White Feather

A white feather,
From one of my ventures,
Resides on my vehicle dashboard,
The air through my windows on a hot day
Lifted and carried the feather
In flight,
As such things are meant to;
Scurrying to recapture my feather,
I am reminded
It was never mine,
It never grew from my body,
And yet now I hold to it
As if it were a part of me,
In a way, it is,
The remembrance of its coming to be with me,
And the miles,
Mishaps and memories
I also collected with it present;
The feather,
Worn but white,
is a symbol
Of what I have been through,
Carried by the wind,
To always make a landing,
With grace,
Wherever I may descend.

The Nostalgia Swing

The creaking of the porch swing brings me back,
And forth,
My brown limbs outstretch to power the rocking
And I feel the air brush against them,
Like when I was small
And my legs dangled from a sun-bleached wooden swing
That like my maternal grandparents
I wish were still here today,
This was their house,
The rural abode
Where I, their first grandchild,
And a then newly dubbed city-kid, would return
Again and again,
With memory of toddlerhood here,
With chubby caramel-colored baby legs
Sitting in and exploring , and feeling the fresh cut green grass,
on this same land;
This was my first home
It always will be,
It was where my mother carried me in body,
Herself breathing in country air,
In this her family home,
It is where I swing now,
With a new bench beneath me,
And older, lengthened tan legs
moving me,
Back and forth,
Still I have always been
Between places,
In movement,
Like this swing,
And that is what I aim still to do,
To swing back between here,
And my New England home of familiarity;
Between the two places
Distinct accents call me back,
And forth,
incantations to return again
And again,
The swing with its own creaking accent calms me
And keeps me in place for now,
Both driven and pulled by nostalgia
While I figure out best laid plans
To be
In each beloved place,
In each their own time.

Undercover Magick

What magick did I make as a child;
Undercovers imaging the future?
Let me remember this art,
To manifest a future in which I
Am loved, by one I can trust,
A romantic and life partner who will never hurt me.
Beautiful life with cracks
Where the light gets in
And out.
May it be so.

(Post relocated from my Thepurplepaintedbutterfly.wordpress.com blog)

Version (Penguin) 3.6

“Version 3.6”
I wrote this long before I even knew what it would feel like
to be loved and pulled in a way that…
or wait, I did know. I knew in a juvenile version,
a purified, clear love
that had no expectations
no demands. and here we are
so very close and yet so far,
in all directions,
cycling closer moment by moment.
i’m impatient. How do you wait
when so so very close?
i feel your calm,
and humor in seeing me squirm
for something i am so positive you’ve known
for so very, very long
and you soothe me, not to worry

no harm no foul,
all in its right time.
that the way love goes
its not about the phsyical
its about something that transendsc all we know so well
all we know to well
and here we are in this virtual space
and i know
the desire was never a sin
it was a symptom of the pull
of being so close. often derailed,
malfunctioned by lose wires

you and I
we each broke
in and now we see the path we’ve traversed,
our shuttle to nowhere but each other.
could you drive in your sleep and find me?
dont, but
You’ll pass familiar attrations,
ones your history past
and past has imbued in your mind with memory,
but now its time to smash
smash the pain,
and realize those memories
were just place markers for everything else

your loves are real
and syphoned into different bodies
for different purpose,
patience, love
it is what you think,
not all things you think are true,
this one is.
and you know
both do


both do.

“Game lost”
funny is cute and damn
I must make it so hard
to keep back all you know.
this is the slowest
most excruciatingly tender end
to a game,
i’ve already lost
as soon as I remembered
and thats always been the goal,
to lose, to let it go, to find
yourself in another body,
and together to grow
of ourselves

together grow
by raditaitng the want, the need, the care,
the love, the 2 am, 3 am fixation
in to a powerful tangle of ecstacy,
we’re both so good at that,
too good…
but times almost up.

times up.
that scares you
it terrifies me
how much needs to tell us
this is it?
and if its not…
it is.

“Children’s Wishes”
we manifested this as children,
before and when we knew each other,
child prayers, spells, wishes
are the most powerful,
you begged me to STAY
to know you

and you watched,
every word flow from my mouth
and pen,
before we both understood any of what it meant,
before we both “woke”
body, mind or soul,
we were each others alarm,
sirene you sang,
and it got me

“Forgot to Hide”
i sang to you
and I forgot
why I might want to hide,
and here I am doing the same,
with fingers and words,
and I want,
and I need,
and i desire
and I want you to have everything
in the same
and new capacities,

“Beautifully Grown”
you made yourself
everything beautiful you wanted to be,
and I made myself the same,
of and for me
because that it just who we were,
and you fell
in all ways to the reality
and the possiblity of future,
and then you saw me

and damn…
no other 4 letter word captures
the breathtaking shock
and what every fantasy
of yours has been wrangled
and poured into one body,
one embodied soul that you fell for
in a different time and place,
as a spirit, mind, body.

“dimples “
Seeing that smile makes me
feel like a child again,
and points me to eyes
eyes that I cannot figure out the color,
chocolate moonstone eyes
that color change
everything you
is a testatment
to all the things i wanted for self,
or admired in
a dream love….
right down

to the wetsuit

And my favorite animal

how better to lure the Oshun?


Demand of the Divine

Night is falling in too soon,


Too soon,

The wind abruptly lifted from our lungs as we watch,

And recognize,

Too soon,

The good and sweet we recall of you,

Knowing this is too soon,

For the life that is yours to be removed from ours,

Tears they fall,

Or tears they stall,

As disbelief sets in,

We look to the great beyond

Wondering what resides there,

For you,

For each of us,

Demanding why,

Of Spirit we still long to know,

Long to understand,

If there is a why in the divine,

And what that is,

We demand to know,

For why do the sweet, the young,  the innocent, the good need to go,

And in unideal manners,

And why should and do the good die young,

This is penance for those who remain, 

To watch as you go,

We cry,

As weeping bodies,

Our sacrificial gift for one we love,

You are slipping into the greater existence now, 

in and around us

Joining with spirit,

We will mourn your corporeal existence,

But aim to know you on an entirely new plane,

Just as you will come to be,

May we know you more,

In memory,

Then we ever imagined of possibility.