The Fear

Standing atop your own head
In the dark night, over the piercing screeches of the wild-
the sounds that you don’t want to hear-
Biting your tongue and caressing the urge to wail

You’re riding your own death wave
Into the cold waters of the familial unknown


You wake up fresh, in sharp life;
A Bear on the zero point: the mission

Moving through the forest of shadows with crisp breath
and open eyes

You have become the fear


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Quiet Love

The subtlest love, to learn, to listen

Is heartbreaking at times

Tugging on the ropes that make you, you.

Often a quiet love, many times unappreciated, yet

The magnitude of silence is seldom understood

but by those who dwell in peace.


The smallest opening in ones heart is a fountain from which to drink.

The longevity of the soil of mind lives on it,

Courage. Hence


Parts of you that bloom in the wind of your spirit

Are satiated by the silent, knowing whispers of your soul:

The ears ear and the eyes of your love.



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Photography by Dids

Words I needed to hear

“All you wanted
It’s nearer than you think
You think too much
So you don’t see
You do too much
So you don’t listen
Do you love yourself anymore?
How can that be
If you are love
Try to see
With the eyes of trust
And the heart;
Have ears for your soul
That is at once the seed and the flower
And the pettles, even if
They are too fall
For a while,
They’re nearer than you think~”



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that bear the weight of soldiers
the spines of the abused
pointing down to the earth from which they came
that enfold the treasures of many households and
civilisations wisdom that is at once here and lost
or… Mounds.
that contain the dead…
for a while.
When the day breaks and the sun smiles its rest
Do we live among Hills
or pointed mounds



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Image by Quang Nguyen Vinh

Who am I

What am I?

The face in the mirror

Yes, I’m me, the body,


But I watch the body.

I watch fingers tapping at the keyboard

I make them move

They belong to me

I can see thoughts too,

They create swirls of feelings like ice cream cones

Trains move through the station of this head that I can feel and I’m the only passenger on the platform.


So I’m the passenger and there’s no one around when I really look. When I look from Me,

This floating eye moving through the landscape of dimensions that I once knew and that I could one day come to




Possibly I’m just depressed and longing for the answer to the questions that could serve me to my sustenance

but I believe in curiosity and the fruits of persistence

When falling from the path of the heart, I throw a line and hope it finds it’s destination



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Photography by Rafael Guajardo