I remember braiding hair
at the mouth of the river,
golden strings weaving
between my fingers

legs stretched roughly
across long grass, the
itch of it spreading
under our cotton
dresses

I imagine, the waves
washing over my face
as I swim down consuming
the deep black drop
of nothingness,

as I cover my ears
to the roars
of planes,

turn my guts away
from the motion
of a boat

I listen,
to the beat of
your heart as I thread

strand over strand

and pull

For Rose
17 Jul 2012

Scribe my name upon your heart,
I'll scribe your name on mine,
Hold me close within your soul,
Let me know we're bound together,
With a love that's new and old.
Let me hold you when I will,
Stay with me forever,
Let's frolic in this world together,
And when it's over,
Meet once more,
And frolic in the world to come.

I am a mountain stream,
alive in the midnight sun.
No longer dormant white,
I color the rocks with dappled light
as a keepsake for the magpie and the mountain.
I must run onward
tumbling towards the tree line,
begging rocks to let me pass.

They call me Susitna,
little traveller from the North ridge.
I carry pieces of the mountain Talkeetna,
a gift for my brother, the sea,
named Knik, who sends gilled messengers
speckled silver, white, and red
to welcome me home--
the mountain streaming
to the sea.

Sit in a crowded gymnasium
on a Thursday.
Basketball is not the point.

Stare at the orange speck anyway.
Silence your phone and his voice from before,
Still inside your head,
words the color of the burnt orange ball.

Find music in the squeak of the rubber soles,
Notice the referee's slanting stripes, and how they blur
when you stare, until even pictures inside your head blur.
Nod to the man wearing the red cap beside you,
whose words dribble across your mind,

They imprinting a message:
travel
next year
last year
time
killing
foul
out
losses
hope.

Maybe you miss that last word,
Or maybe you see the message graffitied on the score board.  
Maybe you close your eyes and open them again,
And notice the white jerseys gleaming in song with light,
The same light that slants up toward you,
Your shirt should also be white,
With the same light shining on those who travel
and on those who foul out.

Sit in the crowded gymnasium
on a Thursday,
and forget about what he told you last night.

Bon Iver
Soothes my irritation
I look out the window
The beautiful mountains
Undulating with
The sun's rays and
The dark contrast
Of shadows
Against the
Blinding white snow.
It's a good day
To be alive.
The sun tells me
That there's always goodness
Even if you can't see it
Because it's hiding behind the clouds
For a minute.
The sun will always come out.
It's a good day
To be alive.

Go to sleep child
Wake up tomorrow with a new day ahead

Eyes sore
Begging me to fall asleep
But not without some tears shed before
For no reason
I'll die a little inside
Goodnight
Goodnight

i think I've seen heaven
dressed in partial colours
hiding behind your eyes
i felt it in your touch
sending shivers to my bones
giving me thoughts
i never knew i could fathom
and even I felt every kind of pain
it is you i see
what heaven would be and would feel like
new, fresh, and heavenly.

i think i've seen hell
my blood in my veins
through my heart
that beats only for you
but you don't care, you don't mind
that each pain i feel
burns in vain
but you don't care, you don't mind

*because as I've seen, as I've felt
heaven is nothing
and
hell is my everything

i see you in the silence
and the blanks of
mind. crazy how violence
says more about love
and its power. the contrast
is fading unlike your
eyebrows, and the last
drop of sanity hits the floor.
thoughts of you as
your actual presence,
because your absence has
finished its evanescence.