Sacred and ecstatic songs not bound by any one tradition as all contemplative poems are fingers pointing to the same moon. Go to end of page for a listing of archived poems.
8.31.2006
Bees
I remember the bees, the small bodies sculpted to the wall the screams of an invaded house.
The hive swarms within my mind now.
I listen to a drumming trapped inside a memory as thoughts with yellow wings tumble onto morning feet.
