For the first eight years, I wrote poems by hand.  I'd become known for doing so, so people would come up to me at parties or festivals, and ask me to write them a poem.  This is one of those.  My mom didn't like poetry much, but loved this poem.




Funny thing about borders
is they divide us
but they join us
Like a jig-saw puzzle
in a pile it's a senseless mess
So some hand
with patience enough
to consider each piece
and soon things come together
along the confused contours
of our separation
With a quiet concern
to see the whole
one by one
each fits
and it all makes sense
like a map






This poem was one of the first I poemed.  It is from August 2002.  I was working with the DPW of Black Rock City, helping to build the Burning Man Festival.




Well them bellies do whirl

and galaxies twirl color from dust

and a pumping red thumper

pumps an Ocean of red wonder

splashing fits of fire

to tongue and fingers

and tingle like stars

all the bones of this wondering

belly to belly

eyes to eyes

sparks the purest light

becoming everything

being a thing

every coming

comes to see



What I love about this poem is the music of it, the way the words roll over one another. It's silky smooth.