And on the first day…

There must be a sense of euphoria akin to being Godlike when you are a creator …

To hear someone yelling the words to your first song at the top of their lungs, finding meaning and claiming it as their own as much as they do their own name

To see someone display your artwork in the entry way of the place they choose to call home, proudly showing it to every visitor as they would a newborn child

To have someone immerse themselves in your written words, repeating it to themselves like some holy gospel and carrying it close up under their heart for comfort

To know that you have expressed something into existence which has found its own path of illumination past the threadbare, warped corridors of your brain must be the greatest feeling in the world.


Afternoon Delight

In the lilting light I watch you liquify

Parts of yourself spilling slowly along

The length of my bed and solidifying again

I run the tip of my finger along your body

It delves deep… probing… never to surface.

Lady in Waiting

In an age that I can no longer remember

I had limbs that were limber and supple,

I moved with the ease and grace of one

Who had not yet seen the terrible delights

Of a world that grips us tighter each day.

But as time drew the life from my body

I became cold and hard as alabaster

Eventually rooted and frozen in place

And then they came… the parade of thieves

Armed with their chisels and hammers

To carve away at and dismember me

Stealing what little value there was,

Leaving a fraction of me to the elements

By the time you found me I was nothing…

A mere shadow of myself set in stone.

Old demons.

You pulled me against you, close. With every breath you took I sank deeper into you but felt the wall begin to build between us, summoned by my own innermost demons.


Each feeling a concrete block to reinforce the seemingly insurmountable obstacle that looms between myself and anyone else. For every centimeter you drew me closer I felt myself moving a mile away.

You sleep peacefully while I lie awake every night with these thoughts roiling in my head and a heavy knot in my chest as I struggle with the expectation of the inevitable let down.


The Old One

I stood with my long arms splayed above

To welcome the fiery warmth of the sun

My toes dug deep into the dark, moist earth

My fingers stretched to meet a waiting sky

I felt my torso harden and become gnarled

While green leaves sprouted at my crown

I became rooted in place…

An oaken memory of a life past it’s time.