Moon Angel

She flies on wings of ivory cloud,

the sun no longer gold,

within a silver amulet

upon a chain she’ll hold.

Her ebon hair now dancing

in the gentle evening air,

She sees the dreams of mortals

as she says her moonlight prayer.

There will be those she’ll cull tonight,

and those she will give dreams.

Her fingers gentle on their brows,

aglow with moonlight beams.

O come now, sweet Moon Angel

for your restless servant waits,

to once again ascend with you to

great Orion’s gates.



Knowledge Among Ruins

I was lost, for how long I don’t remember.

There was only day night, hill and river, hill and river.

At the summit lay the ruins of a long forgotten castle, or fort,

pummeled by centuries of elements.

It sat now like a petrified toad on the hillside, with only

the sighing mountains for company.

Taking shelter from the strengthening winds,

I sat, closing my eyes, succumbing to the exhaustion of the climb.

Beneath your hands, a treasure lies…

A voice, but disembodied.

Go on, partake…

I scratched the soil with calloused fingers.

Open, and speak the words…

“I don’t know the language.”

It will know you, traveler. Speak them.

And so I did.

I no longer see the ruins, the sun, the starry sky, the sentient stones, the mountains, the spring grass, nor dunes of frosted snow.

I have become all,  my memory seeded into the land, and

all the land seeded into me.

The book still lies just beneath the spongy soil’s surface.


Be True

She is leaving now, but perhaps not forever.

Her desire was for better,

but nothing improved.

Life itself eluded her, and the wrong things

occupied her time and body.

There was no longer

anything or anyone

to keep her bound,

and in the incorporeal realm

of her wishes,

not a one came true.

She was not true to herself,

and she would make that right.

It would be today.

It would be right now.

But maybe, just maybe,

not forever.

The Child and The Drum

From behind the curtain

her voice

holds tremolo and vibrato,

high and clear,

sweet and lilting,

with a hint of poignant sadness.

The drum pushes, pulses

her ululations from underneath,

building the bridge

that connects

the world to the origin

of its song,


forgotten, debated,

documented, erased,

burned, rescued,

savaged and salvaged,

but ever


The child and the drum.

Two become one,

and the heartbeat

keeps the time of memory,

even now.

A Burst of Blue

Behind my eyes,

a dream of blue waters,

blue souls,

blue bubbles,

blue hearts,

and blue love




the essence of floating spirits

and the color of transcendent skies.


It holds a

midnight sorrow

and an afternoon romp

in its hands.


It belongs to all,

but is special to us.


Unleashed, it holds me


Kissed of the Sun


kissed of the sun,

birthed of the earth’s red clay,

stands a goddess in the green lush alcove

of branches that arch to protect her.

A sorceress that magic

willingly surrenders

its secrets to,

she only has to turn to me

to enchant me

with silent spells

of regal beauty.

She binds my mortal

heart to hand,

and bids me

love to worship her.

Surrender is all the sweeter then,

and for a time, I too, am kissed of the sun,

yet banished at moonrise

to dream once more

that a goddess

once loved



*art by Charlie Bowater on

The Sandman’s Bride

Sleep, my daughter, for I am but a myth,

A Muse, they say.

A thing to make a man’s heart tender,

A creature that veils a woman’s eyes with love.


I know not what I am,

only that I was born to harvest

the very stars I made,

eons before you were born.


Sleep, my son, for I am but a mother,

a deliverer of dreams, they tell me, that bring smiles to infants,

and nightmares to those who see the world

through filters of neglect.


I know not what I am,

only that this light is made to sift

through my fingers and dapple

the clouds with twilight colors.


Sleep, my children, for I am

but a shadowed, masked, and transient being,

I’m told.

A fantasy of space and time,

contained in the imagination,

freed and manifest in the mind.


I know not what I am,

only that this mask

hides me from my own soul,

and the warmth of these clouds

console me in the dark, but are not

a lover’s embrace.


Sleep, my darlings, and know that

you are limitless as stars,

boundless as eternity,

and eternal as love.


I know not what I am,

only that I share my heart

with you, and we are twinned

in mind and purpose.


Take my hand, come with me,

and sleep.