Growing

so many possible poems

running around inside me

half-written lines of

some epiphanous moment

not so eloquent yet

and just maybe, possibly 

profound

growing skin 

and letting people in

sound oxymoronic and yet

these seem to be the lessons

of late

how do i relate?

without merging?

without taking on that which is not mine?

all the while

trying to leave all those old and worn-out 

survival tactics

behind me...

Updates...

...soon.

Love-

neptune's garden

the morning mist reveals the spiders' homes,
around every bend another
landscape of illuminated webs-
perfect drops of dew
strung along perfect lines,
like so many little pearls of light.
i smell the water
before any other sense
tells me it's there,
i take a deep breath, and sigh
that salty smell stirs
something in me
even here, at the
brackish back-end of the bay.
the grebes dive and resurface
again and again,
catching their morning meal
feeding their children,
the sound of their call out across
the water
is hauntingly wild
for such a paved little trail.

the bay stretches out and
blends in the mist, the
grey of the sky-
there is no horizon line
only light reflecting light
and I
turn to walk back into the bushes
the wet high grass,
my silly familiar friend
stops short and pounces,
bounces
back up along the trail-
i am thankful for this ridiculous
companion of mine,
who makes my laughter ring
like a pealing of bells
in the stillness of the
morning air.
he jumps for no other reason
but joy
and plays slip n'slide games
down the gently sloping inclines,
making me shake my head,
and smile.

One of my favorites, by one of my favorites...

Wild Geese


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

-Mary Oliver

let's move

i am drumming
up
positivity
and power
hopefully wondering
what the universe
has in store
for me
now
this shifting
this movement
that is shaking me to my core
turning over compost piles
finding rich soil there
so
fertile

i am calling
up images of self
unimagined
conjuring creativity
something more
free
a body that moves with pain
a mouth full of laughter
a soul unveiling its wings
i am bigger
than i ever
dreamed
before
there is nothing
more
powerful
than what i've found
living between my legs
between my belly and spine
it starting
to curve
to roll
to unwind
go ahead
ask me
i dare

who is this woman

remember?
the one with wind in her hair
that fire dancing in
her eyes
remember?

she's still in there
and she is clawing
her
way
out
digging down
opening up
unraveling herself
from sleepy-eyed-stony-slumber
surprising her habits
and waking her nightmares
drumming
pounding
shouting
howling
singing
dancing
floating
growling
beating
pulsing
flowing
here,
here,
here.

So, maybe

things aren't always as extreme as
i feel them to be
or as dire as
i percieve.

and, maybe
there is temperance to be found
in a nescafe sit-down round
something wet and little
and shaking
whimpers under the table
while
something old and stalking
creaks down the hallway past
closed doors
or, maybe
cracked open, an inch
for a glipmse
a glance
and, maybe
eavesdropping is almost like
the first step
to participating
in conversations you don't know how to have.
one day
you'll be brave enough
to join in,
maybe.

ROAR. ( or, Fuck 'Em. )

my anger rages
its flames clearing forests
burning up all the dying
the decaying
the lies long-standing
rooted in my own misunderstanding
of myself

my rage is quaking
trembling, shaking
crumbling buildings that have long-loomed
in
my inner landscape
beliefs of myself that have consumed
and
kept me from a clear view-

my fury cracks sidewalks
sends green shoots skywards
you,
stop right there,
don't come any closer
'cause now i have seen your
face by the firelight of my burning
your farce, your front, your failure
your longing, your yearning
and i won't let you
abuse me
and then crawl back begging

i am not a beggar
nor a destitute child
i am not the weak one
or the apologetic liar
i am roaring
i am rage
i am fury finally found
i am fierce and in your face
and i am walking the grounds
of this
my awakening

Merp.

i want to write so much! argh!
damn time restraints...
soon,
soon enough.

Anxiety

i wake
with a familiar weight
on my chest
today I am
anxious, at best
i am holding hope so tightly
that it squeeks
in small protest
i have been moving so much lately
sifting, shifting, releasing
and still
and yet
this feeling has come to visit once again.
like some stalker in the night
it must have snuck in
through the window
which i have left open,
for the sake
of moonlight,
it sits on the edge of my bed
unsettling my heart and my head
with dreams like flashes
like flashbacks
like so many faces and flurry and fear
why now? why here?
i have been gathering
my bones
and all those pieces
long scattered to the wind
calling myself home
back to that place within me
that i Know, exists
then this
this unraveling weight
that sits on my chest
and refuses undoing
this pressure
somewhere between ribcage and battlefield
between repulsion and a broken gait
LET ME BE
or please, just wait
til something passes
til my grounding is more tangible
til my personal revolution
can gain it's momentum
til the day is through
or until
i can figure out
what to do with you

PEREGRINA by Chavela

Suspended

Drifting
between possibilities
perspective shifts once again
landscapes of lives to be lived
spread out before me
like the clouds' shadows moving
slowly across the
mountains face

passing shadows,
nothing more
these are the thoughts that
entertain me
keep me company
tonight

i ponder and postulate
the weight of a single human life
i seek the fulfillment
of secret dreams
in quiet hours
a simple happiness in life
and yet
can never quite shake
the nagging sensation
maybe some unfounded realization
that i am held accountable
for my time
my days
my ever-swiftly passing moments
what i choose to give
life

For Friends

the smell of dirt
winding roads through forests and mountains
and lives
gratitude for such kindness shown
such care

closed springs
rain, sleet, snow
beware the pizza in Quincy...

laughter from the gut
from the deepest places
gurgling up and out
and spilling over the three of us
on this night of many misadventures

campfire finally found
we sit
sleep outside
on the ground
under the star-shine
the river lulling us to sleep
and singing us from dreams
in the cold fresh
morning

not quite over yet
pack it up
and then...
dead battery.
the engine sputters
and we all exchange looks
and laugh
get the car jumped
pile back in
and we're on the road again

Wow.

It doesn’t interest me
what you do for a living.
I want to know what you ache for
and if you dare to dream
of meeting your heart’s longing.
It doesn’t interest me
how old you are.
I want to know if you will risk
looking like a fool
for love
for your dream
for the adventure of being alive.

It doesn’t interest me
what planets are squaring your moon.
I want to know if you have touched
the centre of your own sorrow
if you have been opened by life’s betrayals
or have become shrivelled and closed
from fear of further pain.
I want to know
if you can sit with pain
mine or your own
without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy
mine or your own
if you can dance with wildness
and let the ecstasy fill you
to the tips of your fingers and toes
without cautioning us
to be careful
to be realistic
to remember the limitations of being human.

It doesn’t interest me
if the story you are telling me is true.
I want to know if you can
disappoint another to be true to yourself.
If you can bear the accusation of betrayal
and not betray your own soul.
If you can be faithless
and therefore trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see Beauty
even when it is not pretty every day.
And if you can source your own life
from its presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure
yours and mine
and still stand at the edge of the lake
and shout to the silver of the full moon, “Yes.”

It doesn’t interest me
to know where you live
or how much money you have.
I want to know if you can get up
after the night of grief and despair
weary and bruised to the bone
and do what needs to be done to feed the children.

It doesn’t interest me
who you know
or how you came to be here.
I want to know if you will stand
in the centre of the fire with me
and not shrink back.
It doesn’t interest me
where or what or with whom
you have studied.
I want to know what sustains you
from the inside
when all else falls away.
I want to know if you can be alone with yourself
and if you truly like the company you keep
in the empty moments.


~Oriah Mountain Dreamer~

Thich Nhat Hanh

The Desitute Child


Precious gems are everywhere in the cosmos
and inside every one of us.

I want to offer a handful to you, my dear friend.
Yes, this morning, I want to offer a handful to you,
a handful of diamonds that glow from morning to evening.
Each minute of our daily life is a diamond that contains sky and earth,
sunshine and river.

We only need to breathe gently for the miracle to be revealed:
Birds singing, flowers blooming.

Here is the blue sky, here is the white cloud floating,
your lovely look, your beautiful smile.
All these are contained in one jewel.

You who are the richest person on Earth
and behave like a destitute daughter,
please come back to your heritage.

Let us offer each other happiness and learn to
dwell in the present moment.
Let us cherish life in our two arms
and let go of our forgetfulness and despair.

Hooray!

Yukito!!!

struggle 'til surrender