Where are you, my Spirit Twin,
with a soul like a tiger
and a chimpanzee?
When the gravity of my loneliness
cannot pull you in
and will means nothing at all,
I will stretch my tentacles into the black
and dream, dream, dream.


Nearly Bedtime

Dusk has come and I am tired. Walking has offered no revelations, so I take my place on the sloping hillside at path’s end. The chill of the evening dampens the grass beneath me. As I peer across the valley, my eyes follow the distant city lights along the horizon and I daydream about the many different people and scenarios that are playing out at this moment. As I sit in silence, I rest my unfocused eyes on big, bright orbs of orange, white, and electric blue, which dance through the vapor curling slowly from my parted lips. I surround myself in the imaginary sounds of the busy streets as if they were summoned from the lights themselves and brought to life on the wind. I give myself over to them, and for a moment, I am carried away – up to the royal purples and blues of the clear, darkening sky. Stars appear and, one by one, they twinkle into existence like the glinting eyes of nocturnal creatures waking in the shadows. The questions I harbor have always been and always will be; my eyelids suffer from the weight of them. I succumb to the gentle tugging of my dreams and sink into an ocean of sleep.

Now, Don’t Be Modest!

When man was young, and scraping by,
and knew of nothing beyond the sky,
his life, as it was meant to be;
when he was wild and he was free,
he had no time for modesty.

If we were naked constantly,
our bits would lose their novelty,
and though, by some, we’d still be sinners, living life untamed,
and freezing in the dead of winter, we’d still die unashamed. 


Love, if I could play a song for you (and really do it justice),
I would summon the elements from within
and let them knock you down.


  Tonight I stood on tip-toe and gazed out of my bedroom window for ages. At nighttime, there is nothing like the world outside. I stood, resting my arms on the windowsill until they fell asleep, and listened to hundreds of chirpy, echoing frogs. I felt my breath slowly expelling from my nostrils, and then heard it slicing through the window screen like a thousand tiny blades. As my eyes roamed the sky, they would quickly come to rest on a star. I imagined that I was a young David Jones, skinny, knock-kneed, and full of cosmic wonder. I swear that I could feel my pupil slowly dilating as I stared and made the stars disappear, one by one. I understand the need to write about it all. There is so much inspiration to be drawn from the planet Earth, but Earth is like a tiny grain of sand when compared to the entire universe! How could one not draw inspiration from the sky as well? All of this should make a person feel extremely insignificant, but the paradox is this: as minuscule as you are in this vast macrocosmic universe, you have thoughts, you have feelings, you have your SELF, in all of its beauty and horrendous nature. All of these things are what make you bigger than any galaxy and brighter than any sun. We are all wonders. We are all art. ❤

Hazel and Blue

  I used to wonder if there was some kind of dividing line that separated sky and space. I know now that there is a surface to the sky, made of glass and spread thinly over the Earth, encasing it like a brilliant and sparkling marble. It shines all green and blue and jewel-like, and when the sun hits it just right, a fingerprint appears. Sometimes I wonder how long it has been there, invisible and unnoticed. It is growing bigger, and now when I look up to the stars, the universe is slightly distorted. It’s as if a filtered lens  has altered the way I see. Tiny pinpricks have grown into huge balls of light, and there are halos everywhere. Everything is spinning, and my world is streaked with Hazel and Blue.

A Letter to Velouria

Tuesday, December 30, 2008

My Baby Velouria,

Tonight I lay next to you, stroking your hair,

and we stared at each other with sleepy eyes

(like we always do)

in the soft light.

I snuggled my face close to you, and your lashes tickled me,


and I felt your lids grow heavy.

I whispered to you then and told you that I loved you,

before you were even born,

and that I wanted you when you were only an idea.

One day, when you are older,

Daddy and I will take you travelling,

and we will wander the world like Gypsies.

 We will lie in the grass on cloudless nights

and stare at the stars,

the three of us,

and (oh, Velouria!) I cannot wait to see the world and all of its wonders,

wide-eyed and innocent,

through you.

My Little One,

even as I type this I am watching you sleep,

and I wonder if it is possible for anyone in this universe

to love another as deeply as I do you.

I wonder,

did my mother do the same with me,

when I was just as small?


I look forward to every new day with you and Daddy.

You’re like a beautiful, laughing, squealing, chubby, dimpled dream.

I love you so much.