"Always we begin again." ~ St. Benedict

zero is the loneliest number
because it's empty
   -a hole for filling
but if you change your perspective
       the bottom can be the top

the first sign of growth
                      was a hair
     nothing impressive
    just a single strand
   breaking the surface
  in search of freedom
but that didn't stand for long

isolation gave way to conformity
as the grades came
    hair after hair
clumps         communities         culture
strands bowing under brush
parting        under        comb
hair can be tamed like anything else
duress, product and consistency
             wash   rinse   repeat
duress, product and consistency

never was one for riding waves
waved goodbye to that trend long ago
                                                             ­         grew past it
and figured nature knew best
knew how to sprout and flourish on its own
if left unattended

a bush was a phase                                             until it wasn't
shaved down to a surface
                                                     -fla­t-
something to sit atop and add flair
still couldn't much care
   guess I was a factor
but there was still no product

then society issued a dare
I double, triple dog dare you...
                                                          ­to be
and that was the impetus
because I have always been
  regardless of form
hair shed singularity
         knotted to bond
    condensed into a twist
          that bound memory and experience
                               into a journey of self-exploration

and I suppose the true journey started
long before I remember
  but palm rolls have traced lines to their origin
  roots below the surface recognized
  and left to their own design
twisters locked in dust   lent   dandruff
                         and core
all misjudged together
      how long can you go without censoring yourself?

I grew and grew and was and am and will be
         for 6 years 5 months and 18 days
         I was locked and loaded for self
zero was lifetimes ago
         ages prior to confidence
the mane does not make the lion
      but it certainly helps
I took a pilgrimage within a pilgrimage
made a metta meditation of movement
   before I knew love's true touch
                                                          a­nd then
            when head needed it the most
                                                            ­                                dread vanished
and made way for a universe

of all the memories created to forget
                 touch is the most lasting
the scalp is still anointed
from oil years past
                                                            ­   when scissors did meet
life shook with a force renewed
  and shed bare all that was needed

I was born with nothing
now ???  years ?? months and ? days later
I am yet again at zero
  but now, I know
it's not on me
                           it's in me

what’s a legacy to an ever-spinning web
    an apathetic world
               already on to the next meme
a laugh can last longer than
  your     entire     life’s     catalogue
impact buried under coded language
and refreshing trends

if a spider cared
it would wrap its prayers in silk
   before spewing its insides
but the net is wider than floating words
or hollow deeds
                                     **** your ego

we are only passing through
              dust     to     dust
in death we are nothing

he spent a lifetime watching the sky
                                                   the mountains
                                    the rivers
listening to the wind
       ~all the
                   things it
                                 carried and
                                                      unburde­ned

whole rings were dedicated to thinking
                                                  to 'understanding'
though he was ever- expanding
                   and never the same

he spent a lifetime searching
for comfort in answers
for ideas in letters and numbers
                                           is God by any name God

birds have their own way
                                    of praise
trees bow instead of kneeling
                  listening does not mean hearing
                  sight does not mean vision
                  knowledge does not mean understanding
                                           maybe God is a question
and language is the wrong medium

half the world away is a truth
he’s never heard
  in a tongue he’s never spoken
but the sky still stretches
       the mountains still stand
       the rivers still flow
                 and the wind still carries the message
                                                         ­                 of everything

I been wandering aimless
and peeping the synchronicities
I been reading other's words
and deciphering my truth
I been tutoring the youth
and learning from their mentorship
I been slinking out               [of relation-ships]
and treading in myself
I been sitting in silence
and feeling through the noise
I been abstaining from my vices
but creating new distractions
                                                    ­  I been making new playlists
                                                      a­nd blending the genres
                                                      I been triple checking accounts
                                                      an­d noting the trends
                                                      I been avoiding top priorities
                                                      ­and focusing on side quests
                                                      I been writing off the future
but deepening in the now
I been sharing the best of me
while keeping solitude with my shadows
I been becoming my higher self
day by
              day
                      by day
curating a person I can be proud of
                                                              ­ /proud for
I been
and will be

to a forest
a single tree is
but a limb

here in this soil
        between acorn and oak
I have buried my accomplishments
in another dream
          that in my demise
          they may still flourish

we bite off more than we can chew
                   gluttonous

nibbling on half truths
                               we’ve been fed
                                                  our whole lives

un.di.gest.ed thoughts are regurgitated
     in piecemeal

pass this down for me

we are more than we’ve ever imagined
stop plating the unpalatable
              and asking for seconds
throw that **** out
                                    it’s. stale.

an odd pairing can age well
                  with the right conditions

Challah and Feta
Roti and Mozzarella
every dry bread has its own sour cheese

compliments to the flour
    that rose to the occasion
                        to the curd
    that ripened into a match
the loving all started with respect
respect
because pallets don’t have to be the same
to be appreciated
sometimes opposites attract
  and it’s the perfect blend
               of talker and listener
               of traveler and homebody
               of brain and heart

sweet and savory
is a combo for the ages
so why not Sourdough and Swiss
               or a NYC Bagel and Gouda
when there are equal parts trust
there is no limit to the love
   says 2 successful careers
      says 3 grown kids
         says 50 years of marriage
the secret
is never going to bed angry
with each other
  is knowing when you’re wrong
  and admitting it                      (just a lil my bad)
    is keeping god in the family
    and the family in god
      so even when life curdles
        it is just a reshaping
          and not a crumbling

an odd pairing can age well
with the right conditions
     50 years later
and here we are toasting
  to an endless love
                  to the perfect bun and cheese
                        Happy Anniversary!!

quantify freedom
                                          go ahead
               derive a pattern of joy
                                                           from the things you consume

r they correlated
1 could be whole
                  without the void of comparison

there is more b   l   a   n   k     s   p   a   c   e
                                       than clutter
  can you find it
           does its empty detract

do not fill it
                         I beg of you
let the world rest
                               and find itself

thoughts move on without me
old train, new platform
my backpack quivers in abandonment
     left with no back to support it
i keep forgetting the weight i carry

dark rooms and lit paths
sound bathing in the ether/
took a few C notes
for me to recognize the leader/
transpose a new crown
without need for a feature/
the man in the mirror ain't lost
he just a seeker/
secret- what always was
will always be/
kami knows the infinite flow
of inner ki/
energy never dies
just recycles like the rain in the sky/
reduced views get reused
in a cycle of tries/
try try try
try try fail/
took a couple iterations
for the lost to prevail/
exhales and deep sighs
I was numbing my feels/
in clouds of **** smoke
I was blind to the fields/
of opportunity
blessings and deep roots of unity/
singular in motion but narrow-minded
my view could see/
destination
but not the alternate routes/
on a mission for success
I was chasing the clout/
side quest- ion
is a life well spent if you never save/
if you hustle
and grind bones until your dying days/
the grave swallows all time
with an infinite hunger/
crunch seconds into moments
that exist without numbers/

it's crunch time
yea it's time to chew out fear/
it's crunch time
how much change can come in a year/
it's crunch time
how do swallows fly so free/
digest notes
reproduce a whole symphony

I am steadily thinning
             light blues holding me together
                                                      (t­rying to)
  a rambling wisp
                     nebulous and airy
I want to puff out my chest
    be abstract art
                              for your interpretation

  I look down at you
                         as you look up
                                                        I am dying
such is the cycle of it all
            I hope
                              simply
                       ­   that in my shedding
                                                     you will prosper
                  that when I rain down
                                                    you will catch me

or try to

today is yesterday's hope
    but tomorrow
           tomorrow holds everything the past
hasn't seen

an oracle says omens
                                      are constantly presenting
if you just look
                             or listen

I've been looking all my life
and the message is clear
        tomorrow
        tomorrow will be my day
as soon as the clock strikes 13
                    it's my time

mom says safety and security are key
teacher says Maslow's hierarchy agrees
boss says money supplies all my needs
and I listen

I've been listening all my life
and the message is clear
job, girlfriend and car secured
renting but my space is home
owe 31,000 in student loans
but that degree, I own

fact check anyone with a fatter check
knowledge is an expensive throne

under foot
fertilizer whispers of fallen leaves
     not blackened or auburned
       by sweat or toil

light rests buried under compact soil
     silent and dense
     cold and unstirred
                                       forecasting autumn

waking dreams are ground into dust
and tossed to stoic winds

pillars stand unmoved by clocks
          tradition and duty
          tradition and duty
          tradition and duty
                           swing hands in unceasing circles
do not let your light be fodder

  under foot
fertilizer whispers of fallen leaves
     as stars stare holes into your black

my shadows warn of looming undercurrent
   it is already here
familiar shackles                        ankle-biting
     at old touch points
feet trudge
                      heavy
                              ­    then light
                      heavy
                               ­                       then light

I cut my strings 2 years ago                                (some of them)

                                                      the crown tips

shedding is continuous
heavy
            light
heavy
            light
heavy
­            light
                           I am learning to carry it well
to march
                 — in spite of burdens
                                                       /excess is a burden
                                                       /my burden is light

a forced dance at my feet
  I shuck and jive
   for a reticent forest
leaves applaud                        trees are unamused
                 — they’ve taught me better

                                                   stop running
                                                      plant in it
                                                    breathe it in
                                                              ­                  winter is   here

sadistic numbers
                               the map bleeds
                               a projected suicide

                                                        ­         too close to call

the heads yelp anyway
      decimals spilling out
                                           to fill the gaps

THIS JUST IN
the world is ending
the world is ending
the world is ending

                                   don't stop watching!

at the intersection of
                                 nowhere and nothing
destiny bellows
  its call echoes through chambers
                           and gets caught in a keyhole

how can something so vast as the future
be unlocked by something as minute
                                                as the now

when my dreams dream of me
  it is a reoccurring affair
    two consenting parties
                    connecting in a liminal space
                                                                                      beyond perception

they question
                         where have you been

I offer rehearsed verse

they freestyle a new testament

I pause unsure

they ad lib ****** sounds

I hype them up

they step back and make room

I stumble into imagination                      ~expertly


when my dreams dream of me
it is a reoccurring affair
a song and dance we both get off to
it is only a matter of time
from one meeting to the next
the law of attraction works both ways
                        double-time
and yet
              every time we consummate
they question
                         where have you been
as if I’ve been cheating with mediocrity

the incentive for truth is self-fulfilling prophecy

we have been lied to in circles
and led to believe time is linear
but the end does not justify the means
circles have no end
                                   or beginning

before any axioms are presented
start with why
                           why ask the question that leads to the answer
                           why seek the answer that leads to more questions
the axiom is bliss
now dismantle the argument without lying
          to yourself                                                  to the future
                                       to your neighbor

why ask?                         -knowledge
why seek?                       -wisdom
why teach?                     -clarity for the cycloning circles
this means       before our end
the collective should know
                                     know- who, what, when, where, how
why?                                -for the sake of prophesying
                                           for the sake of manifesting

there is no timeline where stupidity
is a virtue
and we are past axioms
so ignorance is inexcusable

in the Salem Witch Trials
girls as young as 4 were murdered for fear
  of their magic
fear kills more dreams than ignorance or stupidity

the incentive for truth is self-fulfilling prophesy
so how dare we shatter the mirrors
and nail the windows shut

I could see myself clear before
  the distortion of time
warped perspective has taught me
  sight is unreliable

wrinkles and greying hairs
smile lines and dimming irises
  age betrays position

some reflections breed only hate
  but I want to feel pride in growth
in observing tradition
  there are cracks in my face

the mirror in the distance
holds my ancestors' disposition
                                                     ­              is that a grimace or a grin?

before i had
i wanted
before i wanted
i lacked

                                   there is still poverty in achievement
                                   shiny things have pockets of their own
                                   cavities deep with desire
                                   ravenous with dissatisfaction

amnesia finds me searching for what is lost
                    value or sentiment
                         the words           are               the first            thing           to
                                                              ­                                                       slip
each
at some point
    originated from these hands
their texture is unfamiliar now
though it's only been one day

full-on compositions are
released to the void
     luckily clouds hold some vapor

I hope it rains tomorrow

forecasts say it's unlikely I will
ever see you again
your disappearance hasn't even occurred
   (to me)   yet

dust will fall
but will ashes
                          this is a lesson in fighting for

I sighed it all away
  before any instinct to clinch
       or swing
          or break

am I better composed than my poetry
simply because I accept
          without questioning

the formulas are lost
      the charge is lost
            the message is lost
yet I still hope to discover myself

amnesia will remind me tomorrow
of another item vanished
but today I plotted out
a future
and nothing was missing

Love is both muse and music
both poetry and purpose
a symphony of serendipity


The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to imagine
    but a lifetime to create
though words may flood your page
seek the source
love is the strongest force
        it exists beyond language
    is felt before touch
let your sentences be drenched
in intimacy
and punctuated by appreciation

Even when communication is nonverbal
let its essence be affection
     devotion
not only are run ons acceptable here
they are encouraged
marriage is not a life sentence
but an epic of possibilities

Adventure forward knowing that
the future is unknowable
but you are forging it   -   together
ellipses are waiting for you
you create time
   mold it to your will   -   together
trust the process
                              but also
trust each other
     to be auxiliary verbs in
       the act of loving

Seek understanding in your verses
             there is no winner
when existence is the goal
     co-existence
     co-creation
ego aside
be co-stars for the Virgo moon
live in the ease of each other
  even as cycles spiral around you
  even as you spiral around cycles
be the period that stands firm
                                                      for your partner
even under questioning

When line breaks feel like endings
   indent   and   reinvent
you are both forever changing
   so change together
   make edits together
it is a lie that brainstorms are
only the beginning
they will find you
in idle moments
  when the mind wanders
   raining down doubts
though ideas may blot your page
again seek source
  and what started your course

Write to each other
Write for each other

The perfect love poem takes just minutes
to draft
    but if you do it right
it is always under revision
even after you decide to publish

The future is today

Millennials think in centuries
when decades pass in a blink

A year gives 31,536,000 seconds to wait
but not a single minute to waste

Time is money they say
and what millennial
                       doesn’t want to
                                               be a millionaire

submerged under peppermint bubbles
  cortex muddled by damp ears
I reach out and touch a flower
     as it whirlpools around intention

     in this manmade lake
I have made of myself an island
  limbs sinking and reappearing
  my face disappears
  and returns renewed

      this whole time I wasn't breathing
the drain excavates water
   for buoyed relics of responsibility
the weight of life
latches onto my exhale

         release         release         release

I will be whole in this lifetime

I rise with vestiges of beauty
     clinging to my essence
         freedom is assured

they come a penny a dozen
cheap
           copper
                        thoughts
there's a well full                                             ...somewhere...
but no one is thirsty for water anymore
so much Ciroc and Moscato
poppin' bottles and *****
poppin caps and pills
we've subbed out dreams for quick thrills
   eyes open or closed - I'm swimming
but no copper in my goals
I want gold  platinum        DIAMONDS
pay me well and I will sell you my well
full of watered down birthday cake
and wrinkled candles
those flames were blown out with childhood

the moon is the grand architect
feel her pull in high tide
             feel her push when unsure
  on dark nights
  in urban scapes
   surrounded by artificial light

she still shines through
her blueprints are mystery
especially when ideas are new
   she is a slow reveal
     an inspired temptress
                    lean into this
press fingers into her curves

as she undresses
visibility is not always the goal
but when light reflects
it is inevitable

while we question her cycles
she is not afraid of the rebuild
       the versions we hold of each other
       died many moons ago

Get quiet
         No, more quiet than that
Be small town back road
At 3am
Get still
         No, more still than that
Be tree that cuts through breeze
See change centuries away
But stop your trembling leaves
Let sap cry but don’t move to leave
Or brush away the tears
The world is healing
   And breaking at the same time

Get quiet
Enough to hear rifts under seas
Still
Enough to feel the shattering of cycles
The process through is not easy
Urges to relapse yell loudest
When siloed
Misery loves itself
Do you love yourself?



Don’t answer-
     Be quiet enough to hear the answer
Still enough to taste your fears
  And insecurities
Savor them before
Spitting out
Versions of you have                  -                must
Die to make way
Make a friend of grief
Hold its hand
And when you feel ready
     Move forward

he met his mortality with trembling limbs
    and gnashing words
            fiercely independent
    and clutching at every loose strand
nothing was in his control

he cursed life and death
  in the same breath
because opportunity had never proven itself
         to him
and so he asked more of time

     demanded it
to bribe regret away
he lived a life unlived
but this was invisible to him
                                                   until the end

it all lay behind him now
flatlands and an apathetic sky

in the same room as a baby
and a great grandmother
wondering
how to be like both

eager yet slow
curious and wise

eyes don't know how to focus
      or what to focus on
perhaps it's a sign of the times
a signal that I am seeing things anew

what came first:
          the inhale      or      the exhale
is the moment of transition
a peak or a valley

this is the question of birth and death
    of rebirth and culmination
the leaf whispered to the seedling
yet neither remembered first touch
  a mother's womb is its own ecosystem
       a dark moist vacuum

           regalia regalia

she wants to lie down
and stop feeding but everything
relies on her
   even if she is just a link
she must be the strongest one
stand up when others sit
spit conviction while others question
in the endless spinning
she must have her own orbit
she has always held tight to what she needs

needless to say
she has been both twig and tree
and she came first waaaaaaaaaaaaaaay
before any man

the kitchen table is set
     is perpetually set
with glued on utensils and fine China
bowls poured into with empty calories
and                even emptier words
we are accustomed to paper plates
and one off exchanges
        to using things and
          throwing them away

When she first walked through the door
She was a Ghanaian priestess
A titan
Large and mythical and unbelievable
Her eyes held mystery
Deeper than poetry
And her walk
More grace than a royal procession
I can’t believe she looked at me

She sat detached from the lights
The crowd, the noise, the libations
Her presence was louder
I felt every inch of separation
Wanting distance to shrink
Wanting her eyes to question me
I can’t believe I talked to her

Weak prose and memorized verse
Why hadn’t I written something new
Of dreams with answers
Words that could entice her sight
Instead I opened a window
And shared a simple view
I really wanted to bust down a door
Or demolish a wall
Or flatten a building
As sacred space for her feet
I can’t believe I got her number

Insightful reels and pics
Over analytical data
Assumption of interests and realms occupied
I think she rose from the ocean’s depths
To swallow the earth whole
Or rebirth it
All this from 10 minutes
How exactly do light years condense
Into such time
I can’t believe she said yes to a date

Ears swoon at her voice
Tongue delights in sushi rolls
Heart pounds at something
I am unable to admit
I wish for more time to sip her tea
To savor her umami
I go in for the hug and omit my lust
I can’t believe I didn’t go for the kiss
I can’t believe I didn’t go for the kiss
I can’t believe she said yes to a second date

In a foreign house
with more comfort than my own
Fung shei challenging chaotic thoughts
Chaotic thoughts racing through her unknowns
A touch to feed her laugh
A look to feed my longing
My lips to her lips
In a time outside of time
When chaos and order dance together
I can’t believe I’m falling
I can’t believe I’m falling
I can’t believe I’m falling
But my stomach knows this feeling
And my heart knows this pace

I can’t believe I found her
In another lifetime
She can’t believe I ever left

the classroom has no doors or windows
  no walls or boards

in the 13th grade there was an unboxing
to unlearn
tossed the rubric and curriculum aside
to make way for words unwritten
     have you ever found clarity in the unknown
     discovered validation in the void
darkness has taught me insight
way better than any book or person
amidst trembling and shaking limbs
there was a steady hand
guiding
    with more wrinkles than time
         winding
  with more curves than straight lines

I have talked to my ancestors
listened to the texture of wisdom
through their frequency
528 Hz   -   that's love
      outside of checked boxes
      and conditionals
if you surrender to feeling fully
then you will know   -   that's love
and the heart can hold
just as much memory as the brain
  if you're open to receiving

body,   every body
will tell you of the risk
of running toward freedom
spirit,   every spirit
will tell you of the reward
of not staying stuck
   a universal student
I have a couple answers now
           but still no definitive statements
I am in the timeline I'm creating
and yet
             I am so much more than a point
the finite is a container for the infinite

this classroom has no walls or windows
no doors or boards
this teacher                no face

the buddha is in everything
    and that's love

Logic tries to guide me
I slip on fallacies
                                                                                   Intuition releases me
                                                                                   I float unsure

this is all I can do to stop the words
the anticipation of something great
      or disappointing
I hope the former

my stomach is a pit
that deepens with each  l  o  o  s  e  breath
diaphragm creates space for love
and pain
unsure of which will last longer

I cannot see your face
but I can picture your desire
it is mirrored in my eyes
clears a home in my mouth
though unspoken

I want to part your lips and slip you a secret
   I want you more than my form can hold

can we melt together
is this too much to ask for the first time
if so              I can stop the words
   (their expression, at least
not their existence)

to save a thread
            or cut it out
     or
           let
                  it
                       dwindle
the     natural      route