this day

maybe someday i'll write about the catalist, but for now, i'll just leave this here to help me remember

Chanel is in the bed, half asleep.

"Oh Darlin' It's your full moon tonight," she says, to me.

I get up from beneath my blankets, "oh, I better finish writing my poem, then." I sit and type, and stare into the void of space, and feel and think and taste and cry.

but then she tosses, and from her stuper says: "will you get inside my brain and write one for me, too?" 
so this one is for her...


I looked
so deeply
into you
like a whitewashed fence
in summer sunlight
you glowed
too bright for my eyes
a nakedness
nearly too
glaring
twinkling
shimmering
shivering
a white cold light
it turned
shone upon a black wall
is it fair and silver beaming,
I can't tell now
the eyes of my heart only hurt
exhausted, scarred and scratched
they used to see all form and focus shape
so trusting
but now i ask
if they ever even escaped
the shadows at all
were we ever even outside
on a boat speeding through
the windy waters
feeling splashes on our face
of freedom thrills, leading onward
perhaps the gutter held us all this time
we both wanted the sea
in this our sinus touched
but now the fence is dark
and grey
and projects a dimming shade
upon downcast conscience
eyes wondering how
a blinding light
could turn to such a
dusky haunted ache

the 11th day of the 5th month is approaching

...and it means something to me.

remembering our origins, our place in all time

12.12.15

a birthday began in bareness

buns on a boulder

overlooking bright sunrise

beacon of warmth

beautifully caressing flesh

all of me, vulnerable

and strong, still breathing

breathing stilly, strong

with 100 brothers of Taizé

and the order of all

Nations belting into earbuds:

"See I am near,

says the Lord...

See I make all things

new..."

the oceans and mountains

embracing me from every side,

I was born a breathless baby,  

let me not forget my small 

brevity as my body bursts

with bewitching beating blood

baptised in the breakingdawn

On: wanting

Today I asked, weak and wobbly: "Give me a sign. How much I now need one." Afraid the tides would pull me too far away... So I went a' wandering, asking, listening, waiting, expecting. You gave me no thing to point to as symbol, but you gave me yourself, reminding me that it's been in my weakest states that I've been most aware of your nearness.

Of course there was the giant field, and rackshack trailerhomes, and lingering mustard, and mustangs, and streetnames, and sky, and the songs, heard, weaving so many meanings, all beautiful and each a gift... I've been hungry, and I'm not ashamed to admit my cravings. But You've told me that you know them all. You understand me, and you're enough.

so,

thanks.