Let the beauty we love be what we do. ~ Rumi


I'm in love with the Holy Spirit


so my daughter Kira drew this beautiful artwork for me.

O Fortuna

A quivering in the dead brush, ghosting of a velvet flute 

holds me close

scales up and down flickering wings through vanishing time.

Upstairs, a rock-a-bye atmosphere tinged with birdsong

my father in his soft shirt smelling of leaves and smoke

his song of wilderness flowing unfinished.

Mother is downstairs near a ruffling of curtains

rounding her shoulders at the sink, reddening knuckles

in her perishable world.

She worries as she hums, vigilant

over quotidian life and lump-free gravy

as my memory blurs into abstractions, a cigarette's final spark.

Here I lay

doubled up in the pitched tent of now, memories unfurling

captive to a glassy panache of my own Carmina Buranic notes

smashed flutes surrounding dammed up 'O Fortunas'

everything to experience in this precious life 

driven into words of carnality

notes of love singing with such intensity

that there's no stopping the glass shattering.