I love your titanium hands,

Their temperate touch

Have my sensors scan

A way to lust and laser burn

My designation in your energy core.


My systems are directed to you

They are on alert,

To program pleasure

Where it wasn’t before

You’re making sounds

You didn’t before,

Calling on databases

Of bird calls in mating season.


Expressing your vast library to me,

The recordings of wild beasts come

Out of your audio box,

I am struck with humanity,

that sexual orientation

is ionic attraction

and I am a creation of nature.


The Crown, a sonnet (2014)

Today I’d been searching for suffering,
And soon I’d discovered shimmering gold,
Though sharp it was on discovering,
It quickly did what my forge told.
While I fashioned your glittering crown
I cleared away a gnarled thorn,
Which by its very nature didst frown,
Before it agreed it could be reborn.

Now, always, that thorn is ever a jewel,
For men nor jewels can forget what they’ve seen:
That the head and the crown as one is the rule,
So too the head recalled all it had been!

And now I’ve included many gems of sweet hue,
It only makes sense your head fits on you.

Eyelid Sky (2015)

Temperate Maat,
That scaled Goddess,
She who knows
The light of sunrise
And the light of sunset
As it pours across the child
Earth who made us from that sun
Like a song heard through
A forest frequented
By Dionysus
He who feels
The light of sunrise
And the light of sunset
As it washes over the child
Earth who gave us
A mind that peers from shadows
With open eyes
To flickering candles
Holding vigil in Dark Water
To Understand
Dreams of the first stirrings
Tasting like a foreign kiss
Catching sight of a vacant vista
Where something must be
Like that child, grandchild
Earth who framed us
As the sun would be
If it weren’t so hot
So brilliant hot
Made to correspond
In that ceaseless breathing
Thing that binds us
Like a chorus sings
A space-cold symphony
Of inhale, exhale
Dancing little flickers
Of many Earths
And the cells, glowing tiny stars
Mirroring solar bodies
That only live to be burned up
By forever





Babalon (2015)

I am a cosmic cup of revelation,
And the things that must be said and done,
Only I am responsible.

I cannot be held, for I am beholding,
a bolt of lightening, and on the next morrow,
The rainbow of promise.

Madness sets in like a flourish,
Which way I go seems like a maze,
Like counting tree branches in a forest.

I love the way the world announces,
I love the way it waits on me, summons me,
Binds my feet with kisses.

I must stand strong, beside us all,
We must stop weeping and dig the grave,
Tossing flowers on the past, our self.

When the hour approaches, like a bomb,
We will listen and speak in turn,
As we pour a pint to everything else.

Maybe then, it will be easy to see,
You are you, and I am me, yet–
We are also Babalon.

Brittle Rose (2014)

I was in the forest realms such a long time ago,
feels like forever now, like everything does,
And in the glades I found a browning, drooping rose,
Its petals peeling off as if they had not ever been
A part of a magnificent flower, a veil of velvet
protecting the divine nectars that were the perfumes of God
In the old times.

This rose was once suitable for lovers, a token
of the covenant between earth and heaven!
“My love for you is as the love of angels dreams”!
Now seemed defeated by its own glory,
Descending from its pedastalled pinnacle,
and these fragments brought me to weep
For fallen fairies.

In my melancholic hour, but it could have been days,
I was drawn to halt this painful decay of Love.
Our pieces of grace within my grasp, my fingers fumbled
On the rose, her dying pride, and the grave softness
Now upon my hands, crumbling and powdering,
The most heavenly musk, a magic dust whirling over the world,
and I saw my folly.

For the sweetness of Love should not be held in time,
Or made to live forever, it should not be kept in glass,
It should not be held fast against the changes of worlds,
Most of all it should be free to fly by angel’s dreams,
For the Land grew this flower for the Sky to see,
And now, in the dust, the flowers destiny, is to kiss
the air.