Wednesday, February 9, 2011


Wide hum thrum
sternum purrs, om old cat
My legs, torso, heart,
Feel the pulse
of blood stream stone silence
the way in the way
through the way forgotten,
re-membered through bone, not brain
through skin and tones
breath calling you home
calling you
where ya been girl? Kept a pot
on for ya just in case
this family of tones, vibration of this
simple thing yes
you can have this yes you can
be no need to everwhelm them
from the place they’re calling from

1 comment:

  1. I love your poem. I write unconscious in early morn, in dark. But this one, I feel like I'm traveling inside the wetness of humanity. Vivid