Time, Reflected

The feelings I write,

the feelings I give

today I ponder time

and a clock strung with string

and the powerful men

of tomorrow

when I take a stake

in my own power,

honey,

when I sip tea and drink juice

(smoothies, preferably)

I feel mad at times,

and worried at times

past and future “tick” by

but present

molds,

holds,

unfolds

in the up-down motion of an eyelid,

the snowflake melting on your palm,

the silence when dad shows up

but not mom.

It is in these spaces that time was invented,

and dreams were had

where forgiveness was a portal

within a portal

and sand did not make the hour glass –

it was the ocean that made the glass,

the sea whispering home

as I recount

powerful men,

and the flipping of coins,

and the thrill of a poem

well ended.

 

inspired by the work I saw at chanorth art residency: https://www.instagram.com/chanorthartresidency/

cover art: https://www.instagram.com/dannibellandostudio/

 

July 29, 2019

White Houses

When someone lives

both near

and far

from your heart—

where do you go,

where do you start

to make sense

of that sense of loss,

that sense of time

passing like a train

past white houses

they have sat

and waited,

sat and, sat…

I see Paul in a fresh tuxedo and his bride in a gown

and I laugh:

how could this idiot get to be this “happy” before me?

Bullshit.

How’d this boy once a man cut me out of his social fabric

and still get the chance to be walked down the aisle?

Shit…

men are socialized that way:

the give and take, the call and response.

Somewhere in my heart, I missed you, Paul.

I missed all of you.

But finally, I am waving goodbye…

 

A throw back in many ways. Thank you, Vanessa Carlton: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SM3fEJyPrrg

 

February 28, 2019

Three Parts

I.

Our hearts wide open

on the sofa, in the den,

we glide

past memories and landscapes

of lost wishes and dreams untouched–

but oh, my dear, did you touch them!

How far you ran!

How far we traveled

when home was right next door?

I can only tell you so many times

how much I love you,

mom and dad,

how much I owe to you,

my gods on Earth, my saviors

of moon and light —

of all the in-betweens and all-togethers.

Success? Winning? Acting out?

Do you remember me,

do you know me better than I do?

I am your baby bird…

and I am here, beautiful, flying…

you make money not to chase

your own dreams, but for us…

talk about pressure!

But I suppose each generation

has its shortcomings of identity

and mind that the world threw at them,

so you throw it back up,

say I’m better than you.

 

You made me.

Without your light,

I cannot shine.

 

II.

And you tell me: “What doesn’t kill you

makes you stronger.”

What if I fear I have lost part of me?

But dear…look around,

you are here,

and this is now,

and now is the Earth and time kissing

on two planes, four dimensions

that we know of, hurtling off in space

and yet perfectly safe.

This world may think its won–

they may have knocked me down–

but maybe that was not me to begin with.

You ask why I’m so quiet?

Because I’m readying up to get mad

and spread some joy around to make it better.

You told me you have some secret cure?

Cure for what? A story unfolded?

Afraid of one’s own shadow?

Or the light bouncing off your face?

Is that how trauma works?

Healing is all Earth is,

is all that’s in your blood, your muscles

and tendons and heartbeats and breaths.

I am here to guide you,

parents, elders, child.

You may see me as Father Time,

but I’ve been your mother, all along…

riding sunbeams, glorifying everything

and nothing. I am Earth.

 

III.

It’s cold in my childhood, only-home

for-a-while bedroom

and I wonder what life “should” have been…

Life sees no life without death.

I was there. I played. I fell. I rose.

I survived, god damn it.

My body and mind are still god damn

here, my spirit unbroken.

 

Sleeping, eating, breathing…honey,

you are an animal as we all are.

There are moments you must do nothing

but rest, let the Earth care for you.

You cannot take over for her.

We all know what it’s like to interrupt

the most powerful women in our lives.

This is the mother of all mothers,

life giving grace from the God

that is a woman, that is everyone in between.

You have a scary fucking story in your head,

taking over God’s role?

Hell no!

I have my dad’s wings

and my mom’s heart,

so I can keep gliding,

gliding…

 

January 4, 2019

Hello

my darling,

sleeping in this bed,

waiting until

there’s only now

and no tomorrow;

each cell

a masterpiece

of sound and I

celebrate

the beauty

that has come

into my life.

 

Slowly, sun lifts

from eyebrow

to eyebrow,

yawns across the sky

and grants us a grin–

now tell me again

of this thing called love?

I hear you

in the night,

just as gentle

and unafraid

as you are

in the morning–

sun shining,

blades of grass

shooting upwards,

following my mind’s eye

as I send

a word of thanks

to whatever god

there is for sending

you to me.

 

How many steps

were taken,

books read,

conversations had

until you reached

my lips?

How many times

did we scream,

“When?”

before I could

tell you,

“Now”?

 

It is always now.

 

It is always now

that I will love

your midnight kisses,

blush as you name

your reasons

for loving me;

now is the time

I love you

and the tongue

you use to speak,

words of rise

and triumph

and resistance

and awe.

 

Now is a time

for no time,

for no thing,

except our cells

lighting up,

greeting each other,

saying,

“Hello, again…”

 

March 8, 2018

 

11:11

At 11:11

I will make a wish

that one day

my 11:11 wish won’t have to count,

won’t be some far off, preposterous thing,

that being a person,

first and foremost,

is about existing on Earth

and not in someone else’s wallet.

 

At 11:11,

I will make a wish

that all of my future wishes

come true.

Birthday cakes, eyelashes,

four leaf clovers–

send them all my way

and soon veganism will be widespread,

time machines will be real

and life will come with an automatic “pause” button.

 

I don’t want to leave

this time, this place

just yet.

 

The dollars we learned

to put above ourselves

back in 2017, 1999, 1776– they are far away.

 

Nothing to despair over.

 

It’s just 11:11:

four parallel lines

chasing after each other,

and never meeting.

 

August 27, 2017

Life

I don’t care

what you believe in,

as long as you admit

that there is something first and foremost,

yesterday, today, and tomorrow

beyond life and death

undeniable,

beyond your front door, your morning coffee, your Instagram feed

 

Life

is the spirit between your collar bones,

beneath  your chest,

the heartbeat Earth lent you

asking only two things in return:

don’t forget

where you came from;

don’t forget

to give back.

 

March 26, 2017