The Secret World of the Flowers

Walking in this secret garden,

all the trees and hedges appear still.

The greens and yellows and less frequent browns and reds,

await the sun’s delightful morning grace.

Everything chirps at once.

In this stillness, I sit and think of you.

Light hits flowers in the distance and dew drops off of a gently hanging leaf.

A delicate stream flows by in circles, eventually meeting the ocean.

A red robin redbreast perches itself on a nearby branch.

The sky looks infinite in its beauty.

I bow to the earth before me, knowing you’ll return

and that the flowers will bloom in your delightful presence.


Ode to Silence

When your chest is free of your limiting ego,
Then you will see the ageless Beloved.
You can not see yourself without a mirror;
Look at the Beloved, He is the brightest mirror.” – Rumi
There is so much noise here:
bustle, brashness, broken windows.
I thank goodness for this silence,
where the earth rests, breathing in and out,
aware of this deep meditation.
Once you know that you are sleeping
and that your life is no different than “Days of Our Lives,”
or “All my Children,” there is nothing else.
With no taxis rushing down 5th avenue, and no cars
crashing in the LES and no people hustling to earn some coins,
emptiness exhausts the idea of time and space,
like Messada before the sun rises.
This silence lasts for a moment; a single second,
until eyes open, and the rush lives on
like death doesn’t exist.
There are no need for temples and tombstones,
This is factious.

Without Fear

“I was alone like a tunnel. The birds fled from me
and the night enveloped me with its crushing invasion.
To survive myself I forged to you like a weapon,
like an arrow in my bow, like a stone in my sling.” – Pablo Neruda

Fear dissolves and you are mine.
The great wall has fallen,
and I can touch your hands.
The jail that held me captive fades
and nothingness takes shape in its place.
Do you see that I am yours?

Maturity set in the woods

Allow the path to show you its soul,
naked and dancing
on the edge of the moon.

Take off the bandages and
Let the wound shine
like a silver spoon waiting in the back of a drawer.

If you are lonely, then you are alone.
Follow me, I know where I am going.
There is no place
for going.

Do you know you can’t go anywhere?
Do you?

The mind spirals like a seashell that carries the world’s powers.
A path is a path
And love is love.
I can lead you there.

A Song From the Bottom

” Love is a tree with branches reaching into eternity and roots set deep in eternity, and no trunk” – Rumi

Waiting is a part I never wanted.
Your eyes are hazel, and your hair holds on
like my hand, which screams alongside the bed.

When you empty your heart, I fill the yard.
When you wear your green hat, I ask for more.

A night without you could make all of the
trees disappear and the chairs,
and the bed, and my shoes.
Without you, this house only knows how to die.

I have to come home and you have to leave.
I have to rest and the birds must sing
a casual dirge on the windowsill.

this day

This day is the only day.

The sun rises and sets

but its just an  illusion.

When I speak with you,

I am not speaking with anyone.

I fly in and out of dreams like a


high on the clouds.

The moon peeks and

waxes and wanes.

It’s all imaginary,

You and I.