If I picked up a cigarette today
what good would it do trying
to puff my way to tranquility

what good would it do to start crafting an image, start removing the little things
that set me apart for the rest
start hiding taking down the pictures frames which contain goofy photographs of me, real non-**** ****, that don’t turn on even a light switch
in lieu of beautifully shot photographs of
in nice lighting


What good would it do to start when I don’t want to, when I don’t feel like I need to be like them
What good would it do light one up
when I give a flying **** whether I smoke or not
when it’s just another stick and I could just as well pick up a twig and stick it in my mouth

What good would it do being someone I am not

You come like a warm breeze
on the shortest month
and if I could pick a birthday gift
it would of never amounted to anything as precious as your forgiveness
what you give could never be bought
and I am aware of that

The part of me that loves,
still loves maybe eternally
I do not argue with it

I argue with the part of me that wants to hold–the one that isn’t love
the one that perhaps wants possession, fears change, or both

I kindly tell it “ they are well taken care of, we can go live your lifetime somewhere else” but still it furrows its brow

And I understand this part of me is hurt and I look at it with eyes of love because that’s the only way it will heal
and I kiss this weepy girl :)

I love this world and
I love people
even the grumpy sour ones
I like the annoying ones too
and sit with scared ones
and laugh with the older and the younger ones
and try to just listen to the talkative ones
I know and will know what it is to be all of these
so I see them and my heart softens and I want to hug them all if only my arms where long enough

i hang in there
i choose to trust you
i choose to give this a chance
i choose to hang in there
i chose to keep finding
the renewed strength
because choosing you is worth it to me
in choosing you
i also choose me

You met a wise woman
who told you to laugh
and then you knew wisdom
she was not just smart



wisdom is the mind and the heart together at their best

A loving presence that holds everything
and has room to hold everything I feel
       I try to shift to this
slowly with practice with devotion I will get there
i am creature of habit and devotion
i will get there

You know when you know

I thought I knew

but what did I know

It does not sit right with me that any baby girl
Might inherent this world as it is
That “this” is what we choose to uphold
That “we” collectively hold each pole in place
And try to cover it with a tarp and call it a an exquisite
Manifestation of a world
That small limited obstructing vision of what we should camp through live in
It does not sit right, so reach inside of me and with my two hands
And unzip my mouth
Might who choose to present as girls in live in a better and kinder world

Your world is as wide as eternity, looping over and over again. The constellations keep birthing light, and all things are bursting, brimming: all bears life. How do you tell them this?

Sometimes I think of the weight I carry
and then I think about your weight
and I decide to stay silent and send you all the love I have quietly
without a hint
without words
without notice

I can bear the weight of my own light

in it rests my being

when I am there
there is no need to listen I move within it
and with it
and I know where I should go
when I listen to the path my life wants to take
and I honor its pull it leads me to next right place which is always now

Baby blue bird when you feel the winds has  been knocked out of you
keep on chirping
There is still a lot of life to be lived
don’t you worry
When you are ready you can give flying another shot

May I never lose my hope
even if all else crumbles
May I never forget that my joy is something I cultivate
May I understand that if I am not the caretaker of my own happiness no one in this lifetime will assume this role

My body is tired by my will it’s so strong
I plow in one direction with all my might  because i am young and I can do that
and I have enough energy
and I am dogged
headstrong
but even with that
the rest of road is not for me to sole clear
it’s in the graces of what things do align

“Find me where you know I need to be”
I trust, that when I close my eyes, turn all lights are off, and start walking inwardly I will arrive where I need to be

maybe I will have children
maybe I will get dozens of bees to keep
and maybe I will turn into a tree

at this point all is possible

May the sacred and the intimate guide me,
tilt me towards my soul and towards the great cosmos
to everything that can only be felt

I pay my dues with each poem

I made it from hot to holy
from holy to hot
from toothpicks next the counter
to a foreign metropolis
from palm oasis to squished buildings
so pressed at the sides, they can only grow upwards
I made it from feeling like fire, a woman at the top of Neguá to feeling like a fire and all of life

These are the girls that dream
one speck of dust turns into a planet
orbiting their soul

I have pushed my body passed  it’s limit
wobbled to the pavement swiftly
and appropriately landed on city concrete because by what else would I be cushioned or met by in an eastern metropolis denser than my flat, patchy L.A extending to the sea

There is a smile on
my face
I toil in small increments
towards dreams

They can all see my blind spots
and I would not hide them

everything must be looked at
and all brought to light

all old pattern examined
and what remains must be what I choose
to nourish and uphold

all parts
splinters
and gentle flowers
All in the light

no need to hide
they are all worthy of being seen

both no obstacle simple what is

When I cannot, i brim over with words like a glass of water.

I see the longing in their eyes and heaviness
and I want to tell them you have still got life to live
and the body it goes
and I do not know that plot of land you inhabit but I know life is always here
that with tenderness we can hold all our lives’ sorrows and see the gleaming bread of beauty that remains
for that which we have been
is the wool in that yarn string

I will pick up the whispers over the dry patches of land amongst the chaparral

the womxn who births over the earth in a dense city bears the name of “mother” when I call out

The long fabric roll unfolds her story and the those of the ones she calls “brother” and “nana”. Crafty hands and animal loving eyes set to see the sunrise over the North American sky reflect its light over the railroad fabric and back into my eyes

I pick up the radio waves, the ones my cousins, my friends, my sibling and my grandparents heard as they serenaded each other or played music in the living room . It was always static I could never make it out. Buzz. Buzz. Buzz

A static buzz was all I could hear for a very long time.

Then the two bars of 8 beats for salsa; the 4/4 ballads I always giggled and stumbled my way through at parties when the old folks got up to dance, and I would grab my one of my best friends and give it a go

the endless ways in which I was taught to feel the world around me, to weave myself into the music, into words, into this earth and into light begins to carry me through hard seasons,
and I understand now if life is meaningless, If I am only an irrelevant speck in this cosmic ocean the best “****  you” the ultimate undoing of this
is to live a life of meaning, and burn bright and authentically until there is nothing left and this existence is enough

(in truth it has always been enough)

I see clearly
who I am in the mirror
where I excel and what I lack
I writhed and I cried
and burned
and ran like a wolf alone in the forest
awoke next to a lake
fur still damp
but to the water I turned my gaze
and I could finally recognize who I was

humbled by the moon and its giving light
I stood there shivering and out of my mouth spilled the courage to howl

and the wind accepted my offering and carried it off

This is where I start
I see my humaneness,
my everythingness, my interbeing
and so I your blurry figure comes into focus
and you are just another human

the kind who stand in front mirrors
writhe, cry, burn,are reborn and
run like a wolf
until you howl out too
to the greater in humbleness





I am back to my being
and you can call me by my real name
the one we share

I just want to be in the vicinity of you.

Lounge like a lizard around you taking in the sun.

And then with the eyes of a red tailed hawk
I can see the  what is needed is courage
and acceptance
everything that lacks is what I do no give
and I am strong enough having crossed winter’s terrain and walked through its dark canyons that I can sit in peace
and hold all that I feel
from this view life is but a blink
and in my nature is to show up
to care in such a way
and this is not because of anyone else
it’s just the way of my nature
and I become courageous enough to accept myself and who I am

I so sweetly give into my heart and my being who see no limits
who dream dreams bigger than I could ever find tucked in the furthest closet of my being
They are guides and I follow their flashlight that flickers through the forest and the city and I meet them at night and in the morning to join hands and write

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

My heart loves a young man who dances salsa with me
he said “wow”
at the live band
I love two people at the same time
May time help me love only one

You are becoming more beautiful
not because more people like you
or because more people agree with you
You are becoming divine
because you are in the closet pulling down the cobwebs
In your home, brewing your tea to cultivate moments of attention
in your heart adoring what great effort
you body makes to keep you here
you are beautiful because you try over and over see the miraculous

How tender are they the young and the old
Am I tender, too ?

It is so hard to see what’s so close to us sometimes

When the flowers begin to sing in spring let me hear them
when the earth exhales in contentment let my feet absorb like a tree its breath
when the wind tickles my ear
let me be able to notice it
where this is beauty
help me stop and appreciate it

even if others might think me odd
to feel this existence in such a way

when there are barriers made by men, women and locked into schools of thought let me close my eyes and seek inside the truth
let my compass be strong and unwavering

genocide. on a strip. because the rest of was taken years ago-
fear & anger dominate the bombs. where is your clear mind?
people are people. violence is a crime. where is your compassion?

Still the softest part of me waits for you
its too hazy and I am too confused

The evening prepares to fully gulp
the sun, the car engines zoom contorting the sound scape and twisting gravel into their menacing rubber wheels

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

The blue sky and scent of cosmos flowers are crispy
like the brown leaves that begin inaugurating autumn

I see lines of periodic motion caved
by the birds dancing overhead

When they look at us , those birds, do they notice our lines- our traversed geography made  obvious by our commutes

Does one of them know the shape of the line your steps make ?

The wailing cries of history swoop
into the hands of today like some audacious pigeon

students hold their hands out across the nation and hold a dove

if you would hold your hands out too and still your anger, still the past and hold your hands out you too could touch a dove