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In a palapa in Yalapa
Drinking mezcal moonshine
with a local named Rudolpho
He waves his hands in circles and squares
in candle shadows

Eyes turn inward to see

becoming a mind in the present
childlike wonder
big moon rising
pulling internal tides
stretching roots
grounded in the earth

Rudolpho knows how to laugh in colors
He knows how to dance Zorba style
arms held high to the diamonds in the sky

Nothing was achieved but everything was fixed

Zooming towards a universal experience
among the universal mind

Don't know where the night went

Rudolpho knows the ritual of the sun
Told me what I needed to know
singing
"Hurray another day"
while a parrot calls my name
and a scorpion slips into my shoe.

A palapa has no walls
I didn't either
all I was
was windows

Drinking mezcal moonshine
with a local named Rudolpho
he knows all about goodbyes.
(Senryus)

If I don’t have
a hair-band on my wrist I
feel out of control.

When I was a kid
I thought teens were the coolest
people in the world.

Now I know that teens
are the tiredest, most stressed
people in the world.

How fun would it be
if ceiling fans could support
our weight - bye boredom.
teen thoughts
I think of you when I hear sad songs
When I hear the rain pattering on the roof
In the purple of sunsets
Sunday mornings
The bottom of my wine glass
In the words of my favorite book
The satin of my favorite blouse
And all of the small things
s[weep] s[wept]

tears far more than gold
he wept for i felt unloved
as we walked
he walks with me
brought forth foreign love

u n c o n d i t i o n a l
he wrote agape
on the scarred skin
from rages brute blade

he said, "i worship you,"
as i inhaled

he is the rain
in the drought

his arms
the home the angels bring me to

orbiting
waltzing
eternally my muse
he is my ink
As a teenager, I can sometimes be frantic,
unfocused, stressed and anxious.
Luckily, I was introduced to meditation.
I love meditation and the way it makes me feel - solid.

So, how does it work?
First I set a 15 minute timer and get
prepared to look a little foolish.
I sit somewhere comfortable, cross-legged.
I close my eyes and focus on a point
in the center of my forehead
between my eyes, relax my mind,
and think only of the sound of OM.
When your mind wanders, just go back to OM.
Existing in that territory of nothing
there is a silence that must be listened to.
You end up giving sharp attention to nothing.
It is simple, compelling and satisfying.
When you’re done, a new stillness will remain in your mind.
I love meditation and maybe others will too?
Navigating mercy

An asylum harbor from afar

Here, in the gloaming of your closed
notebooks

A faint-hearted horizon

And the wide beam sea

Two days out from despair

The written word will capsize
you, Anne

God is in your typewriter
and where the boats so often go
Anne Sexton (November 9, 1928 – October 4, 1974)
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