Today is like no other..

…And the sky is soon – 

                                    to be born.. 

today-                 is no other..  

the Sky is coming..   

our sun is here..  

today is like none that have come..  

today is here..   our Sky is with us..  

as -Love- it is us..  

our Sky is with us..  

today is like no other ..  

our Sky is to be born..   

he is our drumbeat, 

He is our heart, our mind, he is our breath -with rhythms dancing in his mother’s womb…  he is our Sky…   he is arriving soon.   


This Rain..

This rain falls, it drops…   

this rain…   calls and cancels out spells with -new spells, a few too many to count, these Rain drops fall.  

I won’t care at all if it continues.  In fact I’m glad for it all.  

The rain drops fall, subsiding when clouds have completely abandoned their mission to purge..  
These raindrops drip down windows’ skin, providing me with the perfect meditation.  

Rain; the perfect meditation.  


Write today.  

Write thoughts, write words, write feelings and how to feel, or how it is -to feel.  

Write about the depths beneath, the space that is unseen, all of that which is invisible .. Write about  what is behind the curtain of what you are seeing -now; or what we are able to see.   Just write.  Simply stated then reiterated, as I said…  Just write.  

She wakes to wonder

She wakes to wonder…

She often wonders…. ‘Where are they? Who are they? … When might they come by? Why…. Or how did they just leave their daughter? Did they think I’d be cared for – with the state?… Will someone want to adopt me if they don’t come get me?’
These thoughts and similar considerations hurried through as she rubbed eyes and massaged her temples with the palms of her calloused hands.

She wakes unsettled, feeling uneasy and often distraught but she knows better than to allow these emotions the space or enough air to mature and find their way to the surface. If her eyes begin to water or redden she’ll no doubt be interrogated with less care than she is hoping for. The type of questions and prodding that begin to transpire are offered up with far less sensitivity, less humanity and less care than is required when these emotions are flaring up.

Today she wakes to wonder, soon as her eyes start to squint, she is immediately conscious of her surroundings.. The sounds of linoleum flooring meeting plastic shower-slippers pains her on this specific Wednesday at just past 6AM.

“Oooohhhhhhh….”, she sighs, this exhale is audible to Sarah bunking just above.

….”ohhhhhhh, my, my, my…. Hmmmm….”

She then retreats inward and reflects some more while sitting up, legs hanging over the mattress’ edge.

She becomes aware that this- …. This is now … Although she knows that more is out there, she is -not- out there. She wonders if that is where love is … She mumbles..”..Is love?? Is there love?? “. She is now a bit less coherent, slightly foggy with such meandering thoughts, thoughts of love and the outside world .. And family…. And…

that this … Is now her life, somehow her fate was made and she just wakes to watch it … She is here now, she is .. Here.

She watches…

She watches …

Buildings fold into claylike shapes, trees are barely visible. They pass on as her husband has, allowing her eyes to drift
… beyond what this train -is. She sees -beyond the seats; she sees. She watches and waits, holds her breath for a few short moments, imagining that he just may gently brush the skin of her weakly dangling hand. Her eyes have closed, she knows he’s gone but yet she

on and on.. She hopes, she watches these visions, daydreams, spacing -out without a goal. Without an out-come she’s come- to this and this is what she lives -for.

She watches as his wrist watch ticks atop her bag, she lets it hold her captive. She watches….

She wears the moon…

She wears the moon, she hosts and holds it; this moon hangs up and splashes on her surface.

She keeps the moon, abetting as a mother; she is the provider, this moon has a nest in her residence…
She releases ancient pheromones and pledges to keep in tact all that which she attracts … The moon delivers pollen and she is womb to hold the shine;
the shine of moon-she wears.