the mountain does not sleep
amidst the growing thunder,
it does not sleep
while boots traverse its surface,
thin atmosphere
making every step a feat

the mountain does not sleep
while we look upon the horizon
from such dizzying heights,
nor does it sleep
as we sleep,
soundly, without fear.

it begins to rain.

we prepare.

the mountain,
she does not sleep.


№ 98: In Memoriam

torn away
from us
sweetly, gently
(so i hope)
while doing
what we never can

found lying
beneath boughs
whom you once
shadowed, cradled
like children
— they cradle
you now

№ 97

subversive strings
echoing from
the nighttime corners
of ethereal worlds

whisper secrets
we thought lost
or on purpose

nighttime tendrils
dancing in hushed silence,
disturbing nothing
but our hearts

little habits
playing in cool darkness,
beckoning us to come
and dance in the rain


although i understand
why we play
this waiting game

why we share but snippets
at open or close of day

i can’t seem to manage
my heart or head
or soul.

sleeping nights away,
hoping to read a message
sent sometime before dawn

yearning for something,
just to know this is real.

just to know this is real,
i’ll poke and prod
and make a nuisance of myself

just to know this is real,
i’ll probably do more harm
than good.

but i have to know.

i really need to know.

you see,
my heart and soul agree,
but my head begins to wonder.


i saw a bit of Fate
resting on your shoulder
just the other day

and when you noticed
the subject of my gaze,
you smiled

deciding not to brush it away;
you smiled, and that little bit of Fate

shining like a thousand suns,
and your eyes glistened and glittered
against the backdrop of our lives

you smiled,
and i saw it all,
all that Fate could offer

you smiled,
decided this Fate should be,
and it shone

like a thousand suns,
it shone


in all the ways that matter
and about matter
and all the rest
that can’t be touched
or smelled
or seen

and never stop
for anything
or anyone
and especially not
if given an ultimatum

about wonder
and about life
and love
and all the million
little things
that go unnoticed
each and every

about the ordinary;
about the extraordinary;
how 2 and 2
make 4…
of anything,
in any tongue,
and always

and wonder
for wonder’s sake,
because that’s what matters,
that’s all we really have
deep down;
our curiosity
is our humanity,
our life,
our purpose


to effect change
is to chance ridicule, wrath,
isolation – loneliest
martyrdom – for the sake
of something better

what is worth
that sacrifice?

what is worth
that pain?

what calls
that souls who were content
abandon the path
more taken?

what drives
the madness
of revolution
that courses through
afflicted veins?

is inevitable