for Gabrielle Bouliane (1966-2010)

Gabrielle’s last live reading. The poem below is the best I can do right now… and it doesn’t feel like enough. How, ever, can words communicate what is ripped from the heart. I feel like I should watch this video every day, so that I remember how to live. for Gabrielle Bouliane (1967 – 2010) you disappear on a full wolf moon but not really in the age of a technology you shaped from, created you send messages across miles and friends echo that feisty stance, fiery angel, oh, poet, gift-giver, love-master, my hours in your presence are locked, sealed and delivered  – – my dream-memory days and nights spent on projects for literary minds together building a factory to keep those hearts alive smoke breaks outside the office in rusty...

Hello Mister Moon

The other day I saw an excited little girl run out of a furniture store and look up into the sky. “Mister Moon says hello!” she declared to her mother. “Hello, Mister Moon!” the little girl cried and waved at the moon. Ah, to hear the moon…

Dropped Pages – Whale Calls

Late for the train. Let’s blame it on the time change, shall we? This was a poem dropped from Every Day Angels and Other Near Death Experiences. whale calls clouds in two separate directions      move overhead skink on rock, copper head world a smooth glass the largeness      of your palm on my ribs I was going to sleep before in the jungle your smile I couldn’t help but love that every step gentle      the way it should be each stop equal to the last or next balancing at the base or edge of something I understand you hanakapai beach milky way fired from pink you take pictures of a young couple celebrating by the shore           like...