Walk With the Sun, Love With the Moon. (11.16.16)

She is a wildflower,
Sprouting where nothing dares to grow.
The sun light flits over her garden,
That grows on the side of highway 66.

Her eyes shimmer like gold dust in a California river,
Given the chance she'd rather be panning for minerals
Then pining over missed chances.

Because to her there is nothing quite like the air,
Mixed with starlit woods.
Something about the dead of night
Makes her feel alive.

Consort of the Witch (7.16.16)

He leaves kisses like embers
On paper pale skin.

He worships this universe,
And it caresses away his pain.

Under the silver moon there is clarity.
In his body, in his mind.

The tempest heart is stilled.

The liminal space between their
Intertwined fingers

Is where adoration
And Affliction meet.

My Body is a Good Body (4.1.16)

It keeps me upright and

Strong.

It cushions my clumsy

Falls.

Every breath in it rushes the

Air to my lungs.

Every exhale there is stardust.

I am a universe,

Vast and unexplored.

My mind is an ocean,

Deep and full of terrors.

But my Body is a good body.

This is not up for debate.

So whether you look at me and see

A renaissance painting,

Or late night ice cream

With friends.

My Body got me here.

Safe, whole, unharmed.

It's a good Body.

Whether you like it or not.