The Arrow

Generations

Scramble

Days like these

Pine Straw Welcome

She Rattles

Cognitive Objects

Fallen

Mechanics of Beauty

The Naturalist

Matilda

To Let Go

Animal Ecstacy

Both Are Good

Thoughts Collide

Forrest Friends

The Vortex of Now

Lens

Belonging

Mystical Moonbeam Shadows

Seams

When the Wind Drops

What it means to love the moon.

When the thief enters, let her steal.

Waves Tumble In.

Rufus

The tides

Just

The space between letters

Angel's Architecture

Hopscotch between moon shadows

Gravity of rain

The Sisters

Echo Chamber

The Sisters

You Say

Now... Again

Belonging

And so it was...

And then I saw

Her shine

A small

Child

Peering behind

Adultuated eyes

Emerald spheres 

A Mandala of Flecked

onyx spear tips

Circumnavigating those charcoal

Irises of God

What happened? 

I asked....

She told me lengthy stories 

Her life stories

Of piercing pain

Of Clenched marble

Upon iron jaws

Of fantastic fright

That caused deep 

Rivulets 

Of doubt

To form in her 

Experienced

Landscape Lenses

Of long and short love

Broken 

Fractured 

Awaiting repair

From The Glass-Maker

Of missing mom

And denying dad

Of her struggling search 

for meaning....

For God

Innocent child

Behind Adultuated

Amber onyx emerald 

Eyes

Rimmed brows 

Bows strung to sing

Songs yet born

I love you

As I love 

myself

I love you

As you are loved 

By God

Galaxies spin

Across space-time

One fragmented snapshot

Of God’s great

Mystery dance-rhyme

Facts facts facts

Persist as though

They are heir to the righteous throne

And yet

Mystery of unknowing

Rules all

On its own

It doesn’t need high-backed chairs

Pedestales of soap

To declare

It’s righteousness of truth

Any common sleuth

Would sit upon them

and stare

In awe of her majesty

In awe of their insignificance

Of their facts

And yet

Still

We cling

To what we think we know

In favor of

Witnessing this genius

This mystery show

Let me paint it for you

With Words of Light

What happened to you

Never did

And did...

Depending

On your sight

These storm winds

Shake needles

Falling from the sky

Piercing my heart

As they float by

Dead and ready to return

They are shed

For the earth’s magic renewal

Any my heart

A pine-needle porcupine

No longer

Absorbs them

Transmutes into

Soft fertile earth

The kind of knowing

That fruit trees

Want to grow in

The kind of dirt

Roots can take hold of

The kind of earth

That radiates fire

from its center

This needle struck heart

Torn asunder by storm

Winds

Finally finds

Full acceptance and understanding

If it’s own

Earthly origin