The waves whisper to my skin,
The softest kind of siren song.
I wonder how the day has past for those I used to love,
I wonder if the stars have ever truly aligned.
And in all the wandering of my heart,
One too many people have been hurt.
Although, if you ask me, one is too many.

The moon calls back memory,
Of how words can travel through the body.
Like starlight cuts through space
Just to find my bare skin.

Once, the story goes
A few decades or so ago
In a land of silence
A few people gathered to roar
Pity,
All they wanted was to make a sound
To read a poem, and sing aloud
Once, the story goes
A few decades or so ago
Silence was pierced for a brief moment
And scarlet red stained the ground.

Flashes of yesterday’s garden,
deep green under a gray sky--
I step into the canvas, moving
slowly, regretful and watchful,
with the weight of past light.

So many colored years,
some bright, some somber,
and you, the voice that ripened
youth, the accented syllables
opening the hours between
cliffs and sky, your presnce
re-appearing in soft explosions
of living, so painful to let go.

I pray for change, impermanence,
for last year’s dust to settle to
acceptance, to turn over the pages
of the past and to forgive everything.

people see smoldering flames  
crawling up her veins
and think of empires collapsing into ash,

people watch her eyes spark
and feel her calloused electricity
and they convince themselves of her power  

she broods and she intimidates    
and they think she is strong
and they think she is dangerous
and they are afraid of her fire

even though the only thing she tries to destroy
is herself.

I am a ledger!
No, I am a legend!
Well, anyway, I am drunk.