There is nothing in the intricate design of the eye that tells us how we are able not only to see the world, but to look back upon it.
Is there a magical element yet unknown, somewhere deep in the vitreous humor, or hidden within the optic nerve that burns with the purpose to seek out beauty in the world?
To capture it in our gaze, to own it for a rich moment or two.
Is there some electrical impulse within this blinking vessel
that projects our delight upon the object of our affection?
We know we love, and yet how can this be so? It does not exist anywhere in our anatomy.
We know that we would risk everything for that enduring answer, seen radiating from another's eyes,
and yet, how can we grasp it and hold it tight, this invisible thread?

Where, in the gray matter and electrical streams and storms of our mind, lies our imagination?
A game of telephone from neuron to neuron sends the fleeting thought
that behind our closet door there may be another world,
where a nautilus is king, and great whales swim the cosmos, feeding on the tails of comets.
But only for a moment do we think, perhaps it is so.
Until we open the solid door, and what we believe,
because we must,
shows us the simple fact of a tidy linen closet.
We believe it, because we must.
For there is nothing in our marvelous jellyfish of a brain that tells us that the world can be
anything
and everything
we want it to be.  
And with that, the World, and all the other worlds
here, there, and in between,
smile at us,
the fleeting shimmer of light in an endless sea.

I know this space, and in that knowing, a creature was born, strange and shining. It is yours and it is not yours. It is mine and not mine.
I know these people, the ones who have come and will come, the ones who seek to remember.
You will not find another so easily, for the bow I wield was shaped by violence, cut from the tree, carved deep with courage, survival, longing, seeking, beauty. I have always been the first to raise my hand, the firstborn, first to fail, first to leap toward faith. You will not be able to pick it up, this now, for it was made for my hand alone. Yours is waiting, still.
I know these women. We became girls again, building forts, hiding, finding, cutting trails through the wilds, through our shared heartbreak, picking berries, laughing, crying.
I know this lovely thing which moves and grows, foraging on the unknown. This thing, you do not understand, but there is no need for you to understand, stop trying.
You are the farmer’s hand, worn by time and practice. You bring water, decide where to prune and let wither; decide where to graft and where to plant the next crop.
Do not forget. This is a place of remembering. You need not understand it to feed it, to make way for it, to love it as we do.  Do not dismiss it. It will not be diminished by disbelief.
You need not understand to see it’s power and its purpose.

The stab of pain, all shock and neon lights,
then the bright bone white blinding center of it.
Drowning out thought and time.
This skip of heart beat and ripple of adrenaline,
is over in a matter of seconds,
and still the breath catches in the lungs, jaws clench, the muscles tense in anticipation of
another wave of arching agony.  
As the electrical storm goes quiet for a moment, the relief is like a cool  shot of morphine.
The ecstasy of being without it, though it is fleeting, is the reminder of life, of life force.  
And then, a fog of amnesia.
The dull throbbing sets in again, to give way to another spasm, a vice grip at my temples.
When this night, and this episode come to a close, I will forget how truly alive I felt in this moment of white hot misery.

If I keep my promise
If I carry your hope when you cannot hope
If I speak the gentle words of comfort when your lips are dry and parched,
If I make a quiet and sweet world for your escape when the world outside seems too cold
or too loud, or too wild
If I give you the sky and all the space of the prairies to dance, and run, and ride
Then, my dear, we will never fade,
or lose our luster.
If you want it, love, a life unimaginable.

For L.

For the briefest of moments,
a few shallow breaths,
a rolling shock of cold numbness creeps
as my gaze falls on the sleeping face next to me.
the short burst of amnesia leaves me adrift
untethered
as if I could slip off the edge of the world
a world and a self that seem for a moment, so unrecognizable
so wrong, I shake my head, I must have this wrong.
All is lost, it has always been lost, in that moment.
Then the warmth returns, and I see that it is my life laid out before me. I am no visitor here.
The haunting feeling that I have known this truth before. This eternal emptiness
lingers
just around the edges
the opposite of deja vu.

Beneath the raging winds,
Beneath the blinding rain,
there is a voice so quiet
you did not know it was speaking
until now
when you stopped running
you sat,
you breathed,
and heard it.

Beneath the wild drums of your heart,
a quieter world
The one voice you never knew was yours.
And the world longs to hear it.

Waiting on the bone collector

to come collect the pieces I left her.

The pieces of bone from this ragpicker

She grinds them for her white gunpowder.

To shoot me up
or shoot me down

when that bone collector comes to town.

We never should have gotten this far. It's purely luck that we got by.

Just hanging on to hope for dear life.
But when we get to that place where it's up to you
To Take a leap of faith
To tell me the truth

When we get up on that high wire
Like a fool, I thought we would walk each other across. Pushing harder, getting traction, finding balance between our hands.

As I lean in, you just slide right past
I find myself reeling in open air.

And you call me a fool as I fall toward the earth
Saying- see. I knew you didn't have my back.
Guess you were right all along as bones splinter and crack.

You used to tell me you never thought we'd make it this far.
when the truth was you never put your money on it, never got in the car.

You were always just playing house. Locking doors behind me so I'd never get out. Locking doors in between us so I'd never get through. Locking yourself away so no one could hurt you.

Too eager, child.
You drank it all up. Every. Last. Drop.
The shoe has dropped
The teeth have been kicked in
The salt has been rubbed
The breath has been knocked out
there's nothing left, child, but to wait for impact
dead end.

Eviscerated, grabbing desperately to keep up with the spilling of everything I've held in all this time. All that once belonged to me, ripped open and unravelling. Past repair. The shock of fear, the shock of unnatural emptiness where emptiness should never be.  

The thing I thought I would never lose. My self, now a pile of unrecognizable parts.  Breath catching and trembling in my throat. Frozen in the thought that I cannot come back from this.

Knapsack full, you keep looking for the last piece.
The missing bone. The fragment.

It pulses, somewhere in the dark, calling to be part of the whole.

The parts of my body, scattered to the ends of the earth in that one moment,
when I was forgotten.

We're living close to the bone this season
Skin stretched tight
Water scarce
Dust in teeth
Then you turn to me one morning
Sleepy smile
"Listen"
The sky rumbles and for a moment I think it is the old truck coming to life.
And the tears wash trails down our cheeks
As the roof chimes with each drop of salvation from above
the valleys fill with the flash floods of instant gratification
Some unforeseen forgiveness
And new blooms appear overnight
Stretching out their faces to the sun,
The burn gone, now the light illuminates bone and flesh and petal
The hands have a moment to rest
Plunged into the cool water
A new river winds down the old canyon
"You gotta love something.
Me, I love that river."

Every time I’m full of sparkling stars
Filled with the hope that waiting brings,

The answer comes each time, a flood,
A crushing feeling shutters me.

I chase and chase after each bright spot
As they scatter and rush far from my reach.

It’s a silly childish wish, I know
A hoping without a chance of hope
So many paths I’ve walked that make
That hope the failure of my stars
And a fool of foolish dreams.

You were the magnet
that pulled me through.

Now you've turned me the wrong way round
I can't get close to you.

You're cold water
strike bone and run on through.

You were the sound
I followed every note.

Now it's too sharp
my words fall flat
there's only blank space where I wrote.

You were the taste
like honey on my tongue.

Now I can't keep the bitter gone.

I'll hold this space
between kind words we didn't say.

I'll hold this hope
against all hope
that tomorrow is that day.

You'll turn with tears
turned back to honey

You'll turn around
pull me back in.

and make me stay.

Small boxes, edges with just a hint of curve
items
deadlines
keys to a puzzle and dot to dot to dot....connected
The hours spent climbing up and down this little two dimensional ladder
on yellow legal paper

when I'm done, I'll feel something
pride
relief
I take the weights that pull heavy on my time and my mind,
and squeeze them between the two guide lines, cursive please

the crisp check inside of the box, awards and accolades must know this feeling

On this list that no one sees, my life flows in roller pen ink and pink sticky notes- just to make sure I don't forget.

Don't forget. This. Then. Me.

coffee cup rings and circles around the shameful thing that must go on tomorrow's list.

get it done and you will know relief.

The metronome of my hours, minutes, seconds as the boxes are ticked
tick tick tick

Accomplishments. And yet I feel betrayed by the sun slipping under the horizon, it was only just watching my progress from its noon perch.

enter the data. search the name. find the right person to call. smell the rain coming in through the screen door. Soon sleep and cloudy dark night will push those boxes, unchecked, to the next page,
another day.
Another tiny ladder to climb.

I heard it then, through the tension that tried to hold back the sliding, halting slurring. I shouldn't have come. I always do anyway.
You tried to be funny with your too loud voice and all I could do was squeeze the wheel, knuckles bursting white.
It was not you, and the moment would not pass. I willed myself to keep moving, and the sickening lonely fullness came over me. Fullness like wretching, but I could not purge it.

Night’s joy begins early
Sun setting
You show me your teeth and run to the bedroom
I follow and we begin to fall easily toward each other,
Alexa…play…
My eyes focus in on your steel eyes, each silver hair on your chin
Something sings outside, birds, frogs? They are laughing, cheering.
The bed is too soft, but the floor is better.
Tonight, you will be my object of worship, my deity.
I dedicate my pleasure to the cause. Each rolling wave, I hold tighter, hold my breath.
I wrap you in each passing daydream, each fervent prayer, tighter and tighter
A spider’s web round and round you, round and round me
Until each glistening thread breaks, all at once.
And we fall
Away
Laughing.
Amen.