Moving

In my deprivation
I feel the fullness
Of the hollow places
The nothingness

Pain left unhealed
Unmentionable loneliness
Detachment
Disappointments

Nerve
endings
come
closer and closer

This kind of nakedness
Begs for love
That is what I will give it
So much of it too

And peace becomes me
All my gratitude
For this ability to feel
Human

Overflow

Overflow

There is love in darkness
Love in drifting
Love in wading
Love in waves
Love in the shallow
Love in the abyss

Love in longing
Love in space, time
Love in wishes
Love in dreams
Love in thoughts
Love in the tangible

Love with body
Love with mind
Love with spirit
Love with heart
Love with deeds

Love in color
Love in music
Love in art
Love in earth
Love in wind, fire and water

There is love in silence.

Untitled

I want to write with pen on paper 

(in fact that is how this poem came to be) 

Each word birthed with ink filled strokes sinking deeply into the fine tooth layers 

Inspired words fervently rendered and rejected, rendered and rejected 

I want what has been aged, grown old with me 

Nothing new 

Gray versions of ourselves 

Complexity 

I want film to shoot my dreams how I see them 

Blurred faces, figures, turbulent storms, confusion  

A darkroom, with a split seconds of light - glimpses 

So much potential to create beautiful things, beautiful things 

Recipes on scraps of paper hidden inside of books 

Folded love notes kept locked inside dresser drawers 

Each line, each syllable committed to memory 

Tucked away, treasured tethers to perfection 

I want the song, the music, the artist 

Nostalgia written about rich living 

Notes chosen for each expression 

Creativity built upon freedom, living

I want truth and I want irony 

I want you coming back home to me