in the palm of my hand
unfolding petals of light
rayed with hope, opportunity
understanding, pain, bitterness


holding out to me the joy of
self known from the immortality
of primordial mud
yet, for all distinction
being the same as
the wisdom in its
dark roots

poet without a voice
writer without a pen
still may tell the story


walking with your brother
into the pink heart
of truth
and singing to the
dawn pregnant with yesterday’s
newness, tomorrow’s dreams


hold my hand and dissolve
fragment my heart
so the love can leak
and replenish the earth

follow no rules
the universe
will hold you in the
cradle of its


drop petals as veils
before the truth
and laugh
at the illusion

(October 14, 2003)


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