Because all experiences are valuable.

Thursday, May 12, 2016

Every Day That is Left

Showered with dust
from fleet bee left-behinds-
his crop-dusting feet,
so unwitting and wild,
the field a mad riot,
sowed at last year's tea dance,
floral progeny bow to the wind
and make pacts,
to live full this one Summer,
to bloom bright until death,
to make love,
like a flower and bee-
every day that is left.

for Melanie A. and her bees

Sunday, April 3, 2016


I have bled in all the colors,
Black disaster, glory green,
Red ribbons on the church doors,
Yellow ribbons on the trees,
and Blue ribbons for the winners,
few and far between.

I have bled the same for ages,
petty highs when life was sweet,
orange shirts to mark the abject,
violet bruises on their cheeks.
One white sheet to lay your head on,
rescue comes in sleep.

Sunday, January 3, 2016


We would like to think we stride through life,
but for the most part we crawl,
dragging ourselves daily
through force of will,
seeking to generate enough lift
to overcome the gravity of our situation.

We have all flown at one time or another,
pervasive memory
imprinting us with soaring beliefs
we wear like black and white tattoos of lines,
written in the script of ferocity,
the block print of survival.
A graphical representation of times
our fathers tossed us high in the air,
our mothers hugged us near and laughed
at our antics,
and all the times we won-

The anxious battle within...
The tedious battle without...

The absolute marvel of the human mind's capacity to endure.

Monday, December 28, 2015

The Lineup of Ghosts

Childhood prepares us for this,
The wet, the grey,
The last heartbeats of December,
The sound of wind and water
through barebranch and pinetop.

It need not be said
To hold tight to what you love,
Only to be added
That we will all be called to
The lineup of ghosts,
To pick out the saintly from the slothful
and take our own place,
With only ourselves to know
Where we belong.

Friday, November 20, 2015

Lost Mermaid

It is hard not to go where the world takes you,
the blood in the water is compelling,
and full of frenzy to be a shark,
voracious feeding is obligatory.

I have lost my taste for chaos,
I wish I could swim for the exit,
but all signs point to the roundness of the globe.
I am swimming in circles,
making water angels with my arms,
singing songs to myself and to those
who would listen,
stroke after stroke,
mile after mile,
until my eyes fill with waves no longer.

T. Sylace
praying for all people who are threatened in this world,
may you never know what it is like to be terrorized.

Wednesday, August 5, 2015


Acid tears once scoured my face
the way only water and pain can-
Deserts are beautifully dry,
alive with death.

Teeming with naked quills
you fall upon in spite of yourself,
scorpions who scuttle away
even as you run after them
begging for even a tiny sting
to remind you there was once something
so much kinder.

Even the sand is red and coarse,
my chapped hands stacking stones
so stunning, their sunset striations
fool me into thinking I am home,
when what I want is rain-
of all things to hope for in a desert-
as these blisters and burns
take the shapes
of everything I could have been,
and everyone I ever was.

Thursday, June 18, 2015


I don't know why...but I'm thinking of the amazing Dr. Libby tonight. A wonderful friend, teacher, and health care professional of dedication and devotion to her healing arts. This is for you, Libby!


What lies we tell ourselves,
Crafted for this situation and that occasion.
What bastards we are
denying truths,
obliterating beliefs of those before us
as if we were the only ones
who ever lived here.

This place is not ours,
We cannot hold it-
only grow it-
or be buried underneath,
a whole world
outside ourselves, that does not know
nor care
that we exist.

I dream of millions,
laughing, happy, enjoying the
company of love.
At peace with what they have.
In harmony with where they are.

A place where it is okay to be silent,
it is okay to know
that there is joy in everything-
even death.
And that the beauty of ruin and re-birth
are one and the same.