The TV could be on in the other room You’d be on your laptop half interested in everything, nothing Anything but me Our daughter would be somewhere here; absently, greedily eating illusions And I’d be dying quietly, no differently than I am now… Except that now I get to walk the catacomb like a priestess…
Author: sobrietypoet
I am an ocean
My Hawk
Buddha Nature

Nature’s ceaseless muscle Pulls us From these small hours These dying bodies Because the Truth is Fires that start in space never stop spreading Sunlight is touchable on a horse’s hip A soft hand always heavies the eye And we breathe through our hearts Knowing the notes of a song we’ve never heard before
I was here
Shapeshifter god

God shows himself in mysterious ways Sometimes he’s Louis Armstrong on the radio on your way home from work Sometimes he’s an owl-shaped tealight candle holder, small and gray That way when you turn off all the bedroom lights his face flickers in haunting shadow Actually he’s a million different solitary birds presenting to each…
Love letter from my brother
Drop down
Mary’s Gospel
Ode on intimations of immortality…

Just a little Love tonight from the Oregon coast and my first Lover, William Wordsworth. As a little girl, I remember stealing from my mother’s book shelf, stacks of classic romantics. But William was the first theft. He and I conceived my passion for books. Real books. From the ornamented bindings, the textured ink, the…






