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The Dream Of Juniper

I feel into the perpetual motion that is this life

If not down at my shuffling feet

In the other appendages of mind.


Though your voice today is faint,

you and this terrestrial chorus one,

I sense your blistering force,


And I come to you.

Your seemingly lifeless weathered branches

reveal a quickening in the moonstruck scent 

of the blood that flows beneath this apparent death,

bolstered by clumps of ovules any one of which 

might gestate into offspring.


These fertile berries I have tasted in your gin 

under whose guidance I carved 

a one-stringed instrument from your boughs,

and learned to keep time in countless jams

under the rhythms of stars 

which seemed to never stop.


From your root foundations in my heart

I once built a home in my mind

its eventual burning to the ground

recognition of the tough lessons in life.

Like everything we make is temporary.

Except for love.


Then in those moments of love gone awry

when I’d prefer it all would just stop

you tell me it could.


But somewhere, say your hypnotizing oils

deep in your heartwood, it all goes on these red 

passions woven through the fabric of life


In the singing and playing

In the birthing of babies

In despondency and downheartedness

In love and Joy


Even in the burning

it will all go on.


Just when you think it must stop

it will all go on, you say.


All of it.


All of this.

Hold On This Dream

Big dream this recent night

It was a blazing gem: 

the meaning of life shining

on a beam of happiness.


I knew come morning it would be gone

I knew if I rose up at that moment 

half asleep in a haze,


committed it to paper

so fragile and precious

it would somehow shatter


lose what held

as hope in a world

sometimes without


Without the things that raise us up

deliver us the forgotten things

like the sun through the trees 

in the dark forest.


I caressed it, tucked it in

and we rested

and upon waking 

            sure enough, 

                specifics erased,


Something remained I’m quite certain 

would not have if I’d clung to it 

with the hooks of words


    (as we do with other subliminal affairs.)


Better left in the dreamworld 

unseen bolstering our waking,

holding me now in these darker times. 

A Child's Dream

If I tell you this story

of my body’s journey beyond,

I risk a scuffle in our minds

to grasp a common ground

and choose a peaceful path.


If our hearts are too full

of nonmalleable and hardened things,

then there is no soft pillow

for the infant of our beginnings

to rest her head and dream.


And in this dream our world

begins and ends, walks and flies,

geese pointed south overhead  

on the way to the flaming hearth 

of our humongous home.


By this fire, through stories 

you will tell, she will remember 

in the flickering of nighttime words

why she is here and where 

she must return by the end.

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