aug 30

"no feeling is final"

sitting cross-legged in the present
joy bubbles from the core extending
from my spine in a ethereal blue glow
like an iridescent tree
strong and growing,
glowing

ah, take in a deep breath
exhale, smiling

nothing and no one reaches
permenance
no forever
interconnected eternal webs
of change, of dynamic nature force
like survival
the fit, the calm, the roots in my palms
watch my eyes growing deeper
as my hands gather scars
cuts and carves into the ground
tender earth soul

sitting cross legged under branches
who whisper "peace" in the breeze
live water heals memories
trees stir memories

rememberance is a form of meeting
forgetfulness is a form of freedom

i contain multitudes
when i dare to use my voice in service of my vision it does not matter if i am afraid

i speak
of change, of gratitude for growth
more than silver lining

of belief in the present
and in no feeling is final

may what i do flow from me like a river, no forcing and no holding back
sitting cross legged- under branches
physican, heal thyself

water washes over me

aug 22-2010

I honor those who try
to ride themselves of any lying
who empty the self
and have only clear being there.

- - -

Keep walking, though there's no place to get to.
Don't try to see the distances.
That's not for human beings. Move within,
but don't move the way fear makes you move.

Walk to the well.
Turn as the earth and the moon turn,
circling what they love.
Whatever circles comes from the center.

---

This world is a watery shadow of ocean-love.
That sea of light cannot be contained
in single human beings, so leave fragments,
and be the mountain.

---

When light returns to its source,
it takes nothing
of what it has illuminated.

It may have shone on a garbage dump, or a garden,
or in the center of a human eye. No matter.

It goes, and when it does,
the open plain becomes passionately desolate,
wanting it back.

---

Every part of you has a secret language.
Your hands and your feet say what you've done.

---

Drive slowly.
Some of us walking alongside
are lame!

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.




from The Essential Rumi, translations by C. Barks. 2004

aug 19

"don't get me wrong, relationships take work, but love should Not be that hard." AF

Float On, Float On

aug 18

love, like true love
the subject of far too many
first lines, and
more than enough poems
stanzas sick of violet talk
flowery blind fools trippin
on sips of breath and sighs and kisses


i miss myself
caring so much about the other
forgetting the sister
inside this soul
these lungs and heart
the only reason my spring is sprung
my name is rung
by the ring of a sunrise

i am calm, not surprised
by the changes happening
life rearranging before these eyes
small rhymes and ties that bind
a spring in my step
left foot in front of right foot
and so on, go on,,,
on the ground
heart bowed, hands high in hallelujah

give thanks for the breath
and not eschewing
these moments for sparks
illuminating this life
these moments for knives
sharpening this life
daily grind on the whetstone

make these bones live
i am
i walk on

la vie/3

you do not walk into light
to become illuminated
the moment strikes you right
like match in flight to flame
dragging to strike

here you are, here
the point of arrival
present moment
here you are, now

in flight, then strike
then flame
never the same
always change

anything is possible

after all,
little match
it is in you all along

la vie/2

depending on whose eyes
heart and mouth
shapes a perspective,
right or wrong

i sing
for the love i bring
no forcing and no holding
back
the way nature streams
months into seasons
time into reason
for change

i slept one night
and awoke to not even a rearranged room
but a monsoon of
upside down backwardness strewn
across my brain like
tornado path trash
memories for debris
scraps of heart flesh
sticking to stones
somewhere are bones
in my legs to walk on
because
what do i say, stunned
help me understand, please?
looking around in wonder

staring at the blunder of thunder
of choices conceived from hurt

now the voices of song
sing of a love stronger
than right or wrong
but of seasons gone
chaotic nature
ensures change

the comfortable are always rearranged

La Vie/1

Setting goals and realizing them.

Generating vision.

Watching a sunset.

Breathing deeply.

Present moment, oh, yes, here I am.

Peeling back the rind, biting into the natural kind, planting the seeds I find.

A smile is a heart beating with sun shining through its rhythm.

Have wide angle vision, perspective.

Inviting time to heal.

Defining recovery.

Oh, self-resiliency and self-reliance, heyy.

Silence and acceptance.

Reclaim power in reclaiming.

Walking with hope.

"Take it light" and "No big deal"

Intolerance for bullshit and disrespect.

Grassroots, movement of the people.

Frozen grapes and dried mangoes.

The Vine- hummus, hookah, family.

Dreaming, living the questions.

Change is constant.

Anything is possible.

What is next?

try/1

spin the web, spider
weave the web
around your head
a design of thread in time
a process
with purpose, skill

from across
looking from another branch
distance calls perspective
to answer reflections
rings

oh, a spider
a web, threads in time
another web,
more threads in time

untitled/4

'of what have i ever been afraid'

words and lines stream
thru the mind like comets in the skies
vibrant dreams regale like ribbons
like we are children
and our mothers talk about us
and one mother clutches
thoughts inside her throat
words she could never say
out loud

about belief, about trust
trusting another to come through
to be there
to meet her child in the pouring rain
afterschool
before cell phones, texts
faith that good-bye was just "so long"

to trust is risk, refined courage showing up at the door step of
the house of trial and error
how sure can one be
of arrival, of word and of body
of understanding as recourse

mother let go and trusted
she would be okay, afterschool
play viola and piano and
take the carpool, van, home

with you
that is the trouble
you
never
came through

i am not afraid
but i do not trust you

untitled/3

i am no idol
i am no ideal
i am more than expectation
i am sunshine burning miracle child of star promise
i am mystical and hypnotic, other worldly
i am shaman
i am of family
i am of stretching willingness
i am of patient understanding
i am not perfect
i am alive, knowing sometimes, all the time, all i can do is keep breathing
i am consumer
i am more than the last conversation
i am by, for and with myself
i am working on self-care, self-awareness, self-strength
i am climbing everyday
i am on a bicycle
i am behind a computer, checking email
i am trying
i am listening to requests, wants, needs, hopes
i am navigating through contradictions
i am zanmi, zanmi, zanmi, zanmi. Friend.
i am trying
i am rising and breaking like blossom
i am nothing much
i am along the continuum, snailing along the arc
i am ebb and flow
i am standing in the ocean of it all, landlocked
i am wishing, hoping, sweating in prayer
i am remembering to give thanks
i am wondering where is there no earthquake, no tremor ,... the desiderata?!
i am trying to understand you
i am pulled and pushed by forces beyond my control
i am in very little control
i am listening to Nina, Ani, Tracy, Billie, Asalah
i am part Ayisen, Senegalese, anglais, Lebanese, blowing around the world like a breeze
i am stories
i am humbled
i am writing (again)
i am in need of return
i am remembering constant care and consideration
i am anticipating a later arrival
i am searching and attempting discovery
i am invoking spirits: Gibran, Lorde, Rilke, Ginsberg, Malcolm, 2Pac, Nina... Nina...
i am whatever, it does not matter
i am casting visions and believing in recreation, regeneration

i am containing multitudes---

i am asking,
who are You?

untitled/2

i'm in meetings all day
she tells her calendar
as if blinking would,
could change
all the arranging
and decision making
and importance
the world is a beautiful place if
you don't mind a few dead minds
in the higher places

the world is a beautiful place,
if it has
momentum,
purpose
like it is all going somewhere
not up some position
and cash dollar ladder
but across an ocean of
circles of life
lives
cycles, chains and unrestrained
hungers
mother nature hugging darwin
for presenting one theory
on why it all is the way it is
or some of it
some of the time

this, this, this
sense of duty, school
assignments, deadlines
graduation, benchmarks
heavy undulations
theme park rocking ship
will end, does end
and then...

oh, burp and life
goes on, like naps after yawns
applause after song
sing, singing, i'm still singing
where am i belonging
post-now
post, as in fence
outside the black tipped iron gates
never seen a beast so well groomed
teeth polished and claws
manicured

she said:it is better to speak
remembering we were never
meant to survive.

in the mouth of the dragon of america
in the gates of the beast of ( ***)

(exhale dissidence
walk resistance
faith in persistence
movement of jah people)

and he said:
everything little thing is gonna be alright!

breathe and move on.
move on and breathe.



influences-
A. Lorde and B. Marley, L. Ferlinghetti

untitled/1

if it were voices instead of colors...
there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.

holding it all,
i try, i
close my eyes
to rest from dreams
let sleep
sew the seams
faded fabrics
torn and frayed pieces
like pages in notebooks
bound by discovery

rest to recover
peeling back, layer by layer
an orange rind, a spiral
peel back, layer by layer
recover from
the daily nose to the grindstone
america, i've given you everything and now i am nothing
recover, my dreams
america, i'm putting my queer shoulder to wheel
an act with faith that i never fall apart
because i never fall together
peeling back to discover
silient pieces
peeling back the rind, to
unwind the grind and grow
towards someone kind
-.-
ebb and flow is (all i know)
seek to understand
rise for air
rise like water up
tree trunks
out branches of forests
where everything is blooming most recklessly
bursting in vibrant colors
she said-
we owe it to ourselves to recreate ourselves
and find a different if not better way to live
peel back, layer, peel back
the rind, unwind the grind
and walk into the guest house
everymorning a new arrival
another piece, another
fray and faded piece
wanting to belong to something greater
community, collective
belong belong belong,
see me, let me live with purpose
my dignity is here
amidst bread and poetry
in open veins that do not end in me
sitting here sewing
patchwork pieces
seam by seam
close my eyes to rest from dreams
colors and shrieking voices
vision, peace
accompany ( ...) as we move through the world
peace,
thought
peace,
word
peace,
face
peace,
choice
peace,

ebb and flow is all i know
peace
peel back, layers
awareness burns like sunshine
scorching and blinding and guiding
you would rather throw stones
at a mirror?
i am the mirror, here are the stones

blink and breathe
rest, closed eye reprieve

hope in rest
dream awakens with you
rising like the sun
burning with duty, dignity
along the ebb and flow
(all i know)

serenity? perhaps
part of a greater community? perhaps
peace by piece
peace by piece

4/27

influences by
r.m. rilke, j. rumi, b. iver, j. smith, t.n. hanh, r.dalton, a. ginsberg, m. mbaye

otra vez

life moves
people move through life
in circles
square one is another stone
another step
along the pathway of universal highways
do not try and put your hand out
as soon as you reach to grab
the object crumbles like
seashell to sand
that is time for you
time tells
time heals
time reveals
time ticks and people rush
to be less late
but is it not all fate
it is what it is
it happens
tug and war of ebb and flow
you go and what happens after that
life will show
you
it's when we eschew
the process
which we come out with so and so product
that we conduct hysteric theatricals
and forget the circles
holding on to every thing and every one
so tightly
chokes and crumbles vitality
freedom in every step:pratimoksha
whispers, let go
with a smile of faith
just like me, just like you
we shall each carry on



inspired by Kahlil Gibran (translated):
But let there be spaces in your togetherness and let the winds of the heavens dance between you. Love one another but make not a bond of love: let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

If you love somebody, let them go, for if they return, they were always yours. And if they don't, they never were.

poem/4

cannot hold, cannot bold "control"
letters to word forms and falls
cannot depend, cannot rely
life, as it will
rip and roll like tide
make me want to
day dream hide inside of bed covers
face the day, face the day
is all i'll say until it is night and alright
enough stuff, the day was tough
breathe and ease into excuses
tomorrow
tomorrow and really
i have nothing to be scruffing about
no huffing and puffing, no shout
working in and out of every hour
mind soaked, drenched in showers of thought
ramblin and scramblin
umbrellas prevent the inevitable for a minute

cant help but think it:
threads Rilke knit

Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror.
Just keep going. No feeling is final.

...


just smiling through it.

poema/3

grace in small things
biking as transportation
smiling
"i'm thinking about you"
"how are you"
letters written, stamped, mailed
social activists, humble and strong, propelled by hope, love, people and coffee
clothes closeted and drawered... a clean room
nag champa lull
open windows, fresh breeze
new words, language creation, discourse expansion
inclusion, safety, affirmation
kisses
phone calls with good news
dinner invitations
"it is good to see you"
catching up with parents
learning that falling is okay
breathing, breathing deeply
doing wash
knowing, practicing: the sink is a dish
wash the dishes when you wash the dishes
seeing the moon through the bedroom window
poets, prophets, pariahs
ritual and change

fingers grasp on the handle as my arm
runs circular motions of physical purpose
winding same track same pattern of speed
gravity requires push and release
you will be pulled in the process
and let go for the rest

patience is knowledge soled with humility
durable and barefoot walking for miles
in search of those who do not yet feel
transience
for they do not see the sun every morning
day ebb night flow day
day ebb night flow day

gravity requires push and release
trees
water will be pulled up in the process
and let go through leaves, rains
pains of natural cycles

patience is knowledge soled with humility
sitting back to a tree trunk
drunk on your own breath
following your bliss
homage to the core life source your

fingers grasp the handle as your arm
runs circular motions of physical purpose
ritual is more than repetition
belief is more than tradition
faith is more than religion

body in motion a tree in the ocean
grows in its own way

poema/1

hope
springs people out of the woodwork
bobbing like birds beaks
in dirt for food to sustain the mood

hope
floats like sun through fog
cannot snatch grab it with
even the holiest hands
palms kissing
God what is missing
thoughts thanksgivings
at last
spring and gray is cause for gratitude
under sunrays
eyes sparkle the whole day in new light

hope
walks in the wrinkles of time
tis sweet to not see its footsteps
but to know it is within you as you go

poem/17

the swerve of her curve
limns a depth of valleys to learn
years of trust to earn
cardiovascular cartographer
you can not
go to school for this

when her kiss makes you miss
the logical steps up the stairs of yr mind
rewind and tumble down
do not attempt to move up and round
there is no attic nor higher ground
only the bliss
in the moment you are found

swirling like clear mountain streams
over rocks of round dreams
worn smooth under sunlight beams
ribbons of diamonds gleam

you can not
go to school for this

when the diamonds catch
the glimmer in your eye
know better than to pry from
that which you espy
sunlight dances on water faster
than the hands abilities to master

says the cardiovascular
cartographer
this land needs explorers
though to have and not hold
yes, even still, i am home

poem/16 not really poem

where in the waldo carmen sandiego world is my toothbrush? where?
how is it now past 2 am already?
why are messages, calls, ribbons of affection perpetually unrequited?
why do i feel compelled to give like i will never scrape a bottom?
why do i not remember ... or ... daily? and their beauty, strength, love and grace upon my life
how can i nourish an attitude of gratitude
how can i explain to the professor that i am not ready nor is the assignment for tomorrow

meditating on the peace i can feel
genuinely inviting it into my life
i'm hungry
i still want to brush my teeth
the sink is a dish
Shu tells me i should learn Chinese
i feel better after cleaning
a cluttered room is a cluttered mind

trying to seek joy in what
who, where, how i have and am
present moment wonderful moment
kneading through the needs
so much to be reading
whatever
this moment is temporary
so is this year
yet still a piece of the puzzle

can this be qualified as poem?
probably not, but it is my excuse to be committed to something
daily
writing
daily
writing and doing it daily
seed planting, branch sprouting
someday it will be spring
and life will ring from open bird beaks
and peaks of hills with flowers

--"not the flowers, please, just shut up"
-"okay, goodnight, i love you."
--"goodnight, i love your crazy ass"

poem/15b

if headaches had tools
like paint brushes
Guernica would be strewn
bittersweetly, after the effect
from the ends of the scrolls of my mind
i have been her kind
to let the delusion unwind
and plant feet on the street
to later visit and eat like sheets of
backlava sweets

dear this one is on me
these old bones sigh
and take a seat on the bench bus stop
meet me or do not entreat me
just greet me with dignity

Guernica was war
i swore to be peaceful
so i
blow bubbles of trouble
ghosts and horses out from these courses
of memory
bittersweet, after the effect
hindsight, clarity in the
street light
return home
eat sweetly and go anyway but meekly
in this life

poem/14

the air that remains in the lungs
the last low bit
stubbornly hangs on
arms crossed, humphing that
the bottom is something
inviting "depth" as a euphemism

the fool forgets to breathe
and chokes stale
you with eyes are meant to rise
pick life up in pieces with fingers
these pieces easily slide through

hold on to the depth
it will only get darker
damp and clammier
to surrender is not to lose
but to choose risk, hope
in new eyes, wonder, surpise

poem/13

its been one of those days
that nudge me into the slippers of God
humility bows to grace
at the edge of the bed
at the days end the bones rest
to live again
i let go my guess
and walk softly

poem/12

(this is rambling idiocy not a poem)


reading posts from a year ago
seems to locate me square one
lost, at times, lonely
confused
and curious how to stretch
myself beyond comfort into experience

what changes?
everything and nothing
generalizations swoop
and a head splits
when the fissures in winter
pull farther apart
justification: they will rescind
when the chill wind dies down
and such and such happens
and i do this
and go here
and make the most out of
and forgive and pray and humble
myself into one interconnected
human who used to believe in a resurrected
man
and now
my heart beat's a shout
every hour devout serenity
and now
courage
and then
wisdom
and the twelve steps is not vertical
its circular, continuum
and not in a vacuum

still i stand on square one
one one one one one
chance, love, world, hope, life

dont read this
do not
it is babble
there is no enlightenment
just a rocky ramble down the mountain
burning feet and freezing hands
the body wants to understand
and walk and talk and stride
along a ride like a boomerang
leaving knowing
i will return home
home is me with you
it is what it is
that you eschew
the bird that never flew
the one that sat in the nest
whose squabble would not rest
and wings had to test
every wind, way, branch and feather

and i am her kind
ha
perched on the line
pecking a border design
just before i find
a way to leave the
square one mind

poem/12

borrowed from Rilke:

SONNETS TO ORPHEUS, PART ONE, IV

You who let yourselves feel: enter the breathing
that is more than your own.
Let it brush your cheeks
as it divides and rejoins behind you.

Blessed ones, whole ones,
you where the heart begins:
You are the bow that shoots the arrows
and you are the target.

Fear not the pain. Let its weight fall back
into the earth;
for heavy are the mountains, heavy the seas.

The trees you planted in childhood have grown
too heavy. You cannot bring them along.
Give yourselves to the air, to what you cannot hold.

http://myinneredge.wordpress.com/category/rilke/

poem/11

words are puzzle pieces
a box opened on a table scattered
dull cardboard backs and
color clues, edge pieces too

attempts at coherency
legitimacy
fantasy
gutsy
try
putting this piece with this
word next to this word
period, done.
can a puzzle be won?

play games with words until
there is no beginning
no end
life spirals and you are fool
to think all the same pieces will
still be in the box next time

poem/10

where do words come from
where is the well
and how can i get the buckets
to stop dropping down

i say too much because
i am afraid to not
as result, i self-tie
myself to knots

if only the rope would
knot
the length stop
short of the water source

the well would lay
still
and the rope would reach
till
it could
and i would no longer
be tangled in diction
wrestling with lexicon

no bucket down
just silent sirenity

poem/9

we are not machines
sterling and practical

we are human and bending
along the arc
cracking like dry plaster along the day
and still, foaming like soapy oceans
blind in the search for power
gazing at the sun in wonder
to accept with serenity what cannot be changed
living with courage to break by dropping
yes, go on and let this light in
this fresh air pour into your lungs
this sun absorb into your iris
burn like coal the impurity from yr needs

bend and break and feel the life flow
from the fissures
these veins
that don’t end in me
but in the unanimous blood
of those who struggle for life,
love*,
love
rise burning
this is you facing the day alive
beating and broken open
to the greatest source
yourself

poem a day/8

bake and break bread
together in Janu, damn you
cold winter weather
yet you turn this skin stronger
and the heart beat harder
for longer sun days
this heart prays in beats

daily streets are lessons
walk and fall and get up by choice
the sidewalk doesnt end it swerves
and serves a didactic learning curve
if yr ears bend humble, and yr eyes stumble
open
channels of hope bubble
through veins blue to useful
and yr heart starts to recreate
a thought to not berate the cold
feel the gold as eyes say hello

as you go through the day
into the night
treat yrself kind and rewind memories
while casting a refined light
through your tenacity

how does the present moment sound
echoes of gratitude
ripple belief to attitude
now and here
pray in beats
break bread and feast

poem a day/7

dust on the desk
rust round the heart
clean a cluttered room
tis a good start

poem a day/6

'america, i'm putting my queer shoulder' to the wheel
as a fall off of a bike
smash a sigg in half and skin scrape
declining the car ride
whatever i said equated useless
this is a banal confessional
warning
this is a waste of your time

i do not know what to believe
when i heed the heart
i do not know what to trust
when the best intentions bust

tack one up for another smother
of love like butter over bread
its smooth but it can kill you
if you engorge

and it is quite possible
i have died



from 'America' by Allen Ginsburg

poem a day/5

literally cannot write anything

i choose Rumi to fill the gap



My Worst Habit

"My worst habit is I get so tired of winter
I become a torture to those I'm with.

If you're not here, nothing grows.
I lack clarity. My words
tangle and knot up.

How to cure bad water? Send it back to the river.
How to cure bad habits? Send me back to you.

When water gets caught in the habitual whirlpools,
dig a way out through the bottom
to the ocean. There is a secret medicine
given only to those who hurt so hard
they can't hope.

The hopers would feel slighted if they knew.

Look as long as you can at the friend you love,
no matter whether that friend is moving away from you
or coming back to you."

poem a day/4

(poem a day/4)

i don't know what to do
i don't know who to believe
i don't know if to send money
i don't know how you are
i don't know the hunger
i don't know the added strife
i don't know the last time you laughed

this is a confession
not a poem


my heart a gong, the beat a deep song
Ayiti Sere nan ke'm toujou

poem a day/3

thousands dead photos over twitter
the mess melange deluge
Petit a petit l'oasieu fait sonid
little by little the bird makes its nest

until an earthquake
until an earthquake

what happens when there is no nest
because there is no tree
because there is no soil

thin limbs can carry so many children
before snapping

oh my god years of debt cooperating corruption
complexity (history-economics-politics)
not understood through the reference line
"haiti, the poorest country in the western hemisphere"
why do you think that is
the imported pigs and USAID white rice
driving down prices for decades
farmers forced off years of habit ritual work pride
land country soil trees homes schools streets

until an earthquake
until an earthqaue

Ayiti Cheri, m pa janm bliye
Dear Haiti, i never forget

tap tap, sweat, little mopeds to the mountains
sweat and dust
and unrefined stamina
Haiti Haiti Haiti Haiti
saying is praying and
i am on my knees
remembering Jose, Ansito, Gabie, Jovenel, Vivianne, Andre, Dadou, Liaute, Antonia, KC, Mama, Anita, Coleen,
mwen sonje ou
mwen renmen ou
delicate language may we wrap ourselves in
honor respect and feed on fresh mangoes

until an earthquake
until an earthquake

radical changes: the killing of haitian pigs
and the replacement of american pigs
spelled catastrophe before the letters could be written
white rice has no nutritional value

chains of debt from oppressive rulers
more than 90% walked over by the feet of the 10%
controlled even in their dreams by the arm of the elite

and the american dragon has blown its fire too
while shaking hands with the IMF and World Bank in the back room
drinking rum
so good
lets forget about all the people and sail away wherever
and keep these dirty secrets smudged in our back pocket

until an earthquake
until an earthquake


do you know what degaje (de-ga-zhay) means?
degaje - Haitian Kreyol for "make do"
how do the hungry make do with charcoal buried in earthqauke

no land, 98% deforested country
fire, water, protein precious
because why
this is not a self-made poor
chains on most are forced
go to the city to sell what you can and try to make it

poverty beyond the Haitian people's control

until an earthquake
until an earthquake

do not forget what a small group of committed people can accomplish
in suits, in lighted rooms, on international phones,
with literacy and greater life expectancies

the cost of wealth is death
the cost of wealth is life

profit by extortion, dispossession
reduces homes to slums
trees to charcoal
women and kids to submissive
i am ready to scream
global economic, international trade laws
debt cancellation stipulated with infinity clauses

until an earthquake
until an earthquake

wake up
wake up
no wonder i yell and kick my sleep
this is a nightmare
Haiti in the Caribbean, cruise around paradise
right, go on enjoy the ignorance, bask in stereotypes and justifications
stay safe and don't ask questions
keep drinking and soon we'll be in the DR
"where its safer"

and to all the garbled up shit on the walls i say

fuck you misrepresenting shrinking media
fuck you self-centered tourists
fuck you lies, corruption, deceit, slavery, sex slavery
fuck you gnawing poverty, death from diarrhea

before the earthquake
beyond the earthquake

with genuine support without strings attached
may struggle be met with resilience
may ability to reach deeply and heal be practiced
may mistakes, greed and injustice never be overlooked or dismissed
may it not take another earthquake to peel back these layers




Summer 2008 I worked and lived with an incredible Haitian family and made strong lasting relationships with several men and women from Cap Haitien (largest city in Northern Haiti). I worked with Sonje Ayiti (www.sonjeayiti.com) on several projects rooted in sustainable rural community development. At this time of crisis, if you are able to donate any funds, please visit the Sonje Ayiti website and contribute online or with check: PO BOX 83/ Grayson, GA 30017-0002.

Poem a day/2

11 Enero- Dos Mil Diez

i want to take it back
like peeling off wallpaper
do over
scrape, sand, prime
paint on a renewed blank canvas

the stupid mouth is an open whole
looking for diggers

gaping, excuses lunge out
no, it is not what you think
but, if you...
and then i think
hey past hey
cant make you go away
i've no mode to erode fossil bones
there is no room to redo
i am just a soft hearted fool
with good intentions that leave my hands quicker
than crumbs

to work on me is one thing
i'm human remember
there is distance in the space between*
and, so
to she who was never her, i cannot
and i dont even have
no wall paper
no money to buy paint
no time
and you no desire to even know
i rearranged
the plums and vines to a warm clementine
color illuminated by sunshine
a sunrise is hope
without hope the world shivers petrified

i want to take it back
the way the morning does sunrise
and sand the long salt tide
the way night invites the moonlight
it is two way reciprocity



*lyric from "Telling Stories" by Tracy Chapman

poem a day/1

10 janvier 2010

water would freeze in this room

write out directions with a spoon
carve curves of letters into
the soft places of the brain where
hearts once walked

one line funny jokes of all
your lovers, messages
as for me
i cannot run as fast as you
an asthma, some crutch, wont let me keep up

go on and clean up your
cold room
barefeet on the knots
both flat from years of wear
laugh and command like sisters
what the fuck are we doing
keep laughing
the nerves sneek out like
butterflies from cocoons
(beautiful release)
why is flight destiny?
it is innate to leave
whether or not you plan on returning
the path is made by walking
directions through air must be given
by someone with experience
yet on the ground its the sound
of your own heart pumping its way around the stumps
and layered wet leaves fallen
don't let gravity pull you down like that
my sisters

walk to understand
scrapes scars burns and callouses
strengthen the tissue
and provide the "i know what you mean"
and so the heart softens the mind space

that when you burst and fly
because to go and do is hardwired destiny
i know you know we have been walking
revealing directions with
spoons
the carves of curves of letters

spell love, yeah i love you mujer