In my hand a stone evokes physical beauty- in dreams a magic presence. First borne of the sea— unstable, like fire flowing. Stones are alive, they radiate outward from dark primal centers invisible to the eye. Inhabiting the forest, hills and streams, mosses...
Says the butterfly: Her pattern akin, to the riddle of Mercury. Says the dragon lizard fanning the trill sound about his throat. Says the charred turtle, round in my dream,her face carved invisibly into the wind, Her shell imbibed with primitive markings: The many...
I seek your untamed shores. Where fruit trees ripen, grown out of blackest marrow, ghosts echoes, whisper in the winds. Your sounds wait,yet to be sung. Your language is written into the barks of trees like holy words on tatttered pages. Life sap flowing through the...
Oh homage to the scorpion, you Prickly and crustaceous, like a bright and white, pearly sun Curling up. This slender, scurrying across the sand, His sap as sweet ambrosia. To feast upon his own poison, bathing in the harsh light of the desert, relishing its...
The flower is a vessel of transformation. Flowers reminiscent of a song. The butterfly closes her wings at rest. Seeds like truth, grow into the magnificent, wise, and ancient oaks, deep rose red madrone, the manzanita trees, the grasses, poppies, and peonies,...