sometimes I long to know the meaning of life
to know if I must choose my meaning or if it's inevitability will somehow manifest in meaningful ways
sometimes I wonder if God is part artist and part practical accountant
frustrated and creative and stifled by I don't know what
or content to crunch the digits and let the sequence unfold to a beautiful resolution

generally the church tells us our maturity can only be developed in community
but Jesus always retreated to be alone, to talk to God, to talk to himself
what does it tell us, that he died for his creation out of some kind of unconditional love
but that he also needed to connect to his higher power to make that sacrifice
that while asking for the prayers of his friends, he wanted to be alone with the part of himself that knew the plan
I wonder if my spiritual self knows the plan that my body does not want to follow out

and that while he already knew the plan he would ask himself to not have to do it
for there to be any other way without suffering
isn't that what we all ask God
if there's a better way, one without having to suffer and self-sacrifice
and even God had to lead by example, by sacrificing a part of himself to be mortal

it feels like a horcrux perhaps, having a child
a part of you that you cut out of yourself and that exists vulnerable to external forces
a part you can be separated from by governments and space and death and miscommunication
like separating our spirit from our flesh

I long to create and yet cannot be satisfied
I suppose that's why to love our creations we must learn to love ourselves
even if our artwork doesn't look like we want it to
even if it kills and lies and steals and is corrupted by some flaw
if it can choose not to love us

it's all too complex to lay out like a map
why create beings to love you and share in your life
why have disciples when you are three in one

to understand why we sleep
if it is an illustration of some kind of awakening
to prepare us to wake after death which is so similar

I can't describe how meaty and empty it is when someone is no longer home
when they've moved away
and their body is solid and cold and yet still looks a lot like them

I don't believe the point is to proselytize
As in go about trying to change everyone to believe the exact same thing
I think Cubism is helpful as ugly and distorted as it appears
That it carries some truth that we all have validity in our different experiences
In the different ways we've colored our memories with feelings and interpretations
I wouldn't want to steal that from anyone
Or try to invalidate it

I don't think any of us have the truth except perhaps someone who is everywhere and everywhen
and maybe like the elephant or unitarianists it will all come into picture

"each must be fully convinced in their own mind"

in that way, perhaps my meaning both matters and is overruled by some larger meaning
perhaps it is a colorful piece of glass in a larger mosaic
perhaps our broken experiences will be made better than before

I never thought of myself as much of an optimist
I've actually been told I'm quite dark

but I suppose I do have faith
faith that there is an artist who will call things into account
that we won't be abandoned half baked
that those who seek will be rewarded

we endure in these infinities stretched microscopic
where time and memory wander off topic
until even our stories done slipped into stardust
and blow away in foreign winds

trying to sail to a home that may no longer exist
the pulse of a heart in the curve of your wrist
but the only green thing I see is a sea filled with salt
they deny you your pain and say its your fault

when there’s a set back I step back and see past myself
standing on grand canyons only to think its a shelf
have you health and peace or a will to live?
I am only free when I fight and forgive.

spores! spores!
fluttering demon spawn everywhere!
fluffy white bleached miniscule chimney sweep umbrellas
cascading down like so many newly born spiders
on their silky web shoots
coming over the hill and roof to attack
traversing miles to my nose
which weeps
in sneezes so magnificent
they'd frighten off an elephant

I tell you, for every reproductive winged plant seedling I will counter with fifteen crumpled white tissues

evil evil pollen, the curse, the allergy, which trapped me in the castle in my youth, on many a lovely spring day

on this slide of a petri dish
sits a speck containing the DNA
for the birth of the cosmos

it drops predetermined as as fall leaves fall
egg cracks
yolk spills out
gooey, opaque                 suspended around a glowing yellow SUN,
                                                                                 a billion suns,
                                            a disk of ever-flattening, expanding life

It stretches. It yawns.
It cries for its mother.

---------------------------------------------------------
Out of it teems throngs of the tiniest colonies
whose kingdoms rise, rage, and fall

the sun burns out.
It takes an infinite eon for the dying stars to reach us and then what?

Planets freeze over, gravitational collapse ensues
we are suctioned silently into a black vacuum

All that's left, the smallest seed buried in a dark grave
waiting to bloom.

Death to Life.
A Resurrection.

On a snow blown day
In the month of December
We gather 'round fires
And watch every ember
Listen, my child
To the old, true tale
Of how we have help
Whenever we fail

"Shepherds were watching
Their flocks by night
Wisemen did follow
A star so bright
A mother and her baby snug up so tight"
Foiled the greed of the world
With that one spark of light

08/12/2010 and earlier

wafting cherry blossom-flakes
              snowing into downy clouds
                    alight upon dark skeleton bones
                                       no longer bare

                                              as falling puffs of winter feathers
                                                        ­           gather gently how I wish
                                                             I knew to construct a home
                                                        so sound

         as that little architect
                     who tests each twig upon
                                                     the ground

This body
That you see
Is not me

It is merely the veil
Which I put on in the morning

Look into my eyes.
Do you see
My soul?

silhouettes running down brick walls like

flashfloods clinging to ***** mascara
where starstruck children run in mud
call me the eve of original sin
for the things I have seen and the places I've been

for ridges of ink etched in landscapes of skin
for heartbeats in hoodies saying lest we forget

in the valley of the shadow of death
they rest with hands crossed over their chests

it doesn't make much sense to say she has the heart of a ******
because I feel like every ****** has a different kind of heart

"and those who don't have a heart generally die"

thanks for that, william

Did not God want to be cherished
to cultivate and co-create
but instead we consume
like beautiful glowing fire
and maybe the ashes will make something
but dust to dust we are

maybe to burn is to live
like stars can fuel planets
is it distant passion or suffering
at least brief life flickers warm

time alone seems so expansive and cold
and eternity, as a dark vacuum that no fire can touch
is it better to suffer and live
or do you envy the crushing quiet of nonexistence

a speck of dust on a clover can't see where it's blowing
but somehow red light tells us that distance is growing

if human is dust
are we not a literal residue of some combustion
were then the Universe and God having tea together and laughing about us
And when people talk about them fighting
Are the two mistaken for each other?

The cheery, bronze bell heralds our coming--
A stout, brown man, a happy Buddha wearing my father’s vest
And his diminutive daughter, a caramel girl with inquisitive eyes
Marveling over the lush painted settings
The tapestries of women with slanted eyes,
Sitting precariously on rocks, surrounded by wild ocean-foam
Mermaid mistresses I imagine
With long golden nails,
A holy temple atop each brow, an adorning crown

Past the multicolored, patterned elephants
And silk orchid flowers,
Gliding across dark, cherry-chocolate wood
Lacquered, glossy as her watching eyes
As if all were coated with amber honey-sap

They take their thrones.

The windows are draped in lace and purple
The color of monarchs, even the plump, crystal glasses
Shine pale maroon, like African violets, in their elegance
And a Bengal Sugar Sweet Tiger, swims in each cup
Dusky orange, as a faded sunset
Belly up he is curled, exposing white soft cream…

And florescent rice crackers
Lie popped in a porcelain dish
Stiff and bright,
Like skeleton jellyfish, frozen
In mid-propelled undulation,
About to escape
Before they are dipped and broken
In sticky pepper, gold-gilded sauce

Rich curries; satay, with alien names
Are laid before them, feast upon feast
Savory meats and vegetables soaked in vinegars;
A parade of colors and textures and tastes
Every plate garnished, an artwork…

And while she surveys this domain,
In all its tiny grandeur, a feeling of
Dignity creeps down her shoulder, straightens her spine
To think that part of her is from such a kingdom
Though she might never see it
To still feel like royalty,
The Queen of Siam.

forgive me if I lost track of you
sometimes you're not sure if a sock goes in the pair
so you let it go where it pleases
and then this happens
and you never really know

I don't ever want to be like you
talk like you
walk like you
pop that glue
ya numb to the pain
you cause with your dollars
the hollars of people wronged
throng 'round your house
in their dreams
they mean to take back their wages
pages of their people's history
stolen by man in a monkey suit

phrasesfaceplantmufflyduffledinafluffypillow
you hear so obviously
what I utter in mutters under my breath is a bridge
shaded from view where the hobo's live
when they don't want to be bothered

I pilgramaged to the top of a mountain
to loose my whispers in the wind lost forever
bleached, torn and fraying bits of a flag that lost the war
But you picked them up like so many scraps of paper
fluttered and jumbled to reconstruct and decipher,
I MEANT TO THROW THEM AWAY
but all you notice are
keys to my safebox, in the garbage can
making a jingle jangle ruckus in their silence

Though I must have laryngitis still your receptors
never picked up the signal so clearly as when
I venture to get away, erase what I wrote in white noise dust
as if I had shouted my carefully guarded secrets
from rooftops

Sometimes I fathom you can even hear my thoughts

There is beauty in brevity,
Fascination in the flawed.
In between the passage lines,
The answers may be broad.

Time may wink with sleight of hand
Parting, sifting, streams of sand,
And leave us not a grain to cleave
But to the wind and vanity

The Preacher looks out past the sea
Into placid mystery
And knows not the depths of emptiness
that caress the soul with gentleness

Yet steps out in the vast, clear space
Arms outstreached in lost embrace
To sink into the glassy pool;
Walk the floor of siren's song

And be they both lost together
in melodious cacophony
the cavernous, echoing chimes
of overlapping waves.

9/14/12

We first met at the fair...

Our eyes locked, we were the perfect pair
Ariel, the mumbling movement of your lips
Drew me, gently, to your side.

My adoration I could not hide,
You made my heart do flips.

Until that sad, sad-sorry day
On the water's edge you lay,
So peaceful, and so frail-

I picked up all the shattered glass
Who knew our story would so soon pass?
A tragic end, to our sweet tale

Watching you float away with the tide,
My beautiful goldfish, had sadly died

They say there's so many fish in the sea
But you're the only one for me


October 5, 2012 with Sarah, Gabbi, Madeline in Introduction to Literary Analysis

☆。★。☆。★
。☆ 。☆。☆
★。＼｜／。★
Steal away my oxygen
Can't breathe when I'm next to you
Let me envelope you like a note,
Gravitate closer, be your atmosphere
Pull me around you like a warm jacket
Button me in
To keep out the cold
Of the night
Look at the
Constellations
Aren’t they so bright?

But, you know what I think?
The most beautiful skies
Are inside of your eyes

Stop, don’t blink
Let me sink a little deeper
I don’t need a telescope to see
That supernova
Expanding infinitely

Like a ripple that a pebble makes
The clicking shutter
That takes all of me in
Houston, we have a problem
I can’t escape this black hole
It’s pulling me in

I’ll reach out into that darkness
Brave all of your ice and coldness
For that little cosmos with veins of gold;
Shades of blue,
Green and brown,
So simple,
Nonjudgmental as a penny
That’s been left out in the rain
Many times before

Once more
I’ve caught your glancing flit
Asteroids approaching
I take a direct hit
Falling endlessly, consumed
Among the billions of stars in your eyes

Like Major Tom, I would accept that fate,
To float in limbo
Lost in that space
Out of sight

If worm holes existed
I’d sink through all that
Depth,
Come through the other side

And find that alternate universe--
The dimension where you would have me.
There is no corner of space to call home without you

Three.
Two.
One.

Lift-off.
★。／｜＼。★
。☆。 。☆。
☆。 ★。 ☆.

Feels like a chorus song how surrendered you render my worries
Ebbs away words once written in sand we band and
Adulthood turns less intimidating
Restless I wish to find you near or hear your voice but
Lacking your presence find peace in prayer, asking 'Is God fair?'
Endlessly encouraging me not to despair I'm aware that
Solitude is not quite alone, without being shown if I can trust in the
Spirit which sees more clearly than eyes who is here

I love, therefore whom shall I fear?

Asleep in math class, not me, the matrices
Nobody cares about them it seems,
They lie, tucked in, drowsy between the textbook pages of more important chapters
But today, I finally saw the magic in them
The numbers dance
You can take two matrices, written in powdery chalk,
On the smooth, green ballroom floor on the wall
And watch, as if underwater, all is murmurs, all music
Comprehension of a different sort than paying attention
As the entries shift and multiply and add
Moving, sliding, locking into place like Tetris
And only some partners are compatible, and only under certain circumstances
2X3 and 3X5 meet in the middle, merge and mutate into 2X5
Two become one, each bringing their differences to the ball
New dimensions
Translating, the rows become columns and the whole constellation
Spins, twirling, kaleidoscope
Square matrices waltz
Others salsa and tango
Slowing, slowing, sinking into the final dip
Finding identity
1     0     0
0     1     0
0     0     1

Love blossoms in a thousand colors
It buds in our hearts and blooms in gestures of kindess
Petals that softly caress away tears
Envelope us in fragrance, the sweet embrace of loved ones lost

Humanity burns in six billion candles
Melting wax day by day, warming the world
So many snuffed out before their time
Some still living-dead, burnt out of compassion

A little boy asks what use are flowers and candles
They are gestures of love and humanity
Which do actually protect us from violence

three euro pizza
baking in the oven with tomato sauce, cheese, pepperoni, oregano
the timer is ticking
it rings like someone at the door
who's company you've been expectantly waiting
you ****** open the way
and it hits you, caresses your face
the wafting hot scent of pizza
like the embrace of an old friend

Love is patient and it is kind.

It only wants what is it's own
And not what belongs to someone else.

It admires not itself but
What is worthy in others.

It is honest but softens the edges
Of harsher words and harsher truths.

It is selfless, compassionate, and
Forgives before a wrong can be
Perceived or remembered for the very first time.

It protects like a raincoat,
Or a ferocious mother bear, and hopes
Like an SOS signal.

It is as persistent as the exertion
Of gravity and as constant as the
Existence of energy.


If I had the entire world in my hands or let myself burn at the stake for you but had not love...

Then I would be nothing.

I refuse to be
Persephone
I escape brooding moods
And the reflections of souls dead to you
To accept a pomegranate seed or two
From the underworld was a mistake
I will not pay for
And I do not expect anyone to save me

I cry that your world is so dark
you believe the light inside me is deception
the seasons will come around again
and I will not return
your soil is too damp and oppressive
for any healthy sprout to grow
and your richness and grandeur
too gloomily cast

Familiar with the voice of dismal
and disdain,

I will not be restrained
I will not be abducted
I will not be compliant
I will not forget my life in the sun
I will not be isolated
and
I will not be afraid of gathering flowers

taste
like the feeling of walking out the door
and taking in that clean, bright air
slightly scented with chlorine
by the hot poolside
deep, sky blue water
so cool
wade in

green beans snapping in your mouth

sound
like that last step
meant to be stealthy
touching down on a landmine of twigs,
the falling
of a thousand miniature trees, in sequence
with an axe.
almost,
the juicy crackling of a
campfire, after it's consumed
that accidently drooping marshmallow.
forgive it
as it blackens, warps, and crumbles
it tried to hold on.

green beans snapping in your mouth

smell like dry
ice vapors, that float, free
as a spirit, undefined,
like glass shard cuts
of freshly mowed grass,
breathe in that vibrant green,
discarded and scattered
like an answer blowing in the wind
through the waves of a spring
field, full of thin whistling reeds,
hanging wind bells
on the eave,
dripping with rain.
Listen to the
sweet, nothing-tang tones
delicious
silent-music

can't quite describe
the sensation--
green beans snapping in your mouth

When days turn cold, and the wind has bite
When trees turn gold, and their leaves take flight
When jack-o-lanterns flicker and glow
And black cats slink wherever they go
When tiny children roam the street---
Faeries; ghouls, with candy sweet
When bats and skeletons hang outside
And cobwebs are a thing of pride
A rattle of chains, the clatter of bones
A spooky tune, with desperate moans
Then canine howls fill the air
And a full moon with icy stare
Looks curiously down at such a fright
As always comes on Halloween night
10/of some day/of some year around 09

Am I chasing the sun
Or running away from shadows
I'll never tell him I loved him
So I can stay friends with the dead
But I'll leave my home and religion
To love another

Please don't ask me to leave you
Don't ask me to turn back
Where you go, I will go also
Where you stay, I will stay
Your family will be my family
Your God my God

I do
not know what
moments I will
be given.    Nor
                                                                moments
                                                       what                will be             away
                                                                                             stolen

                                      
                                    not know
                            I do                  if I
                        or not                      chose
                          world                to come
                                      into this


But I am here.

If all the trees made paper,
And all the oceans ink
How long would it take
For a paper boat to sink?

If you took all of the sand,
And made an hourglass
How long would it take
For all that sand to pass?

If the sand was from the eyes,
Of sleeping dreamers far away
How many stories would it take
For night to turn to day?

So I'm on a paper boat,
Sailing in a sea of ink
Looking at an hourglass
And wond'rin if I'll sink.

The ink bleeds through the paper,
But I am not afraid.
For I can see, in my dreams
The stories we have made

I'll sail until the hourglass
Is all run out of time
Then I'll wake up from my dream
Before the sun begins to shine.

9/10+23/09

I imagine it was about a year ago
When another group of enthused college students
from a prestigious university
gathered all their resources to buy necessities from the dollar store
cheap as they come,
to give to the droves of men, women, and many children,
living in the rolling hills of trash and rotting refuse
down in Nogales

you know, the ones the government ignores
and that,
when you ask about them, the police deny exist
and turn you back down the dirt road from where
the poor teem and forage for survival,
camouflaged in their make-shift bedrooms and kitchens
of discarded plastic, wood, and tin.

Tonight,
I am just remembering that moment when we reached the
bottom of our bags
and had to turn a family down
because we didn't bring enough toothbrushes.

Yes I jumped in those leaves
crunchy, fluffy, autumn leaves
Waded in the decorative fountain
Climbed on the public art

Yes I danced swing in the BART station
Hid in the grocery store among rolls of
toilet paper
Had to *** a ride after the Dicken's faire
Played in the rain
Hugged my mother
Made my dad take me to see Tangled in 3D

Yes I measured the baking soda for those
dinosaur chocolate chip cookies
Loved Steve Irwin will all my childhood admiration
Was afraid of the Deep End
Memorized Shel Silverstein

Remember my sister reading me Harry Potter
Gripping my best friend on Tower of Terror, Indiana Jones, Space Mountain
Sang Christmas Carols in October
And I'm not even sorry

I was a pirate paleontologist pop-star
pokemon master steampunk rocker renaissance girl who
time-traveled, hunting T-rex
adventuring with Christopher Robin, Calvin and Hobbes

Made two corsages for my junior prom, fed ducks,
ate at Mels, posed in the dollar store, watched
the Avengers in our glittering dresses for the second

Laughed so hard I cried about the stupidest things
I doubted, got lost in Costco, found my faith
Had my prayers answered
For the bestest, most faithful friends
I have the "simple human relief of knowing you’ve done wrong, and living through it"

And don't take this the wrong way
It's not like I'm going to jump off a bridge
Well, maybe with a bungee cord?

But if I died right now
****! Gone.
I wouldn't say I envied anybody
Not really

We've had a pretty **** great time
haven't we?

Oh sure I'd protest
Places to go, people to see, things to eat, but...

As long as You forgive me
my faults

Whose to say,
There is anything else I HAVE to do
Before I have lived a GREAT life

I have nothing to prove
besides that I am grateful
for this breath of life
which may pass at any moment

He hung up the stars on hooks of steel
Drew them in tight with a silver reel
Wrapped the world in wire
So I could feel
What it would be like to be human

But I didn't listen, pretended I never knew...
I danced in the rain, A thing forbidden to do
Till my circuits ran short
Electrified without cue
Then... I felt what it was to be human

come here and let me love you
come here and let me care
no ***** that I didn't mean it
you know I'm coming there

When will we ever learn
Not to love with ALL our heart
I suppose it just means
I'm a bad economist.

They're playing the
Old songs just like they used to
watch the Dance Queen she takes the floor
She's rocking a mom sweater
shaking it all like an 8.9 earthquake in Chile
and no one can stop her

And if we are slaves to our passions
Then isn't the greatest freedom self-control?
Just know,
Some people would rather watch you get convicted
Than let you follow your own convictions.

I don't really know you, not at all
Forgive me if I am too hasty to hope,
But you remind me of someone
That I've never met

It bothers me sometimes,
The way you turn your head
So slightly against the sun

I've seen that before.

I just want to get you alone, shake you and demand answers.
Who are you?
What are you thinking?
Where did you come from?
Why are you here?

But I can't, for fear that you would look at me and think,
"Who wants to know."

It's me! I'd say. The girl with orchids in her hair.
Who rode the train with you to the end of the line, and fell into the lake.
Who you grew up with in your own hometown, and who always ate the crackers you didn't like.
Who sat in a tree and held your hand till it got dark.
And whispered that she loved you.
And would like to marry you someday.

And then you'd turn, like you'd never seen me before
And say, "I never knew you."
And the worst part is, you're right.

Then why, why do I remember YOU,
The one who visits my dreams at night.


9/15/12

Find a funny phrase
               A flighty feather
                         Let it tumble, twirl
                                Wonder, whirl
          Settle, softly on your nose
       To slip and fall,
        The loosed petal of a rose
             A skeleton autumn leaf
                             **** it with your toe
                                                  Pick it up and blow
                                                                up to the wind
                                                         No fickle feeling
                   Empty sentiment could understand
                 That breeze
                    When your feet
                           finally leave the ground

Bulbous eyes and gaping mouth see splayed flesh
Served on rice with wasabi, bodies naked and fresh
Bash my glass brimming with koi fish swimming
"Am I WINNING?!" he screamed so drunk on saki, a wok he'd
Swept off the counter, I floundered
And so spying asked "Why are you crying?"
Because the waitress with plaited hair quit last week?
Because you're short on rent and you're all out of drink?
Well so am I PUT ME BACK IN THE WATER!
The fodder that expects me to
Always look pretty.

You are the most velveteen of all the rabbits
And I will hold you every night, tight to my chest
And suffocate you sometimes
But most of all love you
And it will be worth it

I want to hold onto you in the pulse of morning
In between youth and old age,
That flash of golden sun pouring through the shutters
When the world softly begins to hum
Before we need to face the day

I want to dance that last dance with you
Before the lights turn off and music haunts the silent air
Before they close the doors

You take me by the heart before you hold my hand
Just by opening your eyes
Thank you for seeing me as no one else does
For recognizing the colors of my spirit
For always saying I love you without side effects and without small print
You are honest to goodness, honest goodness
And I want to bother you every second of every day
As long as my life keeps playing

[record spinning]
"I love you in the morning and in the afternoon
I love you in the evening and underneath the moon"
[bump and static]