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Your lips pull and tear
like slow waves
breaking on my beach

The rocks of my body bones
worn deep with furrowed scores
pitted from a thousand rains
eternal body to my body
water to my stone

I want a thousand years
so you can shape me in your image
beat a tattoo of decades on my skin
turn my stone body into sand
to run into an ocean
stirring and renewing
you'll be body to my body
constant water to my stone

then sing hymns when I am lost at sea
pray deep prayers when you hear telling
of my ship in wicked weather
for we have become humans

No longer elements we feel
earth beneath our feet
we feel clouds begin to break
and go on like this
till we rest together buried
shallow in the soft dirt

Soon a thousand years go by
and seasonal rains arrive
they trench deep rivulets
within our hidden bed

And now a river courses through our bones
milling our bodies to deep dust within the earth
turning old flesh to new stones
and old bodies to new bodies
of water to melt into the heavens
pregnant with thunder they groan

rain down
rain down
rain your body on my body and your water on my stone

Kelowna Wind

down off those cold bald peaks--
down in the valley,
where the trees scratch their backs against the legs of the hills,
and the rocky shore aches against the lapping waves--

you reached across the lake
with your feathery fingers
and ran right through me.

and in the explosion that follows
I became the million singing birds, winging
their way to freedom, to some greater heights
than I have ever been allowed to know.

but then you wrapped your arms around me
curled your hands around my shoulders,
lifted and shook me

and I became a tree, and I took root
among the spreading wiled willows
along the shore.
straight and tall
hands uplifted in exaltation
branches swaying in expectation.

you caught my face like a flag
and I lifted it up,
unfurled.
Unfurled to what?

there must be hands in these hills!
there must be a song that sings these birds!
there must be a seed that spoke these trees!
just like there must be breath in this wind!
there must be a banner on this flag!

Whose banner is my soul, my hands, my breath, my face?
Could I be the temple of some unsung, amazing grace?

Welcome to the Cave!

Welcome, friends and followers of the divine madness.  Cave-dwellers, poets, quasimodos, Emily D's.  This is the belltower, the drawer tucked away where you can stash your poems. Except that we all get to see and share in what you've written. This is the wall of the cave where we get to scrawl our verses like figures in red ochre.

We have greatly enjoyed getting to know each of you over the past few years and the poems/writing you create.  In this spirit, we would like to invite you to continue sharing and growing in your gift.

Please feel free to claim a section of the cave as your own.  Submit any creative written work that you would like to share and put your name as the label.  Writers, if you do want constructive criticism, please ask.  Otherwise, readers, feel free to comment on the poems that you enjoy.

We are looking forward to reading what you create.

-Cam and Derek