Saturday, January 30, 2016

Berkeley

I like you
for what you
reveal
and what you
conceal.

Words by Courtney
Art by Sandra Moreano

Thursday, January 14, 2016

Inheriting a Marriage



I inherited their marriage,
though (I’m certain) that was not
                     their intention.

She whispered to me often,
    “Do not go gentle into that altered night.
    Like fins in an algae covered net
    you too
             will be trapped.”

Decades later
with different jewels
he forgot the jaded rules
and rubbed his
palms
(already smooth)
along the hardened pew.

She laughed at him and screamed,
"That's not my name!
The mirror belongs to no one!
The winter is full of frozen water, not ice!"

They became
compassionate strangers
with four working hands
but their
voices no longer matched
the ones they heard before.

They stood like wood
rotten from the inside.

They swam like fish upstream.

              They pretended to be   the people
                     that others wanted them to be.


Friday, January 8, 2016

The Soul's Garden





Art by Sandra Moreano                                            Poetry by Courtney Hanes.

The soul's garden reveals when it is full of grief or love,
unable to hide in the shadows, 
open like a mystic's eye 
that even when closed knows how to see. 
Time always lapses with light, 
which retires and brings a new day.
It will not remember the dirty heat, 
or the chains which some bear. 
It is too in love with living 
to feel anything but divine strength. 
Drink it up 
because that is the essence in which we travel,
in which we are traveled.