Equinox Birthday.

How is this?
How has this happened?

From the sun-spotted kiawe forest
bordering aquamarine Hawaiian waters
to the windswept douglas firs
lining the streets of this valley city —

you have grown like your namesake,
the moon, which today blooms down on you
like the flowers now sprouting out of the soil
and reminding me of the past.

I am not the woman I was, before you
were planted in my womb
and I began the descent into my Shadow
that led me to the woman I am.

How is this?
How has this happened?

I lost much to motherhood.
But I gained so much more:
your mischievous laugh that keeps me from anger,
your ocean eyes luring me to joy.

I am a deeper woman, a conscious woman
because of the blessing and the challenge
of your presence, in the morning,
sweet soft face calling me to wake up.

You are four today, number of Being,
number of the solidity of the land
from which growth can happen,
the foundation that allows change.

How is this?
How has this happened?

I delight in your intelligence and relentless joy,
I have to hide my laughter at your mischief.
You are my strength.
My moon — light in the darkness.

Once, on a hot Maui morning,
I dreamt of you, two years
before you burst forth from my yoni
in a waterfall of strength and emotion.

Pisces/Aries Solar Eclipse Spring Equinox baby.
Today I remember. Today I am present with you.

I wouldn’t want this
or you
any other way.


spring equinox song.

flowers grow
from my lungs
every time
I breathe
the sun in

at the dawn
hope will rise
from my eyes

the night will end

and this love
in my bones
roots deeper
in the dark

but I
am ready
to bloom

rooting deeper.

I’m realizing that my problem may not,
in fact, be an inability to love stillness,
or a difficulty in being who I imagine
I once, perhaps, was.

In fact, it may not be a problem at all,
only a forgetfulness that weighs
on the senses and dulls the taste
of the life that licks my lips.

Who I once was does not exist,
and in fact I question whether that I
existed at all, because now
I am, quite simply, tired,

and rather lonely, but I’m lonely when
I’m being loved as well, so I know
that I’m tired not because of too
much activity, nor am I without company —

no, I believe now that I’m tired
only of complexity, the manufactured kind
that doesn’t realize that nature
is a series of patterns, fractals, repeated

in ever more intricate and beautiful ways;
and I’m lonely because these walls
are suffocating and I want more company
than people with screens acting as a

third-party, facilitating a connection
that, without pixels and data, could
root deeper. I want to mingle with your roots
the way trees do — beneath dark soil,

where, unadvertised, no hashtags, we embrace
and whisper secrets, exchange ecstasies
down where light is the electricity
between my fingers and yours,

where we drew it down from branches
full of activity, and now we’re
grounding each other, feeding each other,
forming a vast network invisible

only to those who look no further
than a mutual reaction to
the illusions projected by flickering blues.

We could be so much more,

and I am tired.

Come root deeper with me.

dream lover. [filed under: manifestation]

You’ll be as good as alone.
as delicious as alone.

Seamless in my days and nights,
the exhale to my inhale,
and I’ll bask in your light
the way I bask in the tired dawn —

alone alone alone, yet not alone
at all.

You’ll be the steam of hot tea
the nutrition of vegetable stew in the winter
(you’ll feed me
with your very presence).

The forest dappled with sunlight
and the ocean with all its moods
quiet my chattering, incessant mind,
allowing the voice of my soul
to speak in its hues of moss
and dusk-streaked clouds;

so it will be with you.
You’ll be Home.

You’ll be where poetry crawls safely
over my hibiscus lips;
you’ll be where my heartbeat slows
to the pace of frogsong,
bare feet on grass,

You’ll be as good as alone,
where loneliness falls away
and light soaks into the soil
of my life,

where I, as the wind and the river,
forever change
and am forever the same.


When I look at the stars
I look into paradox
where the edges of my skin
dissolve into starlight
and at the same time
I am still so painfully human

It’s like my deep DNA
remembers when I was just an
in the infinite density
of the hour before the dawn

and it longs again
to be part of that
quivering with eternity
and possibility.


We laughed
as we soaked in
driving beneath
a red evening sky,

red as the blood that
poured from me as I
birthed our child,

red as the unspoken
tinging the edges
of our guffaws,

knocking on the door
like shadows at the edge
of light,

We left it behind
with the last echoes
of our giggles
vibrating into the night.

the dawn will come,
as it always does.

gemini sun, virgo rising, pisces moon.

I am a butterfly
seated on a flower
rooted deep
in moist and numinous

my mind fluttering,
my body curving,
my heart flowing;

thoughts hungry for knowledge,
flesh hungry for grounded passion,
soul thirsty for gentle,


oceanic love.