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Moon With Her Sail Full of Myths

Vanishing in the Blazing Night

Beside the Still Fallen Sky

On the Trail Between Orchids and the Otherworld

What to Pack For Your Departure

Earth Cry

Some Things Beyond Dimension

Explorer in the Undivided

One Spark is a Galaxy

Worlds Out of Nowhere

Unforgiven Rapture

Collective Dream

Now That You Are Infinite

Transcendence of Fury

What Little I Know

One With the Never-ending

Earthbound Supernova

The Majesty of Destruction

In the Infinite Now

Why We Love Dogs (A Little Something in Celebration of National Dog Day)

Postcards from Eons Past (Images from the James Webb Space Telescope)

Sanctuary of Flame


Glistening in the Dark


Words Like Smoke and Sand

The First Iris

The Totality of You

Winter Meditation

The Language of Wonder

Storms of Jupiter

Digital Chains

Plunging to Heaven

On the Shores of Cepheus

Why We Love Dogs (A micropoem)

Ascension in Gold

Crucible of Light

In the Last Green Hours

The Angels of Hawksbill Mountain

Beyond the Gates of Orion

Sanctuary Within

The Sacred Opulence of Abundant Joy

Sitting With Stars

Light of the Tempest


Follow the Birdsong

Celestial Rite

One More Moon Beside Me

Legacy of Ash

Born in a Field of Light

Resurrection in Albemarle County

Dialogue With Silence

Moving Past the Dream

Deadly and Merciful Blue

Sky Full of Legends

On the Border of Earth and Being

Who You Really Are

Council of Stars

Scattered As One

Unfinished Bridge To the Infinite

Scenes from Within

Moon of Secrets

Memories of the Kingdom

In the Church of Ordinary Miracles

Finding Religion in Sperryville

Theater of Shadow and Light

Sapphire Birth

Web of Infinity

Voices from a Choir of Stars

Traveler in the Unseen

Into the Silence

A Soft Ascent

Through a Sacred Forest

Innocent Questions

On the Bridge After a Storm

The Sound of Creation

Your Song in the Ivy

Universe Within

New Empire

Another Afterlife

Where the Wind Lives

Another Kind of Prayer

Indigo Fire

Last Inch of Flame

Blue Home

Sacred Crone

What the Deer Understands

Some Water Lilies I Used to Know

Gates of Orion

Requiem for Yesterday


Blue Home

Every night the sea is something new.
Sometimes it is lavishly empty,
finding its own light within
and other nights
the moon cracks open on a sheet of indigo
—water and sky are one—
ebony and raging snow,
love and loneliness

and that plastic bottle

and an ocean more somewhere
choking what is left of our indigo dreams.

Every day the forest is born
and when I am here I have everything I need:
its lungs breathe for me,
its beauty blazes inside me like
the end of days,
but joy is not quite here yet, just
peering through the black eyes of
the tangled path.

All these thoughts of endings.

Around the world
these living meditations,
these wooden poems,
these temples
are condemned like medieval heretics,
consumed in greater agony than the
red hunger of a swollen eastern sky
without an audience.

I don't know when I began to miss
the luxury of not knowing
and always feeling that I
was home,
I only know that we killed
our mother while she was still
teaching us about the strange galaxies
inside each handful of soil and the
sorcery of acorns and mornings dripping pine
and mossy happiness that kiss us into
awareness when nothing else could make
us want another day.

She lived a fierce and beautiful life:
tyranny and majesty,
an old soul and an infant,

and broke off every piece of herself
to the looting wolves inside us

and here we are wondering why the
sky is screaming
while she bleeds ice and fire
and we realize we may never leave
this shiny new carnival-world
where we may never again fly without wings
upon the scent of glassy mornings
or float away on oceans that dream
uninterrupted by fragments of our
plastic lives

or see the stars as they truly are

or drink or breathe
without questioning

or simply feel that we have everything we need.

Now who will feed us the wild, leafy air?
Who will sing us to life
when the doe-eyed forest
fails to speak?

Patricia Joan Jones

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