MOURN The things we no longer want will die and these, we must also mourn The things we no longer need will die and these, we must also mourn The things we have loved will die and these, we must also mourn The clothing and patterns are worn the time is now, for something new to adorn and all that was, is no longer. Happy, we mourn

AMERICAN POET I am an American Poet writing with this German bank pen knowing the origins of my trailer park cats, Lions of the southern jungle There's a story of the panther in my birth flesh Overlapping realities movement in time The o u t s t r e t c h e d highway turns on itself Tree species intermingle and the roots push deep into the stars Compression of worlds bursting inside my skin Fragments explode, coming together in new forms From a distance now I see clearly the imprints of my steps

IN THE END, ASCEND Is everybody in? Imagine a mass ascension about to begin. Is everybody in? The doors are closing our ceremony begins. Take your seat relax your brain because now you know the long road was not in vain. And it feels it feels so good to let it go to cut up the paper to let the lava rain flow. And don't look at the frowning face no, fix the gaze at the lover's grace Yes, now we're moving the doors were closed its now or never where your mind goes you can choose with love the wisdom laugh for the truth comes in story why not now when there is no more, turning back. Imagine, a mass ascension about to begin Is everybody in?

WHISPERS For a long time now there were whispers in our ears for those of us who felt the stardust running through our veins We heard the whispers coming closer to the surface Louder in our ears The time was here.

PIECES TO BREATHE Pieces of me you never accepted Pieces of me you never denied Sun shield at my nape Moon crescent below to the river that flows Without alarm allowed, to fully come back broken free from bar codes I step outside that box Breathe, breathe with me these pieces to breathe I want only for us to be free

REGARDING LONELINESS Maybe these moments are for sheer experience, for empathy for all the lonely people, and it is only because my input levels are so much higher than my output levels that I feel the need to tattoo these words onto the skin of the machine without ears, about these moments of sheer experience of utterly painful loneliness, building the empathy and pushing through to the relief that I am still more than ok with myself, but before getting there each time, I must endure the awkwardness of standing in the middle of a crowd and the awkwardness of the fat Elvis tumbling in my head repeating, "I'm so lonely I could die," over and over, as he rolls over his head, in my head, and I am standing in limbo between the levels, between the train lines, pretending I'm waiting to meet friends as the ant-people going up, going down, quickly brush by my strangely still body, and I'm not waiting for friends, I'm debating which train to take home, which is actually a delay as I consider who I can call and pretend I'm not lonely, but that makes me even more lonely as I realize there are very few people whose company could meet the immensity of my feelings, and then this strangely forgotten song comes up on random through my ears, reminding me that I was always lonely, even when I played this song on my radio show in college, before I traveled the world alone, before I had my own business that failed, before I swam with the glowing plankton under the mirroring stars and the world was still full of endless possibilities, before I accumulated enough stories of beauty and horror to fill ten volumes.. and it doesn't matter because we all have stories that very few will ever hear, and we all come in alone and go out alone, and yet we're all somehow still connected and forever together in this big cosmic picture, and I feel it all and its ok because I always push through the utterly painful loneliness and remember the truth and so I don't feel sorry and I don't want pity because its so fucking beautiful as I put the eerie song on repeat and choose which train I want to take me home, where I go and bask in my ability to enjoy my own company and a text comes from a friend, "are you still out?" and I reply, "I'm home drinking and writing. cheers" and they reply, "I'm jealous," as the planets continue around the sun, the universes collide on unseen levels and that strangely forgotten song echoes through my now empty mind.

LULLABY Through the static Through the noise Something reached out Through the static Through the noise A deja vu Through the static Through the noise Through the static Through the noise

CRONE MAIDEN Sometimes I am the crone Sometimes I am the maiden and if I were a mother it would be for a thousand children children of the humans children of the birds children of the forests with creatures on four hooves children of the mountains children of the stars children of sacred plants and children of the sea in the desert and everywhere with you I want to be

SEVENTH SEAL And when the lamb had opened the seventh seal there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour

SYRIAN MOON Dear Luna wants to know what you mean about visas and borders, and what about her friends in Syria, must they stay? Her mama called the neighbor the apartment is still there bombs have not yet hit, still there a home to care. How old will Luna be when its safe for her friends again to see? This info was gathered in the hallway in a short moment between her and me, we only had just met and it was only that one time but emergency pushed my hand in the direction of this rhyme

STREAM OF THOUGHT Worlds colliding crumbling, blooming immense energy building to deconstruct All that is, is no longer yet reborn anew. Our dreams crack open this concrete baby egg Shards of light I've never seen critical mass, tip tip tipping the scale to a point of no return shooting to the beginning a never-ending loop my mind's eye reawakens from the rumble of my heart mighty roar this lion sings I will NOT sleep shift pierces the soul, inflicting growing pains but I am wide awake I want to see it all, be it all Waves of feeling quicken my pulse gasping for breath in the new day's air in and out, I breathe again just breathe I say, just breathe

ARMOUR OF SCARS It is time for the battle cry pulling the double edged sword killing with kindness gather your strength you are not beat yet this is not the end it is the beginning the raging heart is the drum of war the hearts of the women are not yet on the floor retreat only enough to empower the rhythm of soil is in the flesh the power of spirit is in the breath

RED AUGUST Chavela died and we landed on Mars I'm reminded to breathe, I listen to my words, just breathe. Seated at the wooden table typing intelligent keys mixture of luminous screen and candle light casting shadows, swaying silhouettes of fresh fat leaves and flowers already parched grotesquely beautiful forms mirroring every movement of the candle's flame life and death in their habitual passion dance "crumble-bloom" a friend would say and Manzanita plays again sweeping me from Berlin to Mexico, as Curiosity celebrates landing on Mars and one beautiful woman forever, is gone.