I've lassoed the moon and let it go,
I've ice-climbed in a thaw,
I've sun bathed in blackness,
and walked free an outlaw.

I've sung in muffled halls,
I've crushed diamonds with coal,
I've eaten liquid things,
and cauterized a soul.

I've eaten hunger,
I've run on empty,
I've slaved for freedom,
and starved on plenty.

Some people lose,

Some people win,
Some are confused
And many give in.

When opposites reflect,
and good men kill,
don't forfeit your honor
for something you feel.

new heat

Some nights are wombs,

nine months of waiting for sound
on new strings

new-born from the old things,
and soft like the new beings

just hatched from the shell.

I worshiped my frozen ways, counted on yesterdays,

those with the vacant rays—all light the same.

Each day that same morning light, ripened from oversight,
coated my throat with night—drunk I became.

And soon light was empty, bare; shine of the devil’s glare,
I lay beneath despair, writhing in pain.

Nine months in a dark cocoon, wrapped in my linen tomb,
I broke the ninth full moon, screaming my name.

New heat from the morning star, beams shot in golden bars,
I stood without a scar—Hope was my name.

I bathed in the morning dew, dressed in the morning hue,
All this in front of you—birth has no shame.

This one beam I waited for, one spark to light ten more,
Ushers me through the door, time and again.

And I hope for tomorrow:
It too could be new if I part with today,
let go of the manna I’ve hidden away.