recent

there are times and

time and

times when

weeks slip by and

by and

by and

already, my word, April!

You stand stark

at the end

of the hallway

a long window behind

glows your soul

warm, lighting

up as a geyser

on the cliffside

yellow or

blue or

like nothing I have ever seen

before today my womb

hung rigid and sunk

my core to the bottom

of the river

so dark

and deep

darker

and yet

I sat, yesterday evening

breathing I looked down

as water calls water

my eyes flooded

and for the first time

I could see, hope

releasing at the window

light running round my system

toward you I leap

blood red as nothing

I have ever seen

and this morning

a silky, still bunny

that never held breath

lay on the grass

as if it were sleeping

The dog stood and

sniffed and

sniffed and

walked onward

and she was beautiful

named April

I believe what I might say, come this walk she so casually asserted, is No. I must push myself to set a boundary in a relationship I have never truly been able to. What do I want out of this? Freedom; to be hook free from the energy of her sorrow and victimhood. For so long I wanted reconciliation, redemption from the sour months of desert dry communication and to look into her eyes and have her know me. She does not know me now, though. This is no thing I want. Peace and communication, transparency, distance, this are where I suspect a healthy version of our love my lie to rest.

I do not want her friendship. This is a line I must draw. I hope for it, lust for it nearly, but in reverence to the person I am becoming, true and strong, she has no place. I will not be wiled by her to scrounge for pennies in the shadow of her manipulative gaze, like a puppy. No. I am open to opening the wounds and bearing all, I am open to healing and salvaging lives long past, I am open. What I am not: willing to compromise, willing to excuse the behavior that uprooted me, willing to bend my boundary for her peace and comfort. No. I am large, stretching myself more wise and broad every moment and I will not contain my truth to ease her woe. Unwilling to let her in, see the sincerity bleeding out my pores, and continue down the limbo line she stutters, unfazed. Her scarcity of love lingers long on, lest I not forget, not cripple.

And still, ride long the higher road that wills me to forgive and to grieve. My structure rooted, solid, vibrant and regulated within. I am there to extend myself, lead life by truth and form, there to show her how navigating responsibility looks and to set boundaries here as well. She is not dumb, though my will she play the fool, and she will here me, whether soon long on into the cycles that will always resurface the grief.

I don’t want to grieve you.

She said, and so silly now I even agreed. There is no choice about this. Grief, bitterness, resentment, relief. These sensations made to be felt, are to be moved through. The richness and the throws of life. One cannot suppress it and move onward in their journey. These do not evaporate, they do not resolve independently and with pity for the self. The only way forward is through. Taking full responsibility for ones actions and effects, one of the most potent parts of life. I tell myself this, and look to this week, our conversations, her growth and separateness apart from me. We must go through. I must hold my bounds and trust my roots, to salvation I must wade through.

With love, I move along like spring wind.

Remember

one year

long the high

roads snaking

ocean low

wicked, saltSource

and the sky

the Sky

she stretches for eternity

one year

dreaming

we held each

together

and early

sunrise after

sunrise deep

breath all

ease, I fell in love

gentle, whole

chasms glowing

as embers, amber

sunset after

sunset deeper

do we root

as I stroke

your fingers

soul sizzle

and evening of today

or tomorrow

or one year away

draws itself grey

and slowly

melting in I know

why it is

we live

My feet grow, heavy swelling

pulsing along the roots of earth

pulling down

the gauze round my limbs, round

the full of my womb

and moon long off

beckons, release! release!

gentle soul, a clear sky will follow

more blue than you believe, release!

I stand naked, start, quickly

the sun sees me

like a fresh child

//

Early still, the first baptism of the year

and death saunters round too

acknowledge her like a holy

chapped sister, I’ve no reason to fear you

Oh, icey waters how you cleanse!

Grateful now am I, after a lifetime

of seaching, to hold all the force

of rebirth, the radiance

of warming skin

in a single plunge

down creek we are swept,

churning, swelling,

release! I sense

at river mouth

I am home

//

“Rattlesnake Dunk”

long sun

i see you in all corners of the sky

reaching into my eyes,

shield me, take me

to the edge of the world, along

crest and shallow of each mountain

lining our little bowl

valley of life,

the colors move white to purple

back to white

ripening with the evening

Time to time

even now

i think of you,

not in mourning

though this morning

you’d’ve liked the sun

warming the bellies

of nighttime clouds

a bright color

not orange or pink,

now the whole day

open, clouds left

you left

and here I am

not pink or orange

I am warming

Light fills the valley like syrup, each bead of grass reaching up, basking among the swelling fields of gold. Patience, embodiment, gratitude. The freshness of the spring, all springs, are the most gentle and true gift I shall ever receive. Planet, here, I move with you into the sun.

The past I was so young and silly, dreadful to let go of my grief, to accept the simple, root blessings of the land. My, what a good few meals and aligned introspection will do to the soul. My people, I outstretch my hands toward you. Toward sky. I cannot wait to love you.

And again there is green, trees bare yellow pine needles upheaved and the birth! Long evening, the earth grows deeper each lasting second. Death, you are my wisest teacher. To the ritual of my children rising with the sun, I shall embrace you. Hear your calls and service a life that does not deny the glory of your truth. Death, thank you for opening me, allowing me. I am free and alive for you.

You, all these yous yous yous who are you?

I am you. Here, now, as the buds peer out like sour morning eyes.

I’d like to explain something:

some thing has been keeping my nights

long, heavy, restless

light in the room never changes

waking sore to the idea of a day

where no thing is some thing

I dream of,

not you

/

a prick on the tail of my neck

or the ticks I pick pick pick off

white coat of my dog

not this, couldn’t be

some thing like stored friendships

walking aisle after aisle,

are you going to ask me a question?

No? looking for something

– not of your day, why should I

care to watch the sunrise?

I’d love to

wake in the dark, again

/

some thing

like this, a becoming friend

who I know

as well as I forget about you

and think of the season

turning slowly, it hails today

but soon, when I am sure

I will drive well up the road

where it is sun quiet, alone,

and swim and sit

tidal waters, they rush down

from the mountains

like sweat, peeling off

each cell slow as dusk

until I am new,

and to act

as if you know my soul

here, this cold, fresh body

is something beyond

tomorrow or tomorrow or

again I am quiet

bug-eyed as a baby

looking for some thing

Bogging down as of late, I struggle to shake my quakes of worry. Money, mush, molding life how I’d like it to look. It trickles down our spines and into the soup below my snout, my word. I revoke this! No life of mine to pine at matters faulted, fake! in measure of the Spirit.

I detest this. It riles my insides, no measure I have been stumbling sick these past few days! I roll my arms, release. Please, I breathe, may solvents attend.

All things are fluid. qualm rolls off tongue and will evaporate, as simple as this may be true. I look to a weekend of dreams, gentle grey skies and wet, wet, wet! Spring, unfolding, I look to you. To a time when harvest of our sleeping winter’s crop. Pricking its keen head through the dirt, when my woes are of a realm I truly possess and joy finds me in all places, these be the seasons of my heart.

Be such: full, strong, capable and resilient. All these linger true and unwavering, dig here, sink your soles among the mud of the land and breathe, my dear! There is no force greater.

Today is tired, tired

slow in the sky, leaking from my bones, not quite color white but something

different pushes a cold to my back

and I hope the day passes quickly.

breath cycle back, all things will be

as they are meant to be, this body a fine and glowing example

all else, what is there? You’ve fooled yourself well

/

There is blood running to the tips of these keys

and again

again through my shoulders, up my neck and back down

thank you, don’t forget this

thank you I know you and hold you and see you,

thank you you golden

everything you are embolden to the highest mountain

do not worry you have years to see the sun

and today, slipping grey, there are still shadows

days growing longer and stronger to

a pleasant, paced, gentle life

reaps, do believe

winters spent on slope or hearth, I am longing as the days

bathed, patient, waxing, calm summer

I see you

hold you

waiting, I am whole

and all that is shall be,

patient, true

remember your dream?

wade the waters, dear

slow and it shall be

yellow sun

warm in weeks

warming cheeks

i face you

my arms covered,

quaking,

limp in the last legs

of winter

/

pearl blue sky

today

of all days

i trust you

deeply

and follow longingly

along the crests

of each mountain

and maybe

one cloud

to your whitening

edge, one edge

of your truness,

your whole

/

blazing sunset

of tonight

who i have not met

and only dream of

today

of all days

weeks cold

will settle and pass

today

i first think of you