Blessed Precipitation

Like morning dew

It usually passes through

But when it rains

It feels like pain

Achy and panging

When lovers part

Expanding to reach the other

In this blessed precipitation

Love longing for itself

Swirling in my heart

Longing for the warmth underneath my covers

My soul sighs through these ancient utterances

Yearning and grasping

It knows nothing other

Than to crack its self open

To bemuse the fear

To let the triggering impressions go

To let this, simple, love flow

Sitting in the sprinkling,  California Drought, 2015

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8 Corpses

There she stared at the 8 corpses

Lifeless and still

Scattered about within 16 feet

Straddled and poised

80 of them phalanges spread

Covered in silence with nothing said

160 from soles to crowns

Mindless with no thoughts roaming around

As if heaven had kissed those drifting souls

In this very holy spot

Seen from the eyes of this

Reflection wearing her Goth

Halloween, 2014

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