The Snake

To the queen of labyrinths of rotting trees

To those gray blue eyes

of mist and dark skies

The black ribbon of your tongue

Flickers like flames through dreams

your scales do not garishly shimmer

Too proud are you for such displays

Your back is the night sky

dotted with scars and stars

your belly a checkerboard

Your movements

are most slow and dignified

Your grace is unfathomable

dignified, coiling

Never displaying to your awestruck watcher

Your full length

Only tantalizing hints

you curl around my arm

and I feel the muscles ripple

against my humble flesh

I feel the power

and bow in respect

To the potential for movement

In this languid form

Your movements are like a river

undulating, forceful

Meandering with purpose

You are kin of the river


I imagine you slinking

Through sun shot rafters

Dust motes watch your progress

And while we sweat

Under the hot sun

You twist through cool caverns

I want to see your world and through your eyes

You are old

and I bow to your experience

evident in healed scars

You suffered, you endured

you live

But despite all this

There is a certain


As there is to all life

I could brush my hand

up these scales

And rip them free

but I let you slither

with infinite grace

To your home


Night Drive

The headrest emitted a faint odor of cigarette smoke and the many attempts to wash it out. She glanced out the right hand window, over the top of her coat collar which she had turned up to make herself look more mysterious. The trees outside swayed with an unseen current which did not reach her, incased as she was in her little steel box. Some minor chords drifted from the piano hidden in her dash board, joining the louder hum of her car engine. Her thoughts drifted with the notes as they dissipated into the air. Her thoughts were as capricious as the notes, though always following the same key.

The dash board was invisible in the gloom, little glowing embers of meaningless numbers starting out from the darkness. There were mountains before her, dark smudges growing slowly more distinct against the clouds which were blotched with pink by the light pollution from the city below.

She had never liked cars before she got this one. Its aged clunkiness had reminded her of why humans had built cars in the first place. As with all inventions, it had been created with the desire to move forward, upward, onward. The car was dangerous, true, but so were its relations; the covered wagon and the space shuttle. In her dreamy state, the car took on the mythic proportions of a dragon, and then the even more mythic mien of a planet hurtling around a star.

As her car began to incline up the slope of the mountain side, she returned to the idea of a space shuttle, lifting off. But this ship was not to orbit the planet or land on the moon. The ship kept going, out into the darkness. The technology was not nearly ready for such exploration, but they proceeded nevertheless. This state of the art craft was rickety and fragile in that crushing dark.

But was it not worth it? The universe hummed like a tuning note of a symphony and the ongoing hymn of the highway, like the longest heartbeat imaginable. She was now high upon the ridge and she looked down upon her right at the golden cluster of city lights, a galaxy she had never explored, each light a star leaving planets and dust in its wake. A million stars turning in the galaxy, each orbited by a hundred planets, each planet supporting millions of species, each species made up of thousands of individuals. Why do they call the universe barren?

But it was not her fate not the fate of her ship to travel amongst these stars. Her road curved left, around to the dark side of the mountain and she accelerated forward into the night, following the hum of that single, infinite heartbeat. That pulse was filled with the mystery, the unseen articulations of the universe, and she would follow it to the end of the road, and onward, into the dark.


I wish to know my mind

Well enough to know

What I could do

If I had the courage

Is there a tempest in my pen?

Or a galaxy in my mind?

Is there love in my heart?

Or cruelty in my eye?

If I had the courage to seek

what would I find?

Would I find love?

Or would I find hate?

Would I destroy?

Or would I create?

Are there symphonies

Locked within me?

I have long drifted in the cosmos

What I need

Is someone

To bring me back to earth

Without restricting

My will to fly

There is an ocean

In the corner of my eye

If I turn to look

It is gone

Sometimes at night

I feel my spine

Curve with the sky

And I carry stars on  my back

There are ashes in my heart

But seeds must be planted

Before anything grows