The pain of the universe
is all around me,
it permeates all I do and see,
infusing my deepest longings
that prompt me to be free.

Hectare’s blade, the iron maid

Worlds whirled–
a marble flung
across the divides
of you and me.

A mystical mourn,
a statistic reborn.

A cauldron,
black and deep,
is my only recourse
when I don’t want to sleep.
There with incantations wild
I try to capture for a millisecond
my divine essence, my divine child–
who knows no pain, who is fearless and tough,
who knows how to stand up for herself
and say enough is enough.

And all along trails
of gingerbread cookies divine,
and some drops of blood
(probably mine)–
bleeding from me,
between my two legs
(scrawny and ill-formed)–
maybe one day a new
world will be born.

But for now
alone and adrift,
I long for the distant call
of nothing at all.

Peony dreams,
petaled and white,
shatter my mind
like a stick of dynamite

Oh bee upon wing
and bird upon lark–

Fly me away,
away from this dark
hole of creation
sucking me down–

fly me away,
away from my hometown–

Over mountains and lakes,
across crystal beds wide,
take me on your dreams
to where you reside.

Let me nestle deep
with you when you sleep,
our dreams
of a paradise
simple and true.

Help me steer by the stars
following the winds and the tides
of my birth to the land beyond tides
where the elephants hide
and the beauty of the moment always resides.

Fly me away, fly me away,
back to me—
so simple and free.

From Mystic Mourn (2015)