Poetry Collection Debut!

book
I am happy to announce the availability of my debut collection of poetry for purchase. Please follow the link below to access the title from my Create Space page. It is also available on Amazon and Kindle, and in about a month look for it at a bookstore near you! Enjoy and thank you so much for your support.

https://www.createspace.com/6510512

And There I Stood…

10380975_1065321450186867_2739284391937363182_n

And there I stood
at the threshold of infinity,
wondering when
the tides would cease to swerve,
when the moon would
turn to face me and weep,

when the lighthouse
would become darkened
by the sempiternal emptiness
of unanswered questions.
And then I chose a star to hold,
to cherish and protect as the path takes on new direction.
I speak to a destiny that radiates possibility,
that dissipates the tribulations of yore
and casts them into the pond
where I once thought the answers awaited me.
And here I sing robust melodies
bejeweled with red stones,
warm and smooth to the touch,
filled with a luscious silence, a knowing.
The future reveals an exploding genesis,
its particulates raining upon my head
down my face, attached to my song,
christened by the scintillations

emanating from my bosom.

Art: “Blue”
Wassily Kandinsky

Nestled by the Fireside

Nestled by the fireside,
listening.
The temperate caress
of an errant flicker
awakens the latent
serenade of the season,
carrying expectant smiles
to their place beyond the sphere.

Everything exists
in this series of nows and forevers,
in the way your hand

Lies untroubled in mine,
redolent of the halcyon’s
repose after her flight
through celestial reveries
interconnected by the vestal melodies
of winged seraphs
perched atop the star that sits aloof
bearing our likeness.

I’ve Heard the Echoes

12370952_926522124068969_5653738648252616557_o

I’ve heard the echoes,
chased the shadows,
danced with the reveries
of phantom caresses.

Retreat with me
to a safe space
‘neath the snow-laden burrows
behind the curtain of remembrances

where we will carve out
the annals
of innocence and mirth,
and ascend the smoky hills by night’s end.

Art: “The Road in front of Saint-Siméon Farm in Winter”
Claude Monet

 

Absorbed Space

12346532_904066769689060_4791095675755098077_n

Absorbed space,

where the branches met their
reflections
and
her solace
birthed itself from eternal hiding,
Where the minions of fate
worked in concert
to don
the ornamented veil
of futures subsequently
resisted,
Where drops of sky
chased
a soulless moon
to its final appearance,
returning to
the fringes of darkened hours.

Art: “The Black Swan”
William Degouve de Nuncques

Where the Rivers Converge

 

Meet me where the rivers converge,
where the elemental

upsurge

of thought and reflection
begin to inspire

the formation

of territories newly populated
by the wisdom of

hands that prayed

themselves into warm bundles
of anxious grins that called upon the old

incantations

of lost serpents, mighty but humble
and for the most part without guile

voiceless…..

but keenly aware of the changes in direction
and flow, and contemporary with outgrowths of

new being

not yet reduced by the apparitions we have yet to fight.