I Love To Hear You Speak

I know I will dream of you
I do not know where it will take me
I know that deep hot desires
once aroused
take on a life
a life of their own.
I know I will think of you
All of you
Every last drop of sweat
and every sweet scent
And some not so sweet
I know I will remember you
Remember that night
And long for it again
For better or for worse
The lost light awakened
And though it found itself in battle
It remembered it was alive.
I will cling to the light
When I should
And when I shouldn’t
I love to not feel dead.
I love to dream of love.
I love the pull of your words.
Speak to me again in the night
Set my heart on fire
Make me dream of hope
With all your hot desire.
I do not know to say the things
The things that you might wish to hear
But I know when your words come home
They wake me from my slumber dear.

Hold On To Me

I hope it’s not over
The whole sanctification thing
Because I really don’t want to die here
In this spiritual place
I’m not suggesting I haven’t enjoyed some moments
Some I should,
some I shouldn’t have
But I want there to be more
And I don’t want to
have spent all my time
and others
I just hope
that hope
holds on to me.


Do you say the creed?
Do you say the prayer?
Do you still believe?
That the end will turn out fair?

Do you hate the world?
And somehow not yourself?
Who gets out alive?
Who stays on the shelf?

Who gets read for pleasure?
Who gets read for pain?
Who gets read at all these days?
I ask you once again.

On a poetic gathering, or The Desert Abbey

The group of poets who contributed last time was great. I loved reading different poems on the same theme. Thank you everyone who participated. Since I was happy with the turnout (small as it was) and more importantly the quality I have decided to try it again. I have a name for the endeavor: The Desert Abbey. I would like to hear suggestions for topics for the next Desert Abbey. Feel free to leave suggestions (and any other comments) in the comment section below. Cheers.

Dog Day Dream

Let the dog days like thunder crash
Beaten on that golden shore
White sand beach with black sand heart
Off the world we jump for more.

Let the wingèd lions roar
Piercing through distilled dark air
Foaming hissing on the shore
Echoes leaving ever rare.

All about we see a dream
Never feeling that we’ll see
Hoping is a treasured thing
Let our hopes take form to be.