to be written

whistle on the tracks

high pitched hum

the shake and sway

while my fingers catch letters 

words fly forward like a typewriter punching keys

the page is not as empty as it once was

the music continues 

streaming endlessly 

a beat linked together like the words 

they combine together

form a picture with no picture

form sounds when all is quiet

form a memory etched 

as if in stone

from the steady movement

the thoughts that try to slow down to match pace with the body

the body does what it can to collect it all

turn and translate

offer and experiment 

and the mind gives it a nod

the poetry ushered in

shaped from nothing

yet shaped before it began

to be written

to be released into the world of strangeness

to be given meaning 

and interpreted

twisted over

folding over into itself

until the thing is not a thing any longer

need desire wish to communicate

transcend beyond

into understanding 

ah ha moment of connective tissue

fibers of various lengths binding together 


i see now your implication 

your persuasion, poem

in the spritely joining

perfect combination of alphabet

of ideas

into one piece

that is suddenly gone

we see beyond

i look out and see beyond the horizon

i lift my head up to

face myself

face the world

facing with clarity


honest about where i’m at 

i see now

i see me

i am not the villian i thought i was

and neither is the person before me

neither is the landscape before me

i am not the enemy

i look out and see faith

in this rests the belief in myself

my community

that anything is possible

that oneness

against the silence

knowing how to channel anger

removing desire before it turns to hate

standing against fear

looking it in the eye

my breath is so natural

you can see the sun come up

you can feel when the ground lifts and curves upwards to the sky

you can see past the horizon

all of us



patiently waiting together

the sister of destruction

i am the sister of destruction

coming your way 

with no stops

charging through and unceasing

i follow after 

and make life from the path of death she leaves as my welcome mat

i am not angry

i am kind

i move slowly

i put things where they might be noticed

i make things beautiful

and while my sister comes running full speed 

stopping for no one

i move lightly 


over the wet ground 

my footsteps spring 

and i make a game out of it

i dance

i giggle softly

i hide behind flowers

i blush when i’m noticed

sister is bold and competitive

i am soft but still i am strong

because who could make something from nothing?

who could match the dawn with mystery?

i am what follows

when quiet is restored

and life is given

a chance 

to grow