sit me down and tell me
why and when do you stir

There Is Joy Here

there is joy here
in my hand
a hand fully soiled
by the living earth, which offers me her story.

her happiness is the old soul's happiness
glad to recount
her eyes closed, breast drawn back in breaths,
the story of her time here,
amongst the old stars.

Paint I Wear

paint on me a picture of how I treat you
tattoo me with a rendering you consider just.
would I deal only in grace,
if my own malice were otherwise to stain me always?

Moriah Burning

Even while walls of heat whipped at our faces, Intralis and I found ourselves in a pocket of calm, spying the calamity rolled out before us.  The moriah seemed to spit fire here and there, like a sun, hidden in the soil, was spraying flares into the sky.  Silouhettes emerged and disappeared again. They swung swords from above their heads, from above depraved faces, soldiers losing themselves within the folds of the flames.  Men and women raged at one other in the blindness of this burning monster. Yet, we were too calm, too carefree in the presence of two tumbling societies.


my body strikes
picket circles and a war cry.
fantasy is a strong drink
never in short supply
my name is man
from this I've never sobered.


                                            You cannot know this truth,
                                                                     young soul,
the world,
in its hurry,
is beyond your interpretation,
                     But what tears at you,
                     ails the world,
                     its deepest debts.
                                                                    so let her love you.

Orpheus Light

from heaven estranged,
the light that looked back
on Eurydice the earth,
                          frozen now, between life and stone.
waving leaves, friends of sun
beg free light not to part,
bathed yellow in early fall
they lose hope soon,
free light retreats from winter's coming
those remaining jump to catch up,
but are caught,
by the weight of their sentence,
spin silently,
in adoration,
                          crisped leaves onto winter's earth.