Thursday, February 2, 2017


Quickening to Incarnation

Known and unknown rest,
One within the other.

Terror rolls in like fog 
And burns off in the heat of twin suns.

Rooting to rise 
We lay down our bones
To nourish what's to come.

Tidal Breath

Waves crash,
Wash up the beach
And retreat again

Energy without effort
Turning stone to sand, 

Giving itself up
To the nature of the world.

I Will Not Die On That Hill

Or any other.

Not on some slope
Between here and there--

Too undignified to
Be called a mountain,

Too much the upstart to
Be considered a rise.

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