the answer

In the fake gypsy tentthe old woman says: Ask.
Concentrate on your question while I
shuffle the cardsrub the crystal ballstir the tea leaves.
One time I would have killed a pigeon
and read the entrails—health regulations, you know.
But I don't want to be given answers,I want to find them.
I want to walk a thousand miles to find a spring in the desert.
I want to dive into the maelstrom to bring up a pearl.
I want to climb into the osprey's nest atop the tower
that hums with secret cell-phone messages
to find the magic ring in the belly of the Salmon of Wisdom
who was captured while climbing the fish ladder
at Bonneville Damto escape hungry sea lions.
I want to search the heart of a live volcano
for a single giant crystalof dark-
olive as hard as a diamond and cradled in strands of gold glass.
I won't ask you for an answer.
Just point me a directionand I'll go.

somebody reminded me few hours ago that beggars cannot be choosers;
you tell me now that there is nothing,absolutely nothing completely unselfish about me;
and she told me that i am a disbelieving believer
i told that i wont poefuse again!

lets get something wrong for chrissake.......................


the fountains are hushed
and the quietened lover's face rests
upon the cool marble stone

a hastily gathered bouquet
of lilacs, roses and forget-me-nots
lay abandoned

three months inside an unspeakable
love, feed with kissed faces, gentle
hugs and eyes naked with need

she did not know how to bury
a heart, how to free oneself from
someone capable of erasing the
inherent terror

a lover ribboning pieces torn
from both our flesh giving birth to
butterflies, a lover who kissed the

worst parts of my soul and found
them to be unflawed gems,
worthy to be cherished