winter arrived with a song
(and a roar!)
the turning wheel brought new light
(and lusciousness)
hearts drawn on steamed windows
(with music and delight)
like a dervish, i whirl!
like a primrose, I open!
the honeysuckle is a tangle of naked branches
(summer, a distant memory)
querida quanta dragon cloud blowing past a harvest moon querida quanta scent lingering on my fingertips after an afternoon dalliance (or two) querida quanta pixelated silhouette of a lover bringing memories of organic encounters querida quanta pashima warming autumn breeze rippling the edges of wondrous memories querida quanta ripples of Love bursting my heart wide…
I finally told you that you can’t make me love you and I can’t make me love you. I finally told you your anger is your own and that I will no longer let it in. (for I am far too precious to be maligned) I finally told you to let go. I have. Here’s…
Let my life not be measured by gold or productivity or towers built for someone to later knock down Instead, let it be measured by the number of kisses on my neck, my forehead, my lips (and elsewhere). Let my life be measured by the number of times I have heard or spoken the words…
He spoke of being beaten in an off-hand way. Quiet tears streamed down my face.
poppy seeds scatter to soil illusions shattered dead rose petals fall softly
blame is a sour boar piercing the heart with fierce tusks of shame creation craves compassion and the flickering love dance of a gentle heart