God save the catholics.

if jesus calls me second-best
if i was made from man
if i must keep my sermons silent
i suppose i was made what i am

if tradition is the law
woman is one short of seven
if good god tells me i am flawed
i don’t want to go to heaven 

if married men are too impure to teach
if wives are just possessions
well you cannot covet me because i am made 
an animal 
free from oppression

if woman is not man
and man should have only woman
if god can’t love what he created
then i don’t want to go to heaven

these ancient laws are dusty
the church is not a court
if i do go to heaven
dear God,
She’ll stand in my support.

tree.

outside my window stands a tree

his ancient posture incomplete

his green leaves whisper in the breeze

he rents his arms to birds and bees

i've known this tree since i was small

i clamored through his hollowed halls

i flew his helicopters on

the strong support of summer squall

this tree has braved both storm and snow

he blossoms back from seasons’ woe

and when i have nowhere to go

i thank his limbs for my repose

he'll never fight or disagree

if i lay sleeping at his feet

he'll never live to see the sea

but there's no doubt he'll outlive me

tell me how you really feel.

 close your mouth

keep your ears open

sing silent words

tell me how you really feel

take the hands off your eyes

take the hands off your heart

look at the world around you

tell me how you really feel

my sister, my brother

i am you; we are each other

i love you very deeply; never-ending

so tell me how you really feel

walk through a fog

release your soul

find the sun with your heart

and tell me how you really feel

you seem so nervous

you seem so angry

i understand you

tell me how you really feel

it’s all because of

the hands on your eyes

the hands on your heart

tell me how you really feel

eurydice.

there once was a springtime

dill lavender blue
the scene never softer
in nival review
the serpent; the may queen
danced fate’s minuet

while lovers and sisters
played long on their frets
the singers, the stardust
took may to the moon
where white holy larvae
spin tapestry loom
the may queen, the moth queen
dance porch light ballet
he caught her; he kept her
she won’t fly away
she tried and she tried
to break free from her home
she’d sit and she’d cry
in the cramped diamond dome
that night she got out
when he screwed off the lid
he turned just to hold her
she’d already left
he turned just to hold her
but she’d already left

things that matter

time is wonderful
lost and lost forever
all that’s left is a trail of memories
our brain is just a storage facility for the imaginary
what has occurred does not exist but for what we remember

i draw the importance of my life
from the memories i have
warm places in my mind
that i do not mind keeping close to me
remnants of the material memories that slipped between my fingers
and into my heart
where they became intangible
just imagination
because the past has wiped itself clean