I Am the World To Your Dream

I am the world to your dream.
You are my sorrow and my song.
You ride the shaman’s conjured wind.
I am a lover’s net.
I catch your butterfly notes
and drink them all like moon’s milk.
How I love you! I bend your smile
over rustling treetops, and in your dawn
dreams the longing of nesting sparrows.

You are the blue mountain of all my fevered thoughts.
How I love you! Our souls like vines
entwine the virgin’s oak,
born not from yesterday or the morrow,
and in its primeval marrow
flows a gilded honeydew wrought from the flames of love
and passion’s fire.

You set my trammels free
and cut my clutching veins
and drips my naked blood
into your body’s vessel.

You transmute all my mute transgressions
into green emeralds and gold.

Your face ripples in the ebon offing.
My outstretched fingers,
stretched beyond miles mortal
fan your form angelic

and whole again I’m born.


I longed for thee when first I crawled to consciousness.
My dreams were all of thee when in the chrysalis I lay.
Oft myriads of my kind beat out their lives
Against some feeble spark once caught from thee.
And one hour more — and my poor life is gone;
Yet my last effort, as my first desire, shall be
But to approach thy glory; then, having gained
One raptured glance, I’ll die content.
For I, the source of beauty, warmth and life
Have in his perfect splendor once beheld.

Miss Frank Miller, from C.J. Jung’s Psychology of the Unconscious


Do my words have an ear?
Do they have a mouth?
To whom and by whom
were they spoken?

I have a pantheist’s ear,
and I have a pantheist’s eye.
The god I worship I call Friend.
The goddess I call Beloved.

In all things do I see
god and goddess.

You may sin against god
because you may repent
and absolve yourself
of those sins.
Time’s ledger will balance.
The scale will be even;
on one side good (absolution)
and on one side evil (sin).

But when you sin against your goddess,
You will have her blood on your hands,
and her blood will burn like an acid,
and you will forever be scarred.
Time will pay the evil by you done
with punishment equal to your crime.

You will pay dearly for it,
despite her nature to forgive.

Gentle Heart

See the mountains kiss high heaven,
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother:
And the sunlight clasps the earth,
And the moonbeams kiss the sea–
What is all this sweet work worth,
If thou kiss not me?

Loves Philosophy, Percy Bysshe Shelley


Upon my deathbed I lie inert—
dormant like a wintering tree,
enfeebled heart and mind aground,
command lost and naught to follow—
When I hear you sing.

Your song lifts me out of lumbering shadows—
out of the soft, dark earth
and melts my glacial melancholy.

Toward the window I creep—
the window a stage—
and pull the curtain back
and wash my face in your dun-colored dawn.
In you, beloved, is all the world.
You are the sea
into which my every river flows.

You sang for me at my birth—
My first breath indrawn.

What revelations did you sing for me
when my back was turned
through all the sullen years?

And when I am gone from you?
Will you be there at the last?
My last breath exhaled?

(Why trouble your brow with such thoughts?)

I dive deep into the present,
not by habit and not by wrote,
no longer do I drink from that ramshackle well of brackish memories
(No longer do I tease my darker angels—
I’ve toyed with them long enough.)
Each moment is a fullness,
each moment is a depth,
each moment is precious
because of its finitude.

Each moment is a joy and sadness
Such joy as this! To love you!
And sadness compounds the joy. Why must it be so?
To know that all the flowers that spring
from your eyes must someday wilt—
Bittersweet is love if thought be true.
But ’tis best to trust and love.

Rose Petals Fall

One of the loneliest aspects of time is transience. Time passes and takes everything away … But the opposite is also true when you are having a lovely time and are really happy; you are with the person you love … On such a perfect evening or day, you secretly say to your heart, God I wish this could continue forever … Even Faust begged the moment to stay … ‘Linger awhile, for you are so beautiful.’

Anam Cara, John O’Donohue


(Rose petals fall)

Brushed by the hand
of a goddess in her garden,
a chalice of life and longing
among her chosen flowers–
by chance,
or by fate,
or by fortune,
or by whim,
or by caprice,
the rose petals fall

(one by one)

The days and I are one fabric–
the years too long,
to encompass in a thought,
to hold in the hand,
unless I roll them all up like a bolt,
but then the old layered memories are gone,
not gone, but hidden,
in dusty, jewel-encrusted boxes,
in brittle photographs,
in words scrawled on napkins,
in rooms no longer visited.
Where is the laughter? Where is the tea?
The servants have fled
for emerald pastures.
They left without a sound
without a footfall in the night
to mark their secret passage.

(two by two)

But then there was you
and I held your petaled hand,
your petaled heart–
let my heart not fall without you.

To say that I love you.
To say it!
The sound flickers like a candle,
carried in the night,

searching from room to room
from unshuttered window to door unhinged,
from creaky floor to startled misstep,
a votive offering to the moon,
“See here, moon! Add this light to your light!
I have light to give!”

Please dearest,
Let my heart not fall without you.

If I Could

If I could reach
into the past
and pluck a petal
from that ghostly flower
I’d pull you back
and tell you that I loved you.

In your dying hours
I saw that you tried
to do the things you loved
in life, but you were so tired.

Death hung around your neck
and pulled your head down
so that all you could do
was stare into the dim morning—
dimmer now,
grayer now.
You crawled into the bitter end
with all the life left to you.

I pluck you from the past, dear one
and make you whole again.


But because truly, being here is so much;
because everything here
apparently needs us, this fleeting world,
which in some strange way
keeps calling to us. Us, the most fleeting of all.

Once for each thing. Just once; no more. And we too,
just once. And never again. But to have been
this once, completely, even if only once:
to have been at one with the earth,
seems beyond undoing.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from The Ninth Duino Elegy


It hovered for two moments, even three.
No, not it … he, or she
came to greet us, greet you, greet me.
I could not name her, nor you him.
His wings blurred, her body delicate.
If he could smile … well, perhaps she did.

Perhaps not at us,
but at the child between us,
The child we planted,
root of you, root of me.
Two months old and nimbus gold,
a sapling born of longing,
to taste the sun’s wake,
to dance in the moon’s glow,
to flower in spring,
to lie like a lizard,
lazy thoughts that
fill the empty corners
of desert summer days,
to shed old skin in autumn,
dormant bones in frozen snows,
to be known and to know,
to be heard and to listen,
to love without regret,
to live if only once.

“Only once!” I heard
the hummingbird say,

then he turned,
and she flew away.

And Now You Know

And now you know
That I have thought, “Will you still love me?”
Once you have seen
my all-too-human frailty
and how I often feel
that this bag of bones and blood
is not worth the touch of your hand
and the parting of your lips
and the words that pour forth from them
like a life-giving river …

But it seems that you do
and now life without you
is unimaginable.

You and I

Starving for your ripeness,
the winepress of your lips,
the blood of your river,
the root of your tree,
the lost highways you traveled by,
the miles of imagined miles,
the shadow of a hungry hawk circling a dry summer day
in late July
carried by the carrion of days
heaped upon a pile
and counted like a pauper’s coins.

Stories from your lips
will fill my soul
as bread and water
to a dying man,
days alone
on the scorched desert sand,
torn savagely from his home.

The train head bellowed not once in the night,
so mourned it of your absence.

You and I,
the fountain of our delightful alchemy.
You: god-born naiad of Mount Helicon, come home
bearing August’s gladiolus.
I: shepherd to your flock
of antinomian desires.

Fun fact: Antinomianism is any view which rejects laws or legalism and is against moral, religious or social norms. The term has both religious and secular meanings. Outside of Christianity, the term is used in Buddhism and Hinduism, and denote transgressive aspects of Vajrayana and Hindu Tantra, which include sexual elements.

Dear and Far

Dear and far,
far have you flown,
flown to the East,
East and to the sea …

Stretched so thin are you and I,
phantoms disarranged on either side
of this veil of miles immeasured.

But still the still sky
is lit with your fires.
Not by some trick of conjuring,
do I force you into fullness,
to taste you, to pluck your ripeness
from the winding vine,
but by the wine of sheer and unsated

By need do you flower–
fleshly petals, red-lipped stigma,
tongue of nectar.
Tend to my longing!
For gold is only copper
to your closeness.