Secrince’s light

September 8, 2016








Was true in moonlight, set in space

absence of time, blue, red and black

fountains violent, desire-less sight

touching, yet separate; similar paths

Rage does slow, abound and kneeling

with page in hand, soaked with feeling

perfected sight, foot steps go slowly

come back full circle, season dwelling

Sane willows sway and hold dear secrets

sworn once more on final night

known and forgotten just to see

merged again to absorb light




February 6, 2014

Are these grooved things not fit for better things?
They that tell a lifetime
Speak of evolution
Are they to be employed by illusion?

Twisting and turning
Bending and burning
Forging and fusing particles of the past
This dust cannot take form once more

And if this Vegas show would once more perform
surely its sights and sounds would betray

These distant images arise not from depths of clarity
But  are summoned by the minions of longing

How true the air is striking the skin, now, at this perfect hour
Waste no more and wash these gifts at last
Let dust be dead as it is

Are these hands meant for disabled clutching?
For enduring the ritualistic death that fear brings about?
Let joints breath again and open to the world
Sounding pulsing instruments of awakened life

These beautiful extensions of love and gentleness;
To reach out
To touch
To pull oneself and also another upright into liberating posture

How true they move when the heart pulsates through these veins
How true the air is striking skin, now, at this perfect hour

Still places

January 30, 2014

Fix the light bulb at night

sampling midnight air just right

fur-covered explorers striding elegantly about

while skin speaks with eloquence


Red, red embers attract the wind

the end of death, breathing begins

bright blue lover with a beautiful caress

emptiness granting romance


Altering to remain the same

counting cracks on the ceiling again

flow of heat showing all the lost places

flow of love, perfected spaces


Flowers bend a knee

notes made of dreams

a time without memory

a place made to feel





April 25, 2011


photo courtesy of


                                              Footsteps fleeting as they go

                                             Fading quickly, stone in snow

                                    Removing memory lest you choose to flee

                                        The path ahead the only way to leave

.. been away so long. It’s really good to be back on here reading others’ work and letting a bit of me spill out…feels d@#n good actually. C ya around.

Submitted to Jingle Poetry – Poetry Potluck :

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