presence glowing from my soul.

(Published in Helix, Issue 06, 2022, Istanbul. View excerpts from this publication below and view the full virtual issue here)

Excerpts from Helix, Issue 06 (Left image is available for purchase as a print here)

She Dreamed of Eight Moons

in ,

Eight moons encircled us in the night sky above

As I stood in the heart of a familiar forest.

Every pearl slowly revealed herself after the last,

Clear yet veiled by a familiar mystic design.

The radiance of a boiling star passed as she spoke,

“true wisdom lies beneath the illusion of distinctions”.

We awoke in the luminous shade of Crescent street,

I could not find the moon for she became me.

From my newest series She Dreamed of Eight Moons (Purchase prints here)

A Crow Landed Onto a Nest...

in ,
 

Print available for purchase here

A crow landed onto a knot of loosely hanging wires,

his head cunningly in search of the mother.

Seeing no one, he darts into the tiny makeshift nest

tucked between an apartment window and rusted security bars.

The innocent white egg stands out against the thief’s black coat

as he flies through the twilight, noticeably conscious of his guilt.

The mother returns, still as a just-shattered heirloom

before collecting her pieces to race out in the direction of the crow.