Got My Hooks In Your Past With Your Teeth In My Now

my pull
with your tug
makes our push
into more
than this crinkled heart
thought likely.

i’ve got my hooks
in your past
with your teeth
in my now
i take samples
from your then
and make projections
on tomorrow.

I recoil and summate
giving a push
until it pulls
then you tug
and I’m back
to the heat
it all started in
like oil
acquainting itself
with a hot pan
I melt and simmer
with nothing but now
right back into your blue.

sick of caring
about the fossils
their significance weighs in;
I dream
I fear
and I hold firm
but it’s your love that I want
and the language that it lends
not my doubts cast by thoughts
dividing my now
with your then
hiding you in the shadows
of what I know I know
what I’ve felt from the moment
you leaned in close –
I just want you, infinite
unending, no past
just here, our now
all you.

The Year Has Come

a swirl and a tuck
i’m still out in exile
and have decided to linger
summon and move with the forces
that this in between brings.

the year has come
winter came yesterday to prove it
and i know it hasn’t been rushed
it was a long visit all that time
snowy nights with me and the old speakers
playing all the favs in a stranger’s kitchen.

and now, well
i uncurl and extend
with my heart as a tide pool
feelings loll,
like a perfect microcosm of the sea
a continuation from every point
beginning and ending
over and over and never before.

This is Where the Gift Begins

particles of everything
make up the whole
and i know that nothing or nobody
is ever a simple plan
or anything less than a biological movement
trying its best for balance.

maybe i had become a shell
inside of a shell
with half-feelings retracted from myself
without knowing
because it came in small particles
with density so huge
the imbalance knew it needed to diffuse
do something to rattle the scales.

I’m not very happy about it
but if i did it, i did it
with something strong enough
inside of me to bring me out of myself
to risk, to hurt
and give myself veritably nothing in return,
aside from the experience
which folded in on itself anyway.

I keep being told
that this is where the gift begins
because now all the details and bits
of truths or perceptions or illusions
are so scattered and dispersed,
that all i can do is use the intuition
i should’ve been listening to all the while.

What It Feels Like When I

i can be taken
by a stretching yellow meadow
a flickering shadow
a moon deep in the sky
over a farmer’s field
a fiddle and lap steel guitar
muggy nights
a flock of birds moving in unison
alongside a dirt road
as i fly by in my parent’s car
windows open,
thinking and feeling
heart exploding
into millions of little pieces.

Isn’t Sad

not quite up and at ’em
but feeling pretty alright
considering the night sweats,
warp speed emotions,
and all those moments i somehow missed.

i see the spiral in the pattern
and it leads to a center
soft and intricate
like an etching of a nest,
ready and pursuitful
but without the hatching eggs.

and that isn’t sad,
it’s actually very pretty.


magnolia blossom pink
with indigo spring dusk
i roll inward
and feel perched
on the edge of my world
a tiny platform made of stone
with twinkle lights,
and a fountain
of a peeing cat.

A Spring Paragraph

when you go so far inside of yourself, that all you can hear and feel is the sound of your own voice – you know you’ve entered into a place that will change you forever. from here, all you can feel is a basic tick-tock of what you are and what you need. and as soon as you allow that tick-tock to be a guiding pulse, everything else starts to fall into place. when you reach to yourself for an answer, you give it to yourself. and when you reach to another to feel something real, it is given to you. and then, with each choice and with each chance, you can open up to what else is possible – how can i be better? how can i be more of myself? you are with yourself, finally. and because you are finally yours, it is with the greatest desire that you wish to give love and happiness to others.

Like Salivation

ok yes, so maybe
i am restless
and maybe i am a little
taken away by beautiful things
like a song or a sentence,
or a mouth saying words,
which gut me
in a particular fashion.

and then i’ll follow it,
like a drive
that works like salivation
a craving
winding up
and then letting loose and spinning.

it’ll drown my heart,
but i’ll keep it up
until the wave breaks
onto my morning shore
with early light
another layer growing
like skin over a cut,
waiting to heal.