1801, 2020
the game
believing myself not to be
(i am clear love
i am pure light)
i pick my way through the
ashes of what fear made
1801, 2020
permisso ?
let me in
that i might burn to ash
what of you
remains
1801, 2020
blind
for how long
are you thinking
you can keep this up ?
making as if to hide that great light
inside meaner and meaner rags of
story ducking behind the leftover scraps
of what you pretend to be
you think we don’t see it ?
1801, 2020
love
i had not expected her
to be so vast so all
including
i searched but couldn’t
find a single thing
outside of her
even hate
1801, 2020
a volte
as I come up
through all my incarnations
sometimes
i feel like the slowest
child in school
1801, 2020
forever
white road
pink moon
tree twisted in time
i have been meeting my friend here forever
before the doors of time
blew open