He told me to run,

Run to me, run into this emptiness

Run unto the distant land that holds your heart


You will choke and become blind

With tears of history unfolding before mankind’s eyes

You see them laughing, holding, stalking the beast below

You will dance when all whirlwinds of purple melancholy turn to pray


No one will be smiling for they will have forgotten their names

The ones they cherished most will be carried beyond the sky

In each second, your heart will become closer to that distant land

Further into a tunnel,  turned away by a sirens ocean



A simple word,

A fevered soul

Come upon the threshold that holds you so.

So deep the vacancy of your arms.


You pull and push your way, through mists and webs

We hold each other with ghost hands

We hear the cannons fire and see all that burns

We return to the ash that bore us doomed


I wait for your breath upon my skin

You dress the canyons and fields with gentleness

You remain hidden in lace and churn the water into an ocean.

We taste the earth and return unbroken

Seeking our way home.



When I Get Older

Patty Smith

Patty Smith  ~ Photo by  Annie Leibovitz 


I have my mantras

At 45 I still believe myself to be 28

With scars and wounds, opened for all to see

Perfection to the stars

With mud underneath my nails and yes, hair on my ass.


They go as the following, if my life force allows me onward.

Fabulous at 50

Sexy at 60

Stunning at 70

Energized at 80

Nesting at 90


I will follow the wisdom of the women before me, behind me and next to me.

Because in the present I shed my skin at night and dress up in the morning.



I never remember wrapping myself with the dirt around

I can’t remember the moment when I ran down the street

Shelter, please protect me.

To the place on the street, slipping down the drain

Watching the rainbow, the pure sheen of oil

Is the monument still standing? It kisses each crescent and then travels

on and on

But when does it reach heaven? Is it the same floor I climbed to reach my bliss

The white and red, the gluttony of shallow skin stretched thin

I turn around and walk down the stairs that turn into a path

The softness of the earth, the intoxicating joy of the pines

I rejoice in wrapping  myself with the air, leaves, quenching my thirst with the rain and then falling deep into the earth.



Snowy Gaze


Is it hard to hold this gaze?

Beautiful smile to join this game

You stroke my hair and laugh

Master of disguise in the suns shadow


You fill the world with nighttime wonder

With a travelers word

Come softly to this place

That I call home


In the mists and fingertips

Your spell divine

My fading echo that follows you from behind

No Devotion

I left my focus at the threshold.

You tried to hold my hand and embrace the change, but the stirring of the heart is drawing close.

Don’t worry about the journey as we arrive. It may be cold, hot or perfect to the touch. Like the fireflies by the pond, a short time we have here running in parallels.

We write and sing about storms but it is the mist that stings with chills.

No devotion to the souls that weep in autumn. We gather and collect those innocent hearts that have been broken.