Rainbow Homes


Sing the songs that never die

or fade in color

with passing time.


They fill these salty seas

like tears left behind

by the black ones,

by the women of the sea,

the black ones with citrine eyes.

They bask on jutted rock

and shape shift into seals.


For the forgotten,

and for the unborn,

They wrap their runes

in mist and foam

and crashing wave.


They wrap them round sea snails that slither

sea snails carved in rainbow homes.

Sea snails growing out of home,

discarding all that built up beauty,

bodies no longer allow.

So they cast that beauty out into the vast space before them,

They cast it back from where it came.

No use holding on to that which no longer serves.

It would grow ugly and useless.

Yet, when given back to the sea,

the mother wave tosses and molds the shell

until at last it rests among pebble and kelp,

swaying gently back and forth

rock her slowly to sleep.

Time, only measured by the sounds of current,

and the whisper of water through crevice creep.

Time only measured by moonlight silver strand

dancing on her surface, glowing in her deep.

And perhaps the light, one night, darts down upon

a radiant surface of shell…

just so.

Just so, just when, the claws of crab crawl past.

And extended eyes reach toward the glowing glisten

And tendrils touch myriad’s colors.

Approving of spiraled curves

and illuminated sheen,

made just so, polished just so, in salt and time’s tumble.

Crawling inward. Crawling into new found beauty.

Coming home once more.


What may be.

Always the song sings,

What may be.







Jagged cliffs





grab ahold

of the trembling sea.


Wind carves


Deep grooves

And crevices

Into her open palm.


The edges

of her






Take the dive.

So something else

can come alive.






Sunset silouette silently seeks serendipity
So you fall, floating forever fearlessly
And you count
the breaths before believing, borrowed belongings.
We long, to belong
to a place, in space
Heart haunted hears her
hears her calling
hears her longing
And she’s found
on the ground
Where water whispers winter’s wick and
Fire flicker fingers freely prick and
Samhain summons surrender
To your door
If you choose to open
And face the core.
Washed ashore, on an island, in space.
And time above. Her feet care of. A place of love.

beach sunset 2

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