I am not a poet but I will try, because you are sad. Here are the honest words. They are born from my own sad. I want to hold your hand and lead you through an open window. Maybe I can’t say anything to you, maybe our hearts speak different languages, different histories, but tonight we’re together. I want to take a photograph of us, right at this moment. We are happy because we’re running through the open ocean. We’re swimming with fish that glow in the dark and we’re breathing the salt of the sea and the music of … Continue reading …four thousand stars…

There is no great dark spirit, no unholy magic that looms across the sky; there’s only you. And me. There is no great golden light that blesses you and not another; there is only your own greatness, and mine: the same innate intelligence and brilliance that holds the sun in the sky, that sprinkles the starlight, that spins the earth. Call it whatever you want… That is the light you are seeking, and it is ecstatic, pulsing wildly within you, cracking the stucco of the decorative walls you’ve built around it. It taps out the stories of your wildest dreams, … Continue reading There is only you…me, us…

It comes at quiet moments; the longing feeling that exists deep down in the most secret parts of your soul. You may not admit it to others — you may even have a hard time admitting it to yourself — but the truth is, you ache to be more. You look at your life and there are still goals you want to achieve, insecurities you want to beat, decisions you want to make, love you want to find and feel, passions you hope will one day be ignited and paths that you pray will become clear. You want to know … Continue reading At quiet moments…

Sometimes, when I write, it’s like rubbing myself to ecstasy. I keep it, mostly in my body, where it can roll and plunge and climax and scream. I’ve not been stingy about it; I’m known for being generous with my passion and art. Or my ecstasy. I like the tension of holding it all out. I like feeling taut like a guitar string stretched one turn short of snapping. When your meaty fingertips glide past me sideways, I use it to make rolling melodies that glide down the neck of my instrument; I catch it in my belly, savor it … Continue reading Where I come from…

Speriamo sia femmina come la speranza e la forza di cancellare tutte le guerre del mondo che sia femmina come la comprensione delle ferite di uomini immaturi e fragili speriamo sia femmina come chiesa di carta dove pregate un Dio di anime strappate che sia femmina come la tenacia di donare vita in nome dell’amore femmina fino all’ultimo respiro fino a graffiarsi l’anima… Continue reading Femmina …

I don’t  want to love in words I need no names, I need no validation Love is in me and by my side And my own right love will remain with me and within me Speaking to me in the language of kisses, In the language of rose petals and light. I write my love the poetry of silence Where every comma means a heartbeat And every dot is an eternity of gazing in loving eyes… Continue reading No just words…