I would like to carve a new path through stone
Stone they haven’t blasted a tunnel through yet
I would like to carve a new path that wouldn’t be perfectly smooth
But there would be a sureness in the way forward
Not a slide but a slope
It would be too dark to look behind
Too dark to see the other side
But a solidity underneath, sand
no longer clinging
Bottoms of my feet flat against the red earth.
Category Archives: Uncategorized
three peaches
what beautiful human perfection
lies in your story of three peaches
two relished
one neglected
if only you could trust the gifts embedded in your neglected parts.
slinky
What would I be if I didn’t lose myself in you?
They say I’m supposed to start seeing myself through my own eyes.
You rub up against me and leave
Stains
It’s strange when I glimpse the being with my name
And recognize how much she’s aching, forget a pillow
I’ve given her gravel to sleep on and black mud to walk in
She doesn’t really know what it’s like not to
Slink
She’s been healing for so long and she’s also just begun.
widely
Sometimes when the wrong color is on the wrong cap, I think about eating preschool lunch at the State Fair and the ex who overpopulates my dreams, I don’t want to be holding myself back, comparing sole-focused types or easily drunken types, my neither abyss leaves me drowsy for days and in between wildly alive, rarely satisfied, the good kid in me clarified, I chew through calm for something beating, it’s a rhythm only I’m good at repeating, trusting the things that slip away, and those that won’t unstuck, it’s hard to get off a ride when it’s fun, but when you throw up, whether you like it or not, you’re done, notified ending, I’m not sure I need the world to watch this transitioning digging for genuine in a sandbox.
***
When I was a child
in between the oozey stickiness
leaks and holey door screens
there was something sharp in my experiencing
a freshness, an unfolding
at the same time, everything was permeating into me
there was no shell for my soft body
I didn’t even know a shell was possible
So I shrunk away eating
a lot that wasn’t mine
some was beautiful
most made my belly ache
hard to trust that this would slip away
it was constant cycling
When I finally found those who gazed
at me with understanding
it was the unfolding
I could see more clearly
gentle dirt to walk on
tears fell
an embrace
a steady unwinding
I worked hard not to blur the lines
I’m still working
there is so much more space between my aches now
a bright ribbon unraveling, I’m ready to follow
believing the possibility of living widely
with fresh softness.
a redirection
Cruising down this lifeway
wondering if it’s possible not to go so fast
bouncy castles deflated now
i can see that ache inside of you
wondering how to do it right
i ask myself big questions
i give myself big answers
not an answer but a direction
taking further sweeps than before
i’m still humbled by my limitations
the fragility of the human condition
beats inside of me
some days I don’t feel solid enough
some days all I can do is take these harsh
colonial words
and try to make something
some days I am squashed into a wooden pew –
is this holy?
some days I feel like a stick burning
burning down to the bone
burning at the disrespect for the seasons
forest fires, floods
the darkness during day
the global warming
my belly wants to expand, to take it all in
to not think so much
it tugs at me so much
life exploding in layers, praying for a pace I can handle
love consistent and strong, lessons still learning
missed opportunities in conversation still, longing
it’s your pain that makes you beautiful
i wonder about these unrealized dreams
about the way that we tiptoe across the different levels
and what people do in their darker moments
i wonder about coping
and the particular qualities
that keep them trying
we are on fire
and yet we constantly work to stifle our own flames
what if we let ourselves expand
and redirected this water, sacred
to where it was needed.
stale
What to do with the orange
You’ve left so long on your desk
For weeks it looked so fresh
I almost wanted to take it
And peal into the juicy
Softness
I’d eat away its loneliness
If it wasn’t for propriety
Now the skin a molted brown
Hardness
Sweetness sucked out
There’s something about the neglect
That makes me want to shake things
Want to go into your office
And stroke it, poor thing
If it wasn’t for propriety
It’s not like I haven’t been leaving papers
Out to organize for months now.
Childhood never leaves, fully
I skirt the edges of the woods we played in
And wonder about your proximity.
mud
a poem from March 2014 that has resonated with me recently
At the base of the mountain is mud
thick
brown
heavy
the kind that seeps into my crevices and cracks
that builds forts under my finger nails
stamps into the soles of my feet
oozes down my neck
under my arms
across my body
far from smooth silt
this mud is sedimentary
this mud is dirty
this mud has history
Before I was always looking for water
clear
clean
pure
ethereal in quality
water that would allow me to climb
water that would absolve me
I had banished the bath
as soon as I thought I was too old
to let my brother see my naked
my mother had always liked her water warm
and so I hunted for the hottest showers
not caring
about dry skin
a frustrated father
global warming
I had always drank my tea
scalding
not willing to wait
for the water to cool down
to acknowledge
that the burned tongue
was my tongue
and that I was always falling
but this time something tells me
that I could wash with dirt
that it was not about what I washed with
but the way I washed
in slow circles, gently
up my shins, around my thighs
that I could cup my elbows
massage my shoulders
run my fingers through long, tangled hair
that I could kneel with my knees tucked under
hearting beating, breasts pressed against the earth, mother
moves inside of me
I am no longer afraid of pain
I am no longer afraid of shame
I am no longer afraid of never
reaching the top
I no longer needed to climb
the mountain
I am the mountain.
I have work to do
I have dancing to do
I have loving to do
And it does not matter whether you
will be willing to kiss the mud
on my belly.
stream
Part 1
These days the nights are long and somewhat stormy
I sleep with the window open
I acknowledge the things I’ve started that I may never finish
And fantasize about going back to sleep
I wrap myself in my loneliness
I find it comforting, almost
I’d like to learn how to ask for what I need
I know that I grasp too tightly
I know that so much lives inside that is still hiding
I want to be here for the small things
I cook the same food I always cook
And still ask people if things sound ok
And still wonder about canceling
And why people do it so often
And if I could do it more
I want to let the words flow through me
I think back to missed opportunities
And love crazy deep
I know that writing is the key
between life and life, life
I still fear inadequacy
Why am I never the right temperature?
What of all the things we prop ourselves up with?
What about when they fall through?
None of us are entirely drug free.
And I’m stunted again by a feeling of my own fragility
I don’t want to read you things I wrote long ago
I want to write breath into this moment
I want to stop taking things so seriously, so personally
I want to let myself flow with my being.
Every story, make believe or real, comes from somewhere.
Part 2
When are you coming home my dear?
I promise I will hold you and forgive
We are like twin mountains, sturdy
We can escape fear
I know that I can which means you can
I’m starting to understand things differently
Which means you will too, or already are.
Intentions do matter. And so does the desire to dance, I can do one thing at a time and I can heal. We can dance through this world together, spinning, not being afraid, I’ll catch you, and you’ll catch me, and we won’t even know that it was beautiful until much later.
salty
I can eat gentleness into oblivion and wonder at the pace of death, and the way in which our bodies, minds are littered with real, and the way in which we only have now, and we must grip it, precious.
My body wants to eat, but doesn’t know what to eat, I am left swimming through another day, thinking I know what I’m doing
I forgot to call back, forgot to do the deed that needs to be done, forgot to be the next level of good person.
I start things, and lose track
Like love poems, like healing
I wonder how not to be broken, I’m glad that you are breaking my heart, and I think that we will probably come, hunger knowing
All of us forget so much, I just seem to forget more, and less, unearthing treasures
like when I walked along the river with my family and made up stories
I was good at getting in my head, I practiced it constantly as a child, so when the time came to be present, I didn’t know how. And now I hurt, and crave salty things.