A flower.

Naked vessel blushing on the pad of your finger.
So small,
so tiny,
a breath
could blow it away.

You wait for me to take it,
stolen identities have formed on each petal,
milleniums of surviving and thriving-
now torn from the earth.

All the while,
thin whispers
of prehistoric wars
battle inside these veins
of ironic decay.

Night Girl

Night Girl

Black is the night girl
who runs with the stars,
she who camoflauges into shadow sky.

Wild is the night girl
Who adventures in the darkness,
She who speaks with arcane hollowed eyes.

Deep is the night girl
Who whispers with the soil,
She who feeds deeply of pale-blue moonlight.

Free is the night girl
Who dances breathlessly till dawn,
She who remains grounded while also in flight.

She speaks coyote
She drinks cactus
She rides bareback
She haunts all of us

She laughs thunder

She dances firefly

She smells wildflower

She whispers lullaby


She chants toad

She weeps lighting

She pulses earth

She sings everything


She smokes wind

She spits rain

She breathes stars

She embodies arcane.


She is the biker with longhair.

She is the courage against nightmare.

She is the intensely beautiful stare.

She is the I who wills to dare.