Published: 1 October 2024

A light house

If I live in a house filled with light,
would that be a house made of light,
or would such a home be a light house
to beacon a welcome to love
and those who seek it?

Be a home for those abandoned to darkness,
now, resettled with brilliance that burns
to heal the soul, expose the wounds,
allow alternatives to flourish
instead of burial by weeds,
compression into compost, mulch, detritus,
designed to turn you into dirt.

Light dispels darkness, purifies air,
exposes rot to make new soil, new growth,
the first signs of change, to alter and replace
what remains, to lift a house above its
foundation by filling its walls with windows
that each might open eyes onto
a home illuminated with unbearable
desperate wonderful inconceivable love
that shows itself blindingly to the world
to proclaim, this too is for you.

More Poetry:

The Wall

Walk with me.
Meet the wall.
The wall is the end.
Deep, dense,
charcoal melt into
rusted metal door black,

Step in the soil

Roots are steps in soil. Steps to rise
upon. Steps attended by dark life, earth being
what roots must dig into. To bury these seeds
knowing they will rise again. To bury hands
in rich dirt knowing things will grow well here.
To bury one’s face in a bouquet of lilac without
allowing one blossom to touch your skin.

snow

every flake falls so easily
so many and each one an individual

everything it covers becomes beautiful
it’s impossible to describe these crystals
no more than fear, elegance, truth
bare as you can see
not white — blank

upon the event of my suicide

I hope it isn’t a surprise
I practiced every day, another
unsuccessful attempt, the next morning
recognition of failure, and resolve
to try to do a better job today

I’ve been robbed (of my heart)

Distracted by the irresistible,
misleading is how you stole my heart.
Not just sleight of hand, no, plenty of it.
Grand larceny I’ll never report. Nor admit.
I prefer to believe I’m worth stealing.

Related

The Wall

The Wall

Dec 9, 2025 | ,

Walk with me.
Meet the wall.
The wall is the end.
Deep, dense,
charcoal melt into
rusted metal door black,

read more
Step in the soil

Step in the soil

Dec 8, 2025 | ,

Roots are steps in soil. Steps to rise
upon. Steps attended by dark life, earth being
what roots must dig into. To bury these seeds
knowing they will rise again. To bury hands
in rich dirt knowing things will grow well here.
To bury one’s face in a bouquet of lilac without
allowing one blossom to touch your skin.

read more
ducks cannibals skunks porcupines

ducks cannibals skunks porcupines

Dec 4, 2025 | ,

a fable
There once was a village of well fed cannibals. The area they lived in had lots of food for everyone, from fruit to fish in the streams, good roots, seeds and nuts, and people to hunt. Originally, there had been a lot of people in the area.
As I said, this village of cannibals was well fed. A time came when there weren’t many people left to hunt. If people did move in, they lived in forts, had weapons and acted very fierce whenever the cannibals visited.
Some of the cannibals were hurt by that attitude.
“You try to be friends and see what happens!”
“It’s as if they don’t want to be eaten! And I have this new recipe I can’t wait to try out!”
Now that there were no people left to eat, the cannibals started to feel hungry. That’s when it began.

read more

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