Heave away laddies
sail away you ladies
let us lift our glasses
to that one-eyed spy
aloft in the dark nest
looking down to what
we have spelt out in
the fires of driftwood
drinking to the light
filling the silent sea
wooing its bed right
below my window,
and to the memory
of the rusty revolver
held tight in my right
hand I keep beneath
my hard, cold pillow
O, night, you old sailor
your victory, I salute.

I have had dreams for 3 nights in a row where I am strong like ocean currents, I am amber rose sunsets, I am graceful, I am outspoken drunk girl in bar but I have not had a drink; I have swallowed everything else until now, in these dreams where I am strong. In these dreams that I have had for 3 nights in a row, you are wrong and Justice is my sneaker on your throat, it is your apology dripping venom off your tongue, it is you asking for my mercy instead of me asking you to stop over and over. In these dreams, I am telling you what you did to me in front of a  room of people that you love, instead of a room full of people that I love asking me how I even got into this situation. In these dreams, I am crushing your words in my hand and planting flowers with the dirt and dust I took out of my throat. I give them as an apology to my partner for the year we spent trying to put me back together and it only kind of working.  In these dreams I am already healed, as a past participle and as a present state, I am not fearful that I will not ever change the way I walk in the street, I can go on my old campus without forgetting how to breathe, I can do anything, really. In these dreams, for 3 nights I have been the kind of strong that other women who have had this happen to them look to for strength, I have rooted my forgiveness deep in my chest where resentment used to lay. In these dreams I am a woman I love who does not blame herself. In these dreams I am hurting you and you cannot speak. I swallow the irony. I am outspoken and loudly tell the world our story- and every time you beg or plead or say “no” I tell it again so they can hear me. In my dreams people finally hear me. I have been sleeping in.

Bad times made me forget how to
                      Smile
But his Smile made me forget my
                       Bad times.

Teary eyes, heavy chest.

Burning anxiety, trouble breathing.

Hours feel like days, days feel like years.

He's close, yet so far..

His eyes, so hard to ignore.

My cries to be understood, failing.

Am I asking too much?

A moment alone, and I wonder..

Summer's on it's end, are we too?

the count starts now (tired of tired)


I read your outcry at 3:00am
posted on Facebook

you are
tired of tired
sick of sick
the only question, will it ever end...

rise this day,  start another way...

count your blessing
count against all odds
for there are more than merely one

use both hands
both hands chested to feel the heart thrusting,
for living is a wondrous blessing unique
an unbelievable to believe than so many beats,
born and borne,
by you, a strength unequaled,
you a richness possessed

count that one first.
count my hands holding your shoulders.
count that as two, one for me, one for you.

more? more.  

mirror.  find the tiny light in each eye against a yellow backdrop.

add two more. for they are a sparking confidence of confirming.

you felt the heart thrumming
go back, feel the breathing warmth breaching forth.
add another. for now known you can never ever be cold.

wash the face, wash away the caution that sleep leaves,
the coverlet of fear that fears you not to dare,
amazing that tap water plain is sacred when it
miracle breaks you out and anoints thy forehead with pure oil like the kings of yore, be a kingly human being.

go out. do not return
until one act of kind is performed and
count that as a thousand blessed, a sum recurring recounted

walk humble and the path will always appear.
walk contented for you can be both king and servant,
there is no difference - you must be both to be the other
one.

and if you still cannot raise the head,
call me.
that would be a blessing for me
and I will hear your blessings sounds mine merge,
dear friend and no more stranger,
that is the simplest definition of our learning to count to
infinity