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communion

Hold me in your mouth.
Let me rest on your tongue
as my diverse flavors dissolve
gently over your taste buds.
Let me count the ridges
as I conform to the gentle curve
of the roof of your mouth.
Sometimes, change comes quickly
as you chew me up
or swallow me whole.
This time, let it come slowly
as the enzymes break me down.
Hold me, here, in your mouth
where the process begins -
separating the nourishment from the waste -
transforming me patiently, gently.
Hold me here.

treats

After a starless, sleepless night
the rising sun ignites -
toasting me like marshmallow
melting me like milk chocolate
onto your graham cracker body.

Oh, what a treat,
waking up with you.

on the fringes

I am a beetle, clinging
to the frayed hem of a
well-worn shirt sleeve -
made of ancient fibers
sewn together by hands long turned to dirt,
a shirt that's been worn to battles,
weddings, the births of many children
and on the deaths of many bodies,
old and young, passed down through generations -
and I know that I am one with this fabric
but I don't seem to fit between the threads.
So alone, I cling with my well-worn
beetle legs, on the fringes
of a shirt
that might just fall apart soon.

maturity

Maturity is receding waters
walking more easily
feeling more of your own weight
until
as the last drops slide down the drain
it all
suddenly

crashes

over you again.

into joy and laughter

A single thread, a column
rising strong, then breaking
into joy and laughter -
dancing like the river, the bees,
the leaves on the breeze, twirling sufis -
they rise solemn
until they, too, break
into joy and laughter.

Rise above, little darling,
until your broken joy and laughter
fills the room.
Rise, until each space you fill
can no longer contain you.
Grasp onto the beating hearts in the sky
and cry
for fictitious characters,
the people you've always known.
Reach out for every incomplete revelation
and burn
until the scent fills every nostril
and you are one with the vanishing cloud
. . .
and the ashes all fall away
into dots
that children will connect
with their favorite colored crayons
and they, too, will rise, aflame
and then break
into tears
and joy
and laughter.

no longer in love

*Note: This poem is a collaborative piece with my friend Fernando Izaguirre, whom I met at the National Undergraduate Literary Conference in Ogden, UT this past April. He is a very accomplished poet and has been published many places - keep an eye out for his work! One of my favorites of his can be found here. Thanks Fernando, I look forward to writing more together!

My love, I gave you space to breathe,
Window seats and wall-less walkways -
We built this house together,
Full of rooms with pictures of us,
Images that stagnate, forever,
Collecting the dust of our dead cells.
We crashed heads one morning -
Bickering about toothbrush ownership became
Skulls bleeding out like tissue in a carton box,
Made of synthetic fibers,
Wiping counters from end to end,
Leaving behind stained debris.
Needless to say, we are no longer in love -
A word that keeps everyone still,
Stopping the arms of clocks from swinging in the right direction.
Removing the frames from the walls,
Suddenly everything goes in reverse -
The first day I met you,
Walking down Relapse Avenue,
Giving you a smile that made you say “Hello.”
But this time I decided not to,
And there you went, my once-upon-a-time,
You go away - the images fade ever after.

leaning in to loneliness (bikram meditations)

Maybe I’ll always have this sadness.
Maybe I always have.
A heart that’s honest
never stops loving, never stops longing,
never grows out of being lonely.
I’ve always had this sadness in my hands,
a nostalgic film shrink wrapped to my skin.
Day to day I assign these feelings to passing situations,
people, circumstances that are always changing
but never changing is the feeling of weight
a heaviness in my very heart
thick air in my lungs
a parched throat and I keep drinking
the water, the bubbles, the nicotene, the THC
won’t quench it. Prayers precede more tears
and for a moment there is relief
but it’s with a solemn nod, an understanding
that there is no ongoing lightness
and the sadness taps back into my soul
with a foamy head spilling over the sides.
There’s nothing more lonely than sleeping
in a bed with a friend who won’t hold you.
And so it’s reassigned to someone, something new
whether or not the facts are true
it always brings me back to you.

so much love bound up in these cells

They say
when you hug someone
there’s an energetic residue
that remains on each body
an often involuntary exchange
of the subatomic particles and waves
that comprise us -
making me, me; and you, you.

So it seems that these boundaries are blurry
Hugging is dangerous business
Kissing still more
as saliva, hormones, even viruses get in the mix.
And of course, the ultimate act of surrender
plays out in the exchange of DNA
miraculous life creation
alchemy mixing our cells in bodily fluids and tubes
to react and reproduce
someone new.
And it all starts
with a hug
or even a handshake.
You’d better choose wisely, they say
whose hand you hold
when you say, “I do.”

There is so much love
bound up in these cells of mine -
it’s not just the rational whole
of my mind or the passionate role
of my heart or the spiritual center of my soul
that loves you, no.
Each individual cell is set spinning
vibrating, dancing to the music
the rhythm and melody
that travels unseen in the air
the hands of God that
hold it all in place and
aids in the exchange of love
each cell imprinted with this longing:
skin cells to contact your skin cells
my tongue longing to feel the contours
of the roof of my own mouth as it forms
the words I love you - my throat to sense
the melodious phonetic qualities of your name
the tiny hairs that no one but God can see
deep in the dark canals of my ears
want to wiggle with the words of your response
your irreplicable voice, those waves
at that precise frequency and shape
my retinas want to reflect your face
brain cells bursting with
all the things to do and say
each muscle preemptively tense
in the premonition of your passionate grip
limbs longing to tangle themselves in you
even the dead cells of my hair resurrect
with the longing to run through your fingers.

Won’t you come, oh won’t you come
and encompass me
and the afterglow of this fire show
will light the way for all to see
that there really is love in this world
after all.

i am a glass

I am a glass, filled.
The sugar, ice, and tea
are already inside of me.
The spoon comes in, starts to stir
these ingredients.
Condensation drops slide down my side.
Your hand holds my gently curved,
cold, hard side.
The spoon is laid on the table,
your hand still clutching,
lifting me to your lips
for a long, refreshing drink.
My side softens to your grip,
the heat of your hand,
molding, then melting like the ice,
folding, until like the sugar
I dissolve into the liquid,
the watery tea pooling
in both of your now cupped hands, pulling
with lips into your mouth
and swallowing down your hot, smooth throat.
I am a glass, consumed
by you.

memory banks of your past

I forgive you for not needing me.
I forgive myself for thinking I needed you to(o).

Roughly removed from your future
Suddenly withdrawn from your present
I'm deposited in memory banks of your past, only your past.
Hurt and disoriented - it happened so fast.
We still live in the place where we were best friends
And my footsteps echo like strangers behind me
Your ghost lingers in my shadow beside me.

Our brains inhabit separate bodies
But when our minds embraced, mine was changed.
I cannot erase the memories we made
My human nature ceaselessly craves
Continual contact, repeated exposures
to the very same images of your face
in this place we both deeply know
or undiscovered spaces we'd continue to grow...

I forgive you for not holding on
And I forgive myself for not letting go.

I'm accepting that we were never right for each other
Yet grateful for the chance to know one another
A wave and a nod when we're just passing through
The other hand holding someone else's, more true
Moving on doesn't make this less real
Just means that it's over and it's time to heal.

lovely for you

This city (a small town, really)
with the tall trees calling me
drawing me here over years, yes, years
of calling, me not knowing what
this place had in store but
you've restored me here, and
here I am while the waters are
flowing, reflections are showing me
who I am today. And I pray
Lord, let me make a difference here,
and let here make a difference on me.

Pieces that pulled me apart were
pulling me here and
pulling me near to you, I see
clearly now in this sky blue view that
you knew me, truly, all along. And my song is
Lord, let me make a difference here,
and let here make a difference on me.

The stars tell the story of my journey, and
my soul is being made whole, re-made with all
the pieces back in place in ways I forgot to fit
together in the stormy weather. I never noticed
"lonely" and "lovely" are only one letter apart.
Said I never noticed that
"lonely" and "lovely" are only one letter apart.

And my heart you've been integrating the
disintegrated fragments I feared had dissolved.
Turn my "n's" into "v's" and Lord
let me be lovely for you. You've
turned my "n's" into "v's" and
recreated me lovely for you, restored me, brand new,
free and complete. And my heart beat repeats,
Lord, let me make a difference here,
and let here make a difference on me. Said,
Lord, let me make a difference here,
and let here make a difference on me. Please,
let me make a difference here,
and make me who I'm purposed to be, I plead,
Make me who I'm purposed to be.

Sonnet for Emilia

“As Desdemona takes her final breath,
I cry out as by shock and grief I’m wracked -
I, Emilia, rage at my mistress’ death.
With fiery tongue, I scathe Othello’s act.
His weapon turns on me, in his gripped hand,
For proving that my friend was not a whore -
Now fearlessly defiant will I stand
For her pure soul, for appetites before.
Yet horror grips me when I’m made to see
That cursed handkerchief I can’t give back -
That was the role I played in Iago’s scheme.
I’ll do my damnedest to set things on track.”
Nevermore to do her husband’s bidding,
Dies at his hand, to her dear friend lies singing.

(Since this was for a creative project assignment in my Shakespeare class, I'll also include my write up, in case you're interested:) While I enjoy trying my hand at all kinds of artistic skills, I identify as a poet more than anything else. I first studied sonnets when I was in middle school, but I didn’t get so much out of them then; they seemed stuffy, rigid, obsolete. Honestly, this semester was the first time it clicked just how beautiful and powerful Shakespeare’s sonnets are. My own writing consists mostly of free verse or some kind of pattern of my own design, so I thought writing a sonnet would be a fun challenge. I chose to write a sonnet for Emilia because she is my favorite character of all of the plays we read. There are other more complex characters or funnier characters, but Emilia is the one I identify with the most due to her fierce loyalty that is sometimes compromised by her desire to please everyone. I love the parts where she stands up for women in general, and then for Desdemona in particular, but I also sympathize with her betrayal with the handkerchief. I tried to pack a lot into this one sonnet, so I hope it is successful. I wrote a first draft as it came to me one night when I was trying to sleep, but later noticed that my rhyme scheme was incorrect; it was a little tricky to fix, but I think it still works. I liked the idea of letting Emilia speak for herself, but I thought the concluding couplet would be better spoken by a different narrator, so I put the bulk of the sonnet in quotes. In a way I’m responding to Sir Thomas Wyatt the Elder’s “Whoso List To Hunt” by this reversal - in his sonnet, the quoted portion is the couplet, and the words are not even the woman/hind’s own voice. I also tried to only break the iambic pentameter when it would make sense for emphasis.

first song posts

So I am quite sure that once upon a time one could post videos to blogger... maybe I'm wrong, or maybe they've downgraded, but in any case, I finally got around to recording a couple of songs. I realized I should probably just upload the ones I already had recorded too, but I'll do that another day. Here are a couple of youtube links:

hold on to your belief

i am changing, always the same

on sleeping bags in the sand

The stars like sparks ignite our dreams
but the full moon shines on our insecurities -
we huddle around the fire to stay warm
rubbing each other's hands
the friction echoing in the canyon surrounding us.

All of the grand romantic gestures come down to this:
a rational discussion
a grown up decision
a business transaction
that, thankfully, in our place and time, is truly ours to make.
Can we take care of each other?
Do our lives line up
like the matching salt and pepper shakers
that someone will buy us
from our hypothetical registry?
Living life together is
mysterious, grand,
and yet so down to earth

like we are here
sitting cross-legged by the fire
on sleeping bags in the sand.

blood moon night

Blood moon night
Bringing in the blood-soaked holiday
Bathing in clear water
Bending knees so ears stay under
Beating heart pulse faster
Beloved, I am - touching, stroking, fingering
Between legs, breasts
Bulges, bumps, blisters
Baby, I am - reborn in the tub’s receding waters
Blood and water flow
Blessed, cursed, down here below.

mosquito song

I puncture your skin
you welcome me in
you scratch the itch of
my presence on your skin
despite the discomfort
inviting me to exchange
bodily fluids with you
my bite changing your skin’s hue
filling me with red juice
from your veins so blue
you don’t shoo me away
you bid me to stay
born in the mud
water and earth
begetting my birth
I wake with a thirst
for blood.
My probe I hide in you
my mouth inside of you
sucking your sweetness
that never runs dry.
I am so small
but you see me
on your skin
scratching the itch
of my memory within
amused and not irritated
you welcome me in
and I finally begin
to see that you love me.
Your blood cures my disease
immune to the hideous things
I harbor.
I punctured your skin
I needed to try you
to know that you truly
want me inside you.

this small sacrifice

Your domino, diving
off the bridge into
perilous, white waters,
became my lost, lonely domino's
salvation, flotation device.

This small sacrifice
and your shy smile
show me just how much
you care.

when I dive into your depths

When I dive into your depths,
exploring the wonders of your ocean floor,
I need to take care how I
resurface
so that my body doesn’t simply
implode.
Yet when I do reach that surface,
I’m still floating on your essence -
I never have to leave you behind.
Like a dolphin, I can’t remain indefinitely
underwater. But if I never dive deep,
I won’t find the sustenance that I need.
My time on the ocean floor
fuels my time on the surface
where I can breathe.

sunrise, sunset

I used to sing about sunrise
and now that sun has set -
watching it burn up the clouds
in a fiery rainbow palette
shadow branches silhouette
in its wake, an inky blue void
swallows up all light until
the darkness gives birth
to the tiny points
of countless distant suns.

Sometimes the music flows
through my veins, moving
the blood cells along their course
to bring oxygen, life itself
to my limbs, circling through
my heart, pulsing with the beat,
synchronized beat.

Whenever I witness beauty in this world,
my thoughts fly to you, holding in their beak
a seed to share with you, singing sweet notes
that help it to grow. You are infinitely interesting
to me, I sing, and I want you to know that
even if I fly away, this tree will never go.

a little girl at my mother's mirror

I am a little girl at my mother's mirror
clumsily applying the angriest shade of red lipstick
my little fingers could find.
"I look all grown up!" I proclaim,
when really, the makeup accentuates
my immaturity.You laugh brightly
as you wipe my face clean.

The plaster mask I hastily formed
to hide behind crumbles in my shaky hands.
“Look, Mommy, it’s okay - I’m still
holding it all together.” But you say,
“Baby, it’s already broken, and
holding it tightly doesn’t make it whole -
it just keeps your hands full of a mess.
If you give it to me, your hands will be free
to hold and make and do great things.
Trust me.” And I let it go.

winter

The cold rain crying on
the window shield with wipers
smells so lonely.

The inky black void above
blotting stars and obscuring moon
looks so lonely.

The frost on the ground and
the crunch under feet
sounds so lonely.

The freezing air deep in
my lungs with trembling breaths
feels so lonely.

Winter, you know how to
make a woman want to
not be alone and lonely.

your face before dawn

My dreams are innocent things –
your arm around me is all I need.
your hand in mine says everything.

Then as I wake up
the next moments shake up
the image gradually -
etch-a-sketch visions
can’t survive reality.

My dreams of late are bittersweet:
sweet that I’m with you,
bitter that they’re not true.

I’m not sure what I want now,
but this nothing’s too much.
I’m not sure what I need now,
but this whatever just sucks.

I wake up to my present reality:
empty lungs craving nicotine,
empty space lacking gravity.
I don’t miss the habit, but I miss our past.
I don’t miss the orbit, but I miss your mass.

Bread tastes the sweetest when it flakes.
The heart always soars before it breaks.
It feels good to see your face before dawn,
even though I know it’s time to move on.

pillar of fire, pillar of cloud

You are my pillar of fire
by night, keeping me warm
my guiding light.
You are my pillar of cloud
by day, giving me shade
you show me the way.
Maybe my will to follow
you is anti-feminist
or semi-idolatrous.
But how can I ignore
your light that is so humble
and yet so bright?
Your communal fire
burns for me and yearns to be
closer. Your cloud precipitates
the particles of my desires -
dew drops and sweat blend
on my skin. How can I deny
your shade that hears what I say
and shows me the way to go
together?

melt me

*Note: This is one of my very first poems. It's still one of my favorites. Since most of my love poetry is about the unrequited sort, I thought I'd post something different in honor of Valentine's Day.

When I get all frozen up and
Iced over, you take me
Out of my self-constructed freezer.
Sometimes I begin to think that the freezer
Is where I belong.
Is my life.
But you take me out,
Comfort and cradle my cold face.
                                         hands.
                                         feet.
                                         heart.
You know that being frozen can hurt.
You don't scald me right away but
Carefully,
               gently,
                           patiently
Melt me
And lay me out to dry.

permanently

Loving you
has left its mark
on me, your face
on my heart, deep.

Loving me
has left its mark
on him, my name
on his palm, permanently.

Loving you
changes me
changes you
loving me
making marks
on our identities
loving, deep
marking, permanently.

My deep, a drop
in his eternity...
individually, collectively
on his palm, permanently.

ax-wielder

I, like a vine
grew up around your
strong, tall frame
imagining myself
too fragile, too delicate
to spring up
strong and tall like
you - it's true, my
tendrils entangled you
so you hired someone
to cut me through
pruned with other
dead and dying branches
and piled yonder
to burn. But
through the flame
in spite of the pain
something new was born
ashes feeding earth
outstretched wings
carry me, freer now
than ever I was
and I have you
and your ax-wielder
to thank.

I will always remember
what I learned as I clung
to you, but now I'm soaring
the skies, searching for
another of my own kind.

a divine secret, a holy joke

God is love.
When we act in love, we are fulfilling
God’s perfect will.
Love is a personality - God’s.
Love can be happy
or it can be sad.
Love sometimes gets angry even
But love can never be bad.
God really is good, it’s true.
Good means something - true love.
Unchangeable, it holds all things together.
And when we’re walking in love,
there is no place in the universe where
we don’t belong.
And yet we don’t belong anywhere
in any confining sense because
Love is always on the move.
There is so much freedom in love
that it’s almost scary.
And everyone is invited, continually.
You just have to leave your hate outside.
It’s a divine secret, a holy joke -
everyone is invited, continually.
And this God of Love isn’t “somewhere else…”
God is closer than your breath
the Mystery that bonds the cells
the Truth behind the veil.
And this Spirit says, “You are mine,
and all I have is yours.”
It’s a divine secret, a holy joke -
I am God’s, and all God has is mine -
yours, mine, and everyone’s.
All of us are continually lost and then found.
All of us are continually dead then alive.
All of us are continually enemies then friends.
We have all been saved.
Some of us just don’t know it yet.
It’s a divine secret, a holy joke -
we are all saved. Each and every one.
And there’s so much freedom in love
that it’s almost scary.
But the reassuring fact is that
God loves us. Each and every one.
And that love never changes.
It can be happy or sad or angry or lonely
but it never ever changes.
It can be shouting or laughing or completely silent
but is never ever changes.
And the scary yet reassuring fact is that
the nearness of this Love gives
everything an eternal meaning -
the joy, the pain, even the mundane,
everything has a purpose
and there’s nowhere we can go
and nothing we can do
that will ever, ever change that love.
It’s not just a force.
It’s a personality.
And that God, the only one that’s real and good,
that God loves you.

love me fierce

Let me be enchanting. Let me be enchanted by you.
I want to be inspiring. I want to inspire you.

What does it mean to be in love, and will these feelings forever last?
No, but love is the door to a desirable eternity - future, present, past.

How can you fear something without being afraid?
You can’t admire your own shadow, nor can you live in the shade.

So love me fierce, gentleman, and never let me go.
Love me like the heart of God. Let’s challenge each other to grow.

You are

You are the light of the world.
You are the particles and waves.
You are the energy in all things.
You are two halves making a whole.
You are right and left, words and music,
now and all other times.
You are you,
and you are everything.

Where do you begin
and I end?
Do you begin where I end?
Does life begin after the end?

Or could it be? the story is true -
I've been sewn into the fabric of you,
your Spirit filling the empty spaces
between the cells making this body
and making me new. Praise be to God!
You are making me new.

cover me

Sky, cover me
as I lay beneath your greatness
as I contemplate your vastness
as I meditate on your holiness

Cover me
breeze on my skin
sun through the leaves
blue, deep, deep blue

Sky, can I dive
up, not down, into your depths
up, and away, into your blueness
up, someday, into your presence

Cover me
and hide my inadequacies
and hold me close to you
and help me breathe in and out

Sky, remind me
that you constantly are faithful
that I am never never alone
that you are always always there

Sky,
cover me.

the funeral

I remember, well,
the day it started
to die.
I cried,
but denial helped it
to survive.

Plugged as it were,
the will not ready
to pull.
I clung
as the vital signs
faded away.

Death, highly feared
yet quite unanticipated,
stung.
I died
in part, that piece
of my heart long
gone.

These words pound
the last nail in the coffin,
with finality,
reality.
Shining eyes steely-like,
no tears.

Heart, hands, eyes
no longer clinging,
I mourn
at last
and bagpipe blasts serenade
the funeral.