a voice from afar

when first I nervous heard
her voice from afar,
I felt the edges of time
drawing swiftly near

my veined hand trembled
as if my naked heart
had been exposed at once
to the light of the moon

and each wandering star
swaying above sang soulful
a chorus finely composing
the truest of harmonies

the walls encircling me
abandoned their pretense
and rising revealed a garden
of lush lilac and honeysuckle

from amidst the lisping leaves
I spied winged faeries flitting
from blossom to blossom
smiling the warmest welcome

and through the verdant trees
the pipes and the whistle
beckoned the eager fiddle
to join in the delightful dance

I remember calling her name
and reaching out my hand,
feeling her fingers thirstily
tickling my timid skin

and together we whirled
like fearless wisps wisely
sighing over notes plucked
by Cana Cludhmor herself

when first I heard her voice
whispering in the distance,
I knew my listing life at last
a path had truly discovered

and that nothing would
ever be the same again

Salt Lake City 11 July 2022


before there was song

if ever there was a time before song
then still I am sure was the land
filled with singers ringing their hearts
for want of just the right words
to express the truths they held dear
or the fears born of darkly silence

how maddening the unspoken tones
tearfully tearing at their sighing souls,
the mourning melancholy when folly
begets loss and limits salvation’s hope,
but much more than this: how dreadful
to love yet lack the lyrics to sing!

i am no artist, yet can in clinging feel
the beating of this heart, and thus reveal
through Brighid’s profoundly mystical
inspiration, paving the way for tales
of sensual abandon and honest desires,
and verses that simply vowing explore

more adoringly the fullest warmth
and gentlest beauty of my beloved
that naturally rises beyond any song
ever sung by the fair finest of men

Salt Lake City 21 June 2022

the music of you

there has never been
a time in my life
when music could not
teach my listing lips
to hopefully smile
or my tired eyes
to fill with the tears
that longing sheds

and yet

i have never known
a more beautiful
song than the words
that you earnest speak
to this simplest me,
no music more lovely
than the very sound
of your vibrant voice

i suspect

you could not believe
this to be more
than mere romantic
rumination, me musing
on alluringly limpid
colors, textures, tones
that idealize more
than realizingly see

but i know

and in knowing feel
and in feeling, i am
so joyfully devoted,
my love, to you

Salt Lake City 20 June 2022

when she speaks

my heart sings, yet sometimes
weeps for the dawning truth
of the life she has lived
giving generously of gracious
her, enduring so much the ills
thrust upon her by selfish others

when she speaks

my spirit playfully laughs
mapping out moments of
sheerest joy that gleefully toy
with the bounds of feeling,
peeling away layer by layers
the loss, uncertainty and mere age

tonight I will sleep embraced
by memories of her and awaken
desperate my love to meet again,
I will sigh at the memory of her
every crimson touch, and will melt
as her fears dissolve in our heat

I listen and rise, soaring gently
over mountains, ascending flesh
in flesh as we flow with the sea,
tasting oceans of merriment and hope
despite the ignorance I had dwelt within
naïvely thinking my life to be done

when she speaks, I know so surely
that this world is ours to compose
with every breath she inspires in me
when she speaks, I discover truth
in the tiniest drop of sun that alights
on the wing of the smallest ladybird

Salt Lake City 11 June 2022

Image by Nimrod Oren from Pixabay


I listened from a great distance.
Yes truly. Yet time unconcerned
vanished in mere moments
of hearing her captivating voice.
But I felt nothing of that space
weighing down upon me,
as I was sure it must have done.
Rather, it was as if she were here
beside me, her hand in mine,
her warmth imbuing each moment
with the sweetest tenderness.

I looked at the somber mountains
surrounding this arid valley
and saw them gleeful glimmer
as they had not done in ages.
I breathed in the once stale air,
allowed it to course through me
filling my lungs with vigor,
and felt immediately refreshed.
I listened to my heart beating
with a youthful vitality that I
thought had long since dissipated.

Each word she spoke touched
my once sorrowful soul
like a beloved song, like a
primal prayer, as if somehow
they had been enchanted.
En. Chant. Yes. That was it.
For there is indeed a magic,
an enchantment in the spoken word
that humanity has long attended.
As have I. So have we all. As
beyond the illusions resides a truth.

I listened enraptured.
And in her voice
I perceived serenity
and a joyful hope
beyond measure.

salt lake city 07 may 2022

how to speak

I have clung to this world, this life
with such indulgent determination,
relishing religiously the certainty
that it was meant for me and I for it.

I composed verses even in youth
although intent on teasing forth far
more than admiration from fairest
a lass I had only naively adored.

Words wound through me truly
tempting taut a mild milkweed
of a man who barely understood
pain any more fully than pleasure.

I chased the fae around the world,
wailing in my misfortunes and
climactically moaning all too severely,
like a player on a soiled stage.

I adored life with all its ambiguities.
I lusted after anonymous lovers
in the guise of a noble companion
with words borrowed from the Bard.

Yet the closest I have ever come
to unfettered unadorned passion
has been while standing naked
beneath boldly Brighid’s gaze.

Insensate now these pillars of my past
innumerably cluttering dusty drawers—
I will have no more of them, of this
persistently pointless pattering,

for inspired by you, my dear friend,
have I finally learned how to speak.

İstanbul 22 December 2021


Poetry is my voice—
it is how I speakingly
explore this life, this
worldly being bleeding
moments of profusely
personal me needing,
never knowing what
or even if these words
any meaning beyond
this me, this moment
might attain, and yet
certain of this alone:
that this world owes
me nothing, while
I infinitely always will
remain beholden for
the immense beauty
she has blessed me with
and the voice with which
to adore her.

İstanbul 21 December 2021

the author

her voice majestic
mouthing mysteries
is nothing less than

it teases my soul
tracing timidly timbers
that constitute a forest
perfectly pristine

marbled minutiae
trembling titter truths
that my hungry thoughts
insatiable engulf

but most of all I yes
must leafing admit
that listening to her
draws forth my soul

in honestly offered
tones of reverence

İstanbul 16 December 2021

your heart

have you heard
how your heart beats
have you felt its insistence
felt its persistent pleading
trembling the needing flesh
you press against me

there is a voice
i more than hearing feel
peeling back the layers
of aging bark blanketing
the tallest trees rising
over the Santa Cruz mountains

there is a voice
that shimmering hums
strumming the seeding vines
the sweetly tumbling lines
of coolest winter snow
urgently flowing in the spring

there is a voice
deep in the knowing earth
that growing celebrates hope
and hearth and ever home
and never dares abandon
the fervent heart of you

that even now beats
across the breathing
of my skin