The poems in My Beautiful Ruins are steeped like a soothing tea in timelessness, mysticism, twilight states, and the ebb and flow of a soul moving freely between the provinces of the visible and the unseen worlds. At times the tea becomes dark and bitter, shamanic, surreal, cruel and fragmented like the underground currents of our psyche. Poets who follow the reverie of the soul's calling must surrender to the interior descent into wounding, brokenness and domains absent of light. This is the only path into integration, awakening and luminous...