My poems are a record of my journey to understand the connection between people and conflicts. This journey is, really, an organic process to arrive at our destinations, whether that’s where we find ourselves currently in life, or the final destination—death. Conflict between the self, other people, what occurs in nature, and our communal sense of the sacred, is a major theme, along with the evocation of the process of decay, of things becoming how “skeletal” physically, but also metaphorically. The metaphorical skeletons are much like the ghosts strewn throughout the collection—ghosts are pseudo-physical beings, remnants of what’s left, the remains after all the flair and secretiveness are whittled down to the core, a foundation for something—a place to start over…This becoming a “skeleton” should not necessarily be viewed in a negative light; it is a cleansing, a way of understanding, a way of beginning again, reducing the world down to the bare bones of the self. It’s a process of stripping subjectivity away from experience. My poetry reveals the essence of human experience, a residual of desire, the paradox of the transcendent enactment of life….
You Are a Perishable Item
Throw us a bone or five. We can use the marrow, build
new cathedrals from the remains, use sparklers for our
preachers. They flash, gold streaks in a smooth corner,
forgetting there’s no glorious suffering in amber glitter.
Knock-out stars all rising, disappear into earth. It’s as good
as any hiding place, but not for protection… There is comfort
in glass mandala windows, facets, all embers and scarlets,
etched blue palms shining in the center. They show us more
than black spaces between heart beats can, build up more
than we lose. Create, then watch our bodies, our own palms
turn blue. Then Supreme Buddha enrobed in fountains
tells us, No need for this wax disco, even fish eventually
drown, (licks the icing from the mourning cake). Now
that we’re never going back, there’s no use for eyes.