You took all your negative thoughts and built a box around your head. The sky only as  high as its cardboard ceiling.


It’s time you start to tear through it. There is another world with its  pull of potential
                with its immense
positive intention
                                             waiting for you

I do not know what storm you’re facing brown eyes.All I know is a portion of my best wishes and my good vibes are always sent towards your direction. However, right now I must keep my own ship afloat. I must figure out how to steer in a way that yields love and respect as I make my way across the ocean.

The jazz became part extraordinary
swinging into my ears
leveling my mood and the uneven picture frames of the past hanging within my mind needing of proper straightening of care and of being carefully hung to show my immense gratitude for what was

Poetry whirls around me
and you will blow in like a leaf
And we will twist and turn
swirl in a leafy tornado

**** playing it cool
**** stoic faces
**** stiff limbs
you and I will dance
and the music will end all of time and drown out everyone except you and I

I am want to say many to you but I keep them in the corner of some obscure cloud of internet. There are some things I do not want to burden you with.
Some ideas that come and go and some that stay.
Some of them are foul
some are them are daring
all of them are human

I type words to help understand what I am feelings. Why I love, why I hurt, why reach for mending, why I need to keep changing my understanding of life, but sometimes I circle back to the same thoughts.

Thank you for loving me even if you never kissed me
thank you for existing even if it is not here next to me
Thank you, and I wish you well
I wish you comfort and a full heart
I wish you love and I wish you great joy

You are as bright as any star and in my eyes your, you have still got so much left to give the world and I hope you never forget, even when the going gets tough

I will let this life find me
as i walk towards trees
as I linger in front of bushes and gaze
at the grazing animals that now roam the city ever ease-fully those holding the wild in their walk, in the way they tilt their heads and decide to scavenger through parks because to them it’s just another piece of land
no name attached

I will let life bring me the moon at night
        and the sun
   during the bird’s early morning call

I will let it find me            while I undress
and while I cook
while I pray
while I sing
                                             while I forgive

              –in between all the whiles–

while I cry
while I rejoice
While I fill my own cup of tea     to the brim
at the brim of life
at the loneliest
at the most fulfilled
at any age it chooses           Life will find me
as it has always done
     And I will let it in
I will open the door
holding the **** in my hands  and a smile on my face
(...this life is not lackluster that much I can perceive)
and if it comes past my doorframe and into my expansive whiles
you must indeed bet on me because I am sure I will let it in

I awoke one more day and the scent of gratitude overtook my nostrils

how the hills of thought become papers
ripped as all my ideas and limitations
tear away

I deserve the  beauty that inherently follows through on all that is living
giving it purpose
The dream of truly authentically loving everything I am
becomes tangible when I look into the mirror and I am not embarrassed or afraid of what calls to me ...I am eager to receive the abundant beauty, my rightful inherence.

Longing is the language of spirit; so I welcome longings and I inch towards them

and as this voice that guides me towards the healing becomes louder
– my being becomes clearer

Little pieces of me are crumbling,
They lump up over my spine
they materialize over my rib cage as
soft tissue balled up
and I have begun to mediate
“ it is my nature to be ill and to die”

I wait weeks, days, to know before I frighten my friends, but it’s too late for my mind it is scared–and it prepares for the possibility of death.

In my mother’s culture they embrace death. They paint their faces as calaveras and line the path with flores naranjas between what they believe links
the living to the dead

So you would think
I would be ready

                               ...
My dad is old and has seen death many times before...
This quarantine has walked him deeper into a pool of sadness; he’s been in doors for  a month , but it wasn’t until the ball over my rib began to grow that he finally submerged his head underwater.
                               ...
I mustered the courage to tell my childhood friend; it made her sad– I don’t want to be a burden

My pals speak of post quarantine fun, of trips and of gatherings. I don’t tell any of them why I have begun adding “if I have enough life”

A little piece of me, who would of thought a little piece of me could potentially **** me.

I will not tell you what to fear or believe  instead I will show you
what brilliance can stir from the wells of one being when it grazes upon spring and with a sorrowful heart decides that all starting points are good enough starts
and proceeds to slowly walk under the timeless rain nursing  in its belly the desire to not just to live life but live a life of wellness

I get to listen and be taught by living
masters in my craft
I am amongst the youngest between them
I am there to soak up it
again
I take cement to cloudy city days
and break all expectations places on me
as I create the path no one thought could be carved out


It is not my time yet it is theirs their blooming flowers mine, ours, the world’s to appreciate

but it is indeed my time to learn
to sit in a kindred embrace of the art of life
the divinity that language can point to
it is my time to stir world in my belly

Winter has become the mighty director of direction subverting routes from the longest to shortest
the least exposure is not meticulously planned just arrived at
welcomed almost without a second thought  
the hands in pockets
the way the body shivers and the way it sighs in relief to be inside
to sit on a chair and let the limbs loosen letting tension slide off

They are so precious
each and everyone of them
their eyes can be taught to be wide
their minds to dream
and their hands to create
how vast they are
and how needed in this world are they
when they smile the sun truly rises

whether you have someone or no one you must always hold your own

nothing can hand you that
no one can gift you that

Can words kiss?
How solid can they become?

Are they able to get real close and
ask to peck your right cheek
while slowly making their way to your upper lip?

Can their temperature carry over –far above the pacific ocean– to the place you're in?

I wish like all children wish (like those who with prayers on the cusp of their lips
wish profoundly and sincerely) for the burden to be lifted from those they respect
and hold dear.

I wish to carry a torch of love –even through a sunless day.
So, that if they cannot see themselves clearly reflected
because there is not enough light (to illuminate their entire mirror) then, at least I can point my little fire forward
so that they can see their next step.

This as is
is no longer my place of belonging
when people talk about it’s
absence
mine floats to the surface

I want to be light to the people I love
I want to help them to flourish
for it brings me true joy
to see others light up and blossom
I do not care if we get different things, blessed be the other person even if I sit here with empty hands
I know how to see through illusion
your joy is my own
and it also a gift to the world
kindness inspires more kindness and deep love inspires more love to seed and flourish in the world

I just want to be in the vicinity of you.

Lounge like a lizard around you taking in the sun.

They did not teach her her tongue
she was tongueless
mute to her past
she was taught the language of those who came and settled upon the land
seeking to own the living
breathing
slow moving earth

her half moon earrings were just hand me downs from her family
the art of her people
their prestige as artisans a quiet story tucked within the hands who made them are speechless to her now
...
Two crescent moons stacked smiling upwards–
I look for these earrings often but I cannot find them Or the fishes...or the face of her mother or the scent of Janitzio
some days I feel like that very    
                          
                          isl­and

disconnected from everything and surrounded by water
And I feel like fire burning at foot of a lake
and I want to push back the night but then all of a sudden
there are humming birds who hover over me (a shift of existence) as I become the wind under their wings
and I take after their countless legends of mermaids
Eréndira’s tears lay salty on my tongue   
and I will myself through the fright and the this plague –that bore semblance to the time her people died and dropped like flies
from small pox their bodies surrendering to disease–
to dive into this water and swim
through the vast expanse of hurt
I swim through these fictitious tales of separation
of the illusion of the “other”
of the resistance to understand and mesh cultures 
I swim past these notions of perpetuating intolerance ...
past the use of  “other”
Until I reach my own shore
my own place of being
And there I release and heal all misery
and cleanse my heart and soul

there I sink my teeth deep into this bread of words
“I will not perpetuate more sorrow in my life”

everything that is a chain
I free myself from
everything that does not love has love destined for something else
but this small beating mass in my chest
is mine to nourish and to love

I  surpasses the violence of the collision of words and I bear fruit

How do we start from here
from this new expansion
from the rawness
from this cleansing
that rubbed too hard it left red marks over my skin
so deep in my being I will never forget
How do I lean into love more and stop turning towards sorrow
how to accept the warmth and let it cover me once more
for I deserve once more, twice more, and an infinity of more

Under the layer of confusion
is the softness that seems to yield to you
and there you are
amongst all  
shinning never faintly
always brightly

allow the freshness of the cold air
to let you cry of sadness or of joy
let it purge whatever sits in your chest
so that you can feel so that you can dream,
because you ought to believe in the kinder things
and reach for them with might and tenderness
hold your arms out towards the most beautiful of visions
of what your life can be

Awareness’s long encompassing skirt fits well and I twirl and run with it. spring  is here and my heart rejoices and I want to close my eyes and soak up the sun
how wonderful it is
how we all rise and regardless of yesterday and can pick the street we turn on
there is no road where life has not been
I hold the evidence in a book and I hear it through the music of others and I am calm and I am happy to be a human being even if its not eternally

its in the practice of little devotions
that everything we dig up
can be turned into treasure
or at least a map of where to
or where to not find it

... I try

when clarity comes
It seems to do away with my best logic
I always thought clarity would reinforce practicality
But it doesn't
Clarity speaks truth to you whether you like it or not
It says to me “you are linked"
And I think of the great expanse between you and I
Between this earth and these stars
and I am humbled but saddened that you are not here

She has escaped us
reached past the bend and cracking of her own bones and left us
stretched out her hands past the copper plumbing of her mind
and made a hug glorious because it came from her
ever present her warmth rings
over this bell of a body that feels
every vibration even in death she rings through me
as does the eyes of her mother
and her mother’s mother
–their eyes have not escaped me
(they ring from the tower that I circle)

I wax like the moon
the water in my body
feels like an uprooted planetary mass
subject to rotation and cycles
bathed in an ocean of time

I trust that clarity
clears
that the spark  
of hope cannot be trampled
I give all trust to you

How should I have felt
How should I have acted
I moved across the world
left everyone I loved


How should I have handled it
when I left the second closet empty
and the half of the bathroom cabinet
half the living room empty

how should I have felt ?

should I have felt okay


how should I have felt ?
Do you know ?
Can you tell me ?

If I desire to cry I sit there and cry
if the feeling of inadequacy falls over me I take it into my hands and embrace it fully. I feel the not so pleasant, so that I feel the marvelously pleasant things that living has to offer.

Al poner el oído al viento
puedo escuchar su ritmo
descalza sobre el asfalto
sonreío
porque no necesitó ojos
para bailar en sincronía a todo

There is no rush to hold another hand
or to come home to anyone
there is no ticking clock
there is no date another to get over another
there is only the early morning tea, the sunlight from the window and the opportunity to frame today as a “day of gratitude” and so you see there is only this zest of wanting to live and to heal

my sister she carried the light into my hands
with each of her strong unmovable
words

Gratitude emerge soft
and profoundly onto my palms

You were right about my many educations. Each language, with its treasure and its blindspots, has left me needing more opening
more traveling and more meetings with new people; nothing is static-

For all my lives lived and lost
I cry for none of them

for now in understand
What a gift this mystery is

for all my lives lived
I am thankful for each of them

You feel genuine to me
natural
a breeze with the right temperature
a soulful hand with profound brown eyes that sail like ships through this life’s ocean
your mainsail and jib that have weathered storms give me the courage to steer

Someone is ringing the bell; I no longer know who they are but I feel the clapper’s reverberation.

Your sentiments are as sweet as confections
that I lick my fingers just to make sure not a single crumb of it
goes unattended by these languid taste buds
which my mouth has engendered to be critics of flavor.
Each word proves sugary
and each phrase seems to be dripped in agave syrup
making you a confectionist by heart.

When I look at you, the world shifts into gear and my life begins to roll
the prospect of winter does not seem cold
and the primroses in my coastal begin to seed

When I look at him, all oceans part with a gentle willingness to love despite separation

When I look at you, I put my plans together and pray a thank you to life

When I think of him, A grateful smile
comes over my face and I understand some sacrifices are stacked like plates

When I look at you, I want to love you as much as I loved him
as deeply
as tender
as nourishing
and we are on our way

When I look at you, I know life goes on across the bend, around the corner,passed a true love and arriving at my door while in recovery

I come this way(for you)
come your way
steered for no other reason here
than to meet you
on this stream

if you do not see with eyes of love
i will understand and will respect that
if you frown I will take it or smile

I steered this way to see you
so I whatever fate awaits
it is in the making
in your hands
and in the trembling of mine

I can’t think about love without cleaning my small home

It’s the way I show myself care
it not that I look at a sponge with dewy eyes

It is just that I find that keeping my mind, body, spirit & soul
and the place around it at peace is a great expression of harmony and self appreciation

The kettle steaming cries just before you can pour a cup of tea/the dark hues on a wall must be painted twice if you want to replace them with something even a tad  bit lighter/a rocket must go 11 kilometers a second to then escape the pull of gravity/

May the steady rain trickle it’s song  over your umbrella and accompany you
sweetly while it pours over the streets you know.

Today, I want nothing, and so I have everything I need.

I am ready to run with the wolves
I am not undecided
I am absolute and solid in the steps I take
I came with others into this world
who too
  cannot understand why is it a man is   unequal
  why gender constructs
and why we treat earth like a *******
why we accept what we could change

Timber wolves howling

in the winter of our era we breed, breed new life

We are recovering
I am growing wiser
We are becoming kinder
I am every other human being
We are finally breaking the divide
You can be honest with me
We are not scared to be seen for who we are
You can make mistakes
We are falling deeper into life
and into our beating hearts

My little home with its little desk
juxtaposed with my big desire to live deeply in my skin
and just cherish this
this
these tiny hands
this, this real and very precious life
this that is me
is cherished
I start with this
this me
this growing, stumbling
precious being
this me
that extends to this precious cherished you