Number Ten

They say that truth is beauty

but I'm not sure that's true.

I like the lies in the dark

passed between me and you.

I like the lies hot and and whispered,

underneath the sheets.

They say that truth is beauty- if that is what you seek.

But lie to me a little while- tender like a spark.

Lie to me my beloved.

Lie here in the dark.

I know you never meant it,

or it's not what you said- but lie to me a little

while I hold your head,

against my heart, and see if it's what you want

down here in the dark.

Before the dawn and the light of day

chases all the sweet lies of love away.

They say that truth is beauty

but I'm not sure that's true.

For you're the most beautiful liar,

I'm sure I ever knew.

Think Peace

"We must agree on what matters most: kissing in public places, bacon sandwiches, disagreement,

cutting -edge fashion, literature, generosity,water, a more equitable distribution of the world's resources, movies, music, freedom of thought, beauty, love."

Salmon Rushdie

Number Five

Becoming the air.
Becoming the air we breathe,
all at once the being, and the space to believe.
It's a thousand things, every molecule has its' dance,
in every in breathing.
Every moment full of chance.
Every moment everything can change,
it's only a very brief dance.
From the whorls of your palm, to the stars
within the sky.
It's all only atmosphere
the space between you and I.
The space between the air we breathe
it's all the same,
from here to the nearest star.
All your breathing next to me,
so near yet so far.

For A Friend

Infront of I love you

stands goodbye

and wasn't it lovely in the wet green grass together?

Infront of good-bye

stands hello

for when you raise your hand in greeting

love raises it in letting go

Lost In the Desert

El Alacran- collage with orginal arcylic

Lost in the desert

wandering aimless and free.

Can you really be lost?

when there is no where you have to be.

Oh the bliss of being free

where nothing is the same.

No bills to pay,

no promises or clocks to keep

and no one knows your name.

A stranger to everyman ,and no one in a crowd

lost in the desert where the silence is so loud.

Your senses change its true ,like the blind can hear

I'll whisper the truth to you, oh to be lost

in the desert again, under the sleeping beauty sky.

Oh to be lost and nameless in the desert

only you and I.

What We Know

Between
what we think
and what we know,
lies the space of belonging.
Belonging to
time and experience.
Time to live and learn,
time to explore
and in the end
become.
For what are any of us?
But beings on
the journey of becoming
who we are
and what we know.

On Monday Morning

Coyotes wander
weaving silent tracks
down the canyons
of development.
Eyeing slow fat housecats
and garbage cans
rickracking the street.
I stop
they think they are invisible
I hold my breath as to be unseen.
Tamed by the familar
they slip away
a whisp of smoke grey fur
that wraps the hunters hunger
reflected in an amber eye.

Patience is my long suit
Not efficiency
Those Who watch me
Watching them
Wonder Why I do
What I do-
Time like Indras Net
Unravels every morning
A skein we follow blindly
Looking for Love and Hope
The knots we measure ourselves by