Category: Mirrors

other peoples dreams

come without
warning or reason,
sneaking in,
masquerading as my own.

Voices, places, people
more real than the characters that usually haunt me
who refuse to leave
the morning after.

My friend, you never spoke of this,
that night in the sweat,
when you gave me a name
and now
who can I ask ?

You taught me
not to fear, or hide, or run
but to reach, to learn, to invite
that which you called visions
and I called torture.
Our last time together
I did not know that it would be Did you?
Why didn’t you tell me?

I saw a picture the other day
taken after the medicine wheel ceremony
and before our ritual
I was standing beneath a cedar
moving windchimes with my breath
to cast a Dianic circle
for a Shaman

I haven’t touched the pipe, I gave it away,
or spoken your name.
I honor you in small ways
the stones, directions, drums. Knowing
that soon I must
speak your name into the earth
releasing you.

I felt your passing
after months of ceremony
every Tuesday night at 7:00
that failed to save you
in a dream
of course.
It was like drowning
in dry ice
and I could not hold onto you.


my hand
Dance with me
down the winding path,
and live fully in your Life
as it unfolds.

Shed what covers you,
and I will paint your skin with dark mud,
marking you,
tracing ancient rhythms.

I will weave a crown of leaves,
and place it on your head,
If you will bow to passion.

Part your lips,
Taste the juice
of Life’s ecstatic fruit.
I will drink from you
with a Thirst you have never known.

Run with me,
Breathe in the strength of Oaks
that line this path,
and I will show you the secret of Flight.

Trust your heart,
and I will offer you mine.
Trust my heart,
and I will teach you the mystery of Courage.

What waits ahead
is the Unknown path.
Take my hand.

Spring Dreaming

fragile leaves, close to the earth
spreading themselves, leaning slightly backwards
a womans green hair
fanning itself against a linen pillow
and I dream of you.

wisteria budding, winding, grasping
clutching strong trunks of oak
fingers, legs, reaching
in my dreams
they, and you, are mine.

myrtle trees, bodies entangled
silken wet bark that begs you to touch
gliding along each dark gentle curve
I dream of you wound around and through me.

fountains and ponds,
spring rain and sweat
warm water on pale petals and naked skin
dripping into swollen parted lips
my thirst for you dreams your presence.

damp fertile earth, darkly fragrant
with forbidden remembered vines
decay and death, feeding hunger for life
my passion grows in the darknight’s dreaming.

freesia burns, golden, wild,
long spikes reaching out,
small flowers bursting untamable,
magnified brilliance that insists, that explodes.
you rise into my dreams with the Life of Spring.


offer myself,
hair tangled
with leaves of illusions,
hands reaching
for a distant dream,
my heart that aches to be touched,
on an alter
that may not exist.

Between the four directions
I lie,
losing my breath to your words
frightened, restless, alone.
Clutching the feather of a friend,
I consider flight,
but am held by your magic.
I wait
eyes closed
legs parted
my skin alive with desire
that you will find me.

I reach out
with my soul
my longing
my madness.
offering myself
to you.

Midnight Painting

cannot sleep.
Each time I close my eyes
I see your hands
feel your words
taste your thoughts.
Instead I play with color,
mixing and remixing shades of green.
this too
makes me think of you
stretched out beneath moss draped ancient Oaks
floating on celadon ocean currents
reflected in emerald stained glass windows

the heat does not help me,
I rise
to touch the moon.

My skin glows
with moonlight, sweat and desire.
I mix this too
lavender, camadium, crimson

My cats find me
offering warm caresses, rough kisses
trying to soothe.
They too
feel the call of the moon.
I lie down with them,
to look for fireflies,
for insight,
for dreams,
for other things
I have yet to paint.