Category: Gratitude

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Skin to Skin

  Hold hands with me. My feet won’t point in the direction I will them to, they’re on a loop and my mind is getting dizzy. Hold hands with me. I’ve been watching your stride. Your clean-limbed foot swing mesmerizes me. How can you keep so steady? Please hold hands with me.

Peace

  Slow down. Whoa, slow down. There is a way to do this. A way to do it all without feeling pieces of shrapnel carving cave lines into the ear bones. A way to do it all and feel electricity in the veins, singular purpose so singular, elephants in the foothills.

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Lean

  Come here, baby, show me where you like to put your head. For a few minutes, just take a deep breath. One after another we’ll find that time becomes as endless as spots on stripes with your head against mine.

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Wah-Wah Sowahwah

  The things that woman can do with a trumpet— they say teach a man to fish but I say, give a girl a trumpet! She’ll call forth the inside animal to roar against the trees and slash long marks in the careful lawn. Roar! she trumpets, go forth and roar! The open air hears you and raises, the wind will gust that roar … Read More Wah-Wah Sowahwah

Heart Clench

  Dusty was the mindset I set before me my jaw so tight my temples blossomed like children splashing in puddles, my world went westward, huddled in southernlys I thought I’d grow old like this, I thought I’d shrink so little I’d become the dust in mind — But the car door opened wide and, with a haze of warmth, you appeared; heart clench, … Read More Heart Clench

Descending

  So it is with civilized care that I kneel down to the open blank pages of a crease-lined book and cast my memories in its bronze borders. You’re my marauder, my hopeless staircase looting the use from my crouching soul and leading me to dark places too deep to stay dark.

Seaside Avenue

  Once here, I let out a long breath ; the sound thuds dully against the window pane which streams in sunlight from a morning mister. The sound from my breath outweighs the sounds of diggers and cranes from the site on the other side of Seaside Avenue.

Self Serving

  I wrote myself some love poems today, outlined in sun near the ocean’s smile. The waves beat down upon charcoal rocks and up frothed a great many minerals. I absorbed them all, flesh-first, like the fern drinks in the rain. I loved myself with pen and with sun; when thirsty, I drank; when hungry, I ate; when sleepy, I slept—and felt no reason … Read More Self Serving

Write Long

  Be patient, and write long. As long as the strokes of your eye lashes pulse the fingers to keys, then both of us remain alive. Be patient. Your dreams have no anchors; let them float light. Let the throat grow easy and jaw relax. Open and close the hinges of your mouth and feel the knobs of your shoulders merge with the elbows. … Read More Write Long

The Rock and the River

  At the top of the outcrop I sat with my knee-bones tight to my chest— the river undulated below, swirling in shades of blues and yellows refracted light on stones of marble the guttural current cut the cliff to slices–jagged & twisted and

Sourdough Soul

  Don’t ask me to do that. Don’t ask me anything, actually, I’m in deep, deep fermentation & have no flyers to hand out today.

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Creative Process

  Three cheers of a dusted dawn; electric angels sweep the streets, and light clouds skip stones against the still lavender waters of the canal. Earth sings her morning tune, low and orange against the cool palm breeze. Creation calms and tells me I must start today from the inside. No half expressions.