my worries I fret

are pimples on the skin

of my existence

when I’m staring right at the

burning, swollen bunched up puss

it’s like I see nothing else

I’m obsessed because

I’ve become an unwelcome guest

in the halls of my mind

half a ghost

yet half alive

I sit frozen

in between what I feel

and the agony

of not having


over what happens

this very next second

if there was anything

I could possibly do

it would have to be

say yes to this flustered moment

the spasm of frantic


in the face of death

and by my own design

hold the ills i penetrate

the sickness crawls between

the hope and fear

crafting those red angry flares

the colors of my imputations

that goggle my vision

that hurt no other

before I

burst to the fore

and rob my divinity

of shining light

so the blood of christ

only stays a ritual

essence is lost

and bowing to the lotus

is flowery words

unfelt, unspelled

cast in the magic

of open space

I’ve glimpsed a taste

of freedom


in this shell

when I peeked out the


a crack that runs through

this sight

the underlying sense

that this is real

but not really here

a puzzle always happening

in the dreaming narrative

you the author hid the key

a profile of your heart

shaped by your desire

buried under layers of consequences

you called bad luck

and the map through

the heart of your

most broken matter

is what inspires you to give away

what you most desire

transformed sight

from that corner in your mind

where you finally turned

around and smiled

the trembling fear

that undisguised

resembled most a child


a space that has a song

she can’t yet sing

but the music plays along

all the while

on a black cello

I can help you find the sounds

of the song I remembered

I bet it’s the same tune

so it will be funny

giggles hugging

confidently laughing

with the shakiness

of sadness and sing along

like sisters of the heart

to the oldest chant

of love and wisdom

om mani padme hum

travel within we’re here


and no longer