POETRY SAMPLES

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​Give Me This

Love me as though 

we have no past or future 

as though the sun will sear us 

if we linger here too long. 

 

Love me like there’s no day after 

only now to drink in deep 

and feel the darkness 

like liquid light 

like wine from a sacred cup 

velvet on our tongues

and open hearts beating fast 

to match the trembling trees 

the breath of me 

that wraps itself around the places 

only you can reach.

 

Love me deep and sweet and real 

keep me safe and let me feel it all 

from flesh to soul 

and let the sound we sing 

to mother earth 

vibrate in her rivers 

and cling to her lips 

like spirits from heaven 

or a clear cool cloud 

on an autumn wind.

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In the Arms of the Morning

The goddess is facing east

gazing into the rising sun

the last of her ashes linger 

in the air like diamonds 

tiny flames of white snow.

 

She’s been almost gone for some time now 

buried under stones of hatred

intolerance burning its way under the skin 

and emerging again 

rebranded as righteousness 

hate for the sin but love for the sinner 

they say, as if this is valid 

or truthful or fair 

as if you can separate 

one from the other 

or someone from who they are. 

 

I wonder that anyone would believe 

that she ever intended to fight 

her battles for the soul of humanity 

in marble halls 

or in the company of those 

who play the game of thrones and gold 

and shout into silver microphones 

while proclaiming themselves 

the savior of all 

who follow them from 

or into the darkness 

in the name of the Lord 

who couldn’t care less 

what they want or where they stand. 

 

As if tanks or guns 

or fields of blood 

or the fuel of rhetoric 

that feeds the flames 

is a battle that matters 

when souls are on fire 

and the war rages on in the human heart.

 

She has given her time instead 

to those who know nothing of power 

who strive only for peace 

and find themselves hungry and lost. 

Among those who no one sees or wants

those who disappear into dark places 

and sleep on cold ground

who have no voice 

and nothing to offer

around whom she wraps 

always her arms 

like tender ivy twining 

around a small tree. 

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Planes

I feel like a plane 

riding the clouds 

circling the ground 

in a wide windy arc 

a holding pattern position unknown 

until the runway is clear 

and I’m given the command 

to descend and touch down.

 

The horizon is perfect up here 

from this vantage point 

from this piece of air. 

Its blue line shimmering 

broken only by trees 

and mountains and rocks 

and I am amazed 

that the whole human race 

has made it this far 

without killing us off 

or leaving it all to the lesser of these 

those who walk with four legs 

and look after each other 

and don’t take for granted 

the life they’ve been given. 

 

If I were a rock 

I’d sit for an age and think 

or I’d climb a tall tree 

if I were a squirrel 

and look over the land 

like a girl in a plane 

I’d know my place 

and the time to be still 

and I’d know what’s real. 

 

But I’m not a rock 

or a squirrel in a pine

or a girl in a plane 

or a snake or a dog 

or a dragonfly singing. 

 

I’m sleepy and warm 

and looking for arms 

to reach through the blue. 

I’m watching and waiting 

for you to fly home 

and make me your own. 

To make it back here. 

 

The skyway is lovely

and the runway is clear. 

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