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Life in Transition.

A small lilac bush sits at back right corner of my lot. Some time last year the tree stopped blooming and the life inside of it faded. Early this April, however, I came into the backyard to find the bush bursting with life. Vibrant orange and pale yellow flowers trailed over the branches. Though it had stopped thriving as what it once was - the bush lent its strength and structure to an incoming vine - the beautiful blossoms and sweet, sweet fragrance of the honey suckle. A month or so passed and as the honey suckle faded back to a subtle green, a morning glory vine eased its way in and began the process of showing its life over the branches. Mornings burst over the bush in a blueish lavender. All uninterrupted by, but supported by the life below. I've been observing this transition of life for months. So many lives blossoming then receding over the same set of branches. The ease of exchange. The way it can almost happen before your eyes without you even noticing. The way
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Recent posts

Lands made of iron.

 There are lands made of iron that attract the sky. Drawing lightning to execute life and veining rust-red strength into everything that that remains. Strong and harsh. The way God and the devil dance in me. And some things leave. And some things stay.
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When you can't move well. Art often.

When you get closer, you see the way all the stars move. How the rocks shift with life. How a pulse can pause at the mention of your name.  
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The art and words of quarantine

 
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Self Love

  "Hold on. Hold on to yourself. This is going to hurt like hell." - Sarah McLachlan
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Half Asleep and Dreaming

  " And even though you said today you felt better, and it is so late in this poem, is it okay to be clear,              to say,  I don’t feel good , to ask you to tell me a story about the sweet grass you planted—and tell it again              or again— until I can smell its sweet smoke,              leave this thrashed field, and be smooth."  -From the Desire Field by Natalie Diaz
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Ride.

"Now that my broken bones all have been healed. I think I'm starting to feel." -Ingrid Michaelson
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Heart on fire.

"My heart is like paper. Yours is a flame." - Ray Lamontagne  
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The knowing.

You settled into my dream.   Stared me from my sleep. And told me it was time for a birth.  I asked if I could stay by your side.  A tender “no” was pushed from your lips. I stood to leave while the others danced around me. Your fear and my rejection walked me out of that dream. That morning, grief was born. It poured from my body for 7 straight days. You ghosted my life with coffee, clowns, and diamonds -   A knowing that slipped between us. Then a person of your making began to stain my thoughts. He received the words I couldn’t say to you. And we connected over the beauty and pain you left behind. We both miss your song.
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Refraction.

Anything processed in fear is altered, rerouted unexpectedly. Even the "healthiest" decisions. You skip the drink. The food. The person. The temptation. You expect to be elevated by the outcome. But if you are making the decisions carrying fear or resentment, the path to the desired outcome is altered. You miss the target, plundering only into more stress.
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I do not have footsteps

My body has footsteps. I do not. I slide through life on deep thoughts and breaths. I am passed along in stories, shames, and celebrations. I have moved across phone wires. Been drowned 40 proof at night and forgiven by breakfast. Been resurrected in kindness. Extinguished in rage. Remembered and forgotten. But, I do not have footsteps.
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Impaired Judgement

I live a life of impaired judgement. That’s why the wildest flowers rush to bloom in my arms. And stories filled with truth boom inside my ears. Your stories. His. Hers. And, my stories. I can’t sleep with all these rules. The air is too thin. I want to learn to thrive in the thick of it. And melt magnificently in the heat of it. Unravel and tangle into all new knots. Find a way to slip through the cracks and expand to create space. Experiment with a stance that is completely still and strong. Then, crawl desperately towards the feet of everything I am afraid of. Thrash around. Kick up dirt. And rise again Covered in messy, beautiful life.
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Wild in transition.

I planted a bunch of seeds in my office this winter to try to work through a period of transition that I was experiencing. I bought them lights, watered them, talked to them often, over nurtured them...tried. Now that the sun has been high in the sky and the season is right...they are all growing wildly. Lesson learned. No matter how much you try, you can't force anything to blossom in the wrong season. Even yourself. You can plant the seeds. You can fill them with intention. But, until the time is right it's mostly about sowing hopes and waiting. So, now I'll be thinking about the seeds I want to plant in my own life for the next season. What do I want to harvest when the time for growth has come to an end and it's time to store my energy up for the next natural transition?
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Quoted. Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing

“Do you ever feel that way?" "Lonely?" I search for the words. "Restless. As if you haven't really met yourself yet. As is you'd passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - 'Ah! There I Am! I've been missing that piece!' But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it." He nods, and I think he's appeasing me. I feel stupid of having said it. It's sentimental and true, and I've revealed a part of myself I shouldn't have. "Do you know what I think?" Kartik says at last. "What?" "Sometimes, I think you can glimpse it in another.”  ―  Libba Bray ,  The Sweet Far Thing
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brackish

"this is a dead zone. brackish and black. a hope i cling to because the darkness is deadly. but not more eventual than this ending. I've illusioned myself into this. flashing light into nothing and calling it art. you want me drunk, opened mouthed, and utterly silent. twisted around your need to feel desire. d. " art museum 2017
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Sedum

Press the seed of this story just inside my lips I will nurture it with warm breath and a low hum Let it dance from the tip to the cup of this tongue Germinating Articulating Then tuck it safe inside my cheek for later When it's time to swallow it whole
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Little armoured one.

2017. You've presented me with the Kaleidoscope, the Cactus, and the Armadillo. A year to see things differently. To learn the art of not overdoing it. And to know how to protect myself. You are beauty, balance, and boundaries. And I'm here for 365 spins of the sun. ----- Little armoured one, The beauty is inside. Turn around and spin in the light. You have what you need within you. May your own brilliance refract and overflow.
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United.

What if we weren't divided And we realized that lines were meant for geography not for unity Coordinates to help us find each other, not lose sight of one another And borders for holding things together not for keeping them apart What if the state we were in was humanity And each person held equal weight Because gravity doesn't take into account fear, origin, or acceptance Even though all this hate feels too heavy to bear What if we blurred the lines and realized that we all came from the same energy and we will all be laid to rest in the same ground What if the flag we waved was surrender A flash of white, like the clouds that blanket this entire planet, that lets everyone know they can close their eyes, safe in their skin No matter where their human ship landed in this world
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11 11

She said, "Imagine the plants that could live in that light. I said, "Imagine the woman."
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Redefined.

Kite I tethered myself to the idea of you and lost my footing as your mind drifted away. Brick It doesn't matter how high the climb. The fall is always fast and hard. Time Travel The past feels far more probable than the present. Addiction If you were a drug I'd be dead by now. Quicksand As long as I'm doing it with you in mind I've made no progress at all. Omission That was the day I forgot to tell you that I unloved you. Disenchanted I don't care. That's worse. Remission I don't care. That's a lie. Early mourning Mourning with the person you are mourning is merely a false start. Grayscale How dare you drain the color from my face leaving me with nothing but raw expression.
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Get Personal.

i feel like as individuals the way we solve these problems with the world is on a very personal level. extend love to yourself. to those closest to you. to the strangers you pass. create moments of love and peace around you. we continually act like it’s an us versus them world. and i truly believe that for most it isn’t. for most there is love. there are people outside the flow. those people are casting trauma and collective heartache. but they don’t represent the whole. something needs done, but I don’t believe anger is it. and right now fear and anger are what are at the top.
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