I tried to toil the earth

but found myself still - 

stone heavy and bare.

As the eye of the storm is surrounded by,

but not of, the whirling encompassing mass.

There was I, taken by awe.

The tree above me became part of,

surrendered to,

and danced with the maddening wind -

proving to me my inhabitants.

I am made up of too much rust 

to be so light - 

too much metal, flesh and bone.

Separated. Restricted. Reminded.

Yet, I laid still,

my mind anchored me 

to that tangled wooden bench - 

my water blood flow awakened. 

Those hysteric leaves

over my transfixed eyes

vibrated and shook - 

gospel choir singing,

electrified through the vine branches.

My soul reached

as far as its fettered feet allowed

out from my blessed corpse

toward the Taken wind.

The rough wooden plank,

keeping my spine straight.

Wind. Soul. Stone.

I found rest.

The heart breaks - 

not at the end of love but in the beginning. 

Vulnerability tears the skin.

Unspoken fears conquer - 

the chest caves in

the bone barricade collapses. 

Timid explorations of your face and lips. 

The crush I have on you -

turns into a physical act against my self preservation.

Defense mechanisms crumble

I quietly - sweetly 

fall apart in your kiss. 

I'm not hip in your ways, and I don't know the lyrics to your song. 

I can't convince you to see me.  

I ate an apple and found a butterfly in its core. 

It flew away - I tried to catch it and almost tore its wings. 

I didn't mean to hurt it. 

I don't know if I let it free or clipped its wings. 

I ask for forgiveness. 

Ask me to love you, because I already do, but I want you to let me show you. 

Drop me off at the highest peak please; I'd like to see your face with the mountain in your eyes. 

Angie

She rests 6 feet underground in an unruffled wedding dress.
First dance was held between the clouds and she was probably barefoot.
Rose gold casket lined with red roses and smudged goodbye kisses.
Her hair still soft and blonde; pretty manicured nails kept from the week before.
Pictures of prom, slumber parties and beach days.
We're all still around.
Angie knows more than we do; her face told me so.
Her insides are free - ours are not - we desperately kick and scream to feel release.
We medicate to numb and self-destruct to feel. 
The webs we weave are tangled and sticky.
I cried in frustration; the priest called it a paradox and I was relieved. 
Who are we to say what is and isn't fair? 
There's another form of death; not the kind Angie ventured into, but the living kind. 
The kind that threatens our mentality and heart.
A living death that binds us from loving freely.
Turning relationships into parasites and heavy oxygen tanks. 
A deceitful dark demise; drowning us in fears and insecurities. 
Hardening us to our brothers and sisters. 

living death

i've been thinking about dying
to myself
and how to do it


i try to die every day 
for the sake of living
but things just seem
to get in the way 

night falls and solemn drops

dark draws heavy covers

stillness vibrates

I miss you

God's Time

I am suspended in a space

thousands of miles away from anything tangible

and the longer I float

the more Time grows and evolves

and it fills the space between me and the world

and even the sockets of nothing

between my joints bones and nerves

Time holds me in this space and presses into me

and I have no choice but to succumb to its wonder

because to resist is futile

and in this temporal suspension engulfed in void crisp air

Time paralyzes me

yet takes me to new places of peace

liberation sadness heartache

stillness excitement

Trust and Surrender

in this floating suspension

I breathe in my tears and they water my heart

and a budding tree bears fruits of joy

patience humility and gratitude

in this space where down looks like up

I feel Love

The dog is chasing the cat around the couch

and there was a butterfly stuck to the carpet

but I picked it up and put it with the lavenders outside.

It's below forty degrees in here and I cant feel my feet.

enjoy

Sigur Rós - Glósóli from Sigur Rós on Vimeo.

Sigur Rós - Hoppípolla from Sigur Rós on Vimeo.

in these four walls

you gently barged in

in the morning

unannounced

and it threw me off

guard and woke me up

from a heavy slumber

you came in and

rearranged everything

the four walls look familiar

and the things in them

but it's all mixed up

and misplaced

i like what

you've done with the place

really

it's delightful

but it will just

take some getting used to

but you'd never know

I met you, fell for you, loved you, broke for you, ached for you and let you go. All in an instant - a moment you never knew about. You are completely clueless to the places I took you to, in my head, around and through my heart. Mostly in my mind - you grew so big there - and you dripped down through me, to my toes, and I walked in thought of you. Just for a moment though.

wind tangled in her hair

she smiles with her eyes and

swims along the dirt road

one of my favorites

Much Madness is the divinest Sense-

To a discerning Eye-

Much Sense-the starkest Madness-

'Tis the Majority

In this, as All, prevail-

Assent-and you are sane-

Demur-you're straightway dangerous-

And handled with a Chain-

By Emily Dickinson

Today, on my commute

I drove by horses,

cows, a llama,

a donkey,

a pony and ostriches

...

don't pinch me, I'd like to stay in this dream.

save it

how does one allow them self to be known? don't tell me you understand, because you don't. my mother is earth, and i learn from her more than any university or philosopher can ever try to teach me. i learn wisdom and womanhood from my mother. earth. she knows pain and beauty all in the same breath. she notices the little Vietnamese child goddess who, in pig-tails, says her father's prayer and sits quietly at the dinner table. she sees her, the last to leave the table, drinking the melted ice cream from the dessert cup. dear heart.

i learn earth and heart from my mother. more than man can ever hope to teach me. passion from the deepest ends of what we know to be real. passion and heart. there's no life to live if it's without passion.

I went to San Francisco 

and like so many others

seem to have left my heart there

Thank you, God, for making me a woman.

like a blind potter

i feel your grooves

i know your kind

i touch your intricacies

belly talk

Just now my dad told my sister her pregnant belly looks like the universe - freckled planets and stars.

Earlier in the night my mom sang along to Italian 70's music & told me about a story she read in the newspaper - apparently 100 mobsters got arrested in New York. A fellow mobster ratted them all out. She says the times have changed.

it's hard to hide your faults when you drink red wine in a white shirt

orange county

wants to drag me into numbness... it wants to strap a life long seat belt on me; one that is covered in dried soda. It is sticky and restraining. i will over come. i will not eat cheetos.