Bio Note: I live in Berkeley, California where I have been teaching meditation to children in my community for fifteen-years. I am a multiple Pushcart Prize and Best Of The Net nominee, and the author of nine books of poetry.
On nights of rain and after, then, before the rain, again, Earth is sliding away This is not grief, but the purging, this is not the end but a muddy beginning and it’s not the sparrows with their common songs, nor the children, like wind flying on swings it’s the passing of time with its unknown shuttle and the rain’s naked belly with wet winter eyes Earth is an aging woman with ordinary insomnia and the sky is locked around it like a birdcage making me feel the need to fly by calling out beyond the stars, as though a miracle like a token, waiting to be used so I can flee no matter how, no matter where
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