Monday, May 16, 2011


 an early summer morning of deeply hot sex
lying limp and sweaty on the bed staring at the ceiling while my lover fetched tea and toast
with high country choke cherry blackberry raspberry darkest purple preserves
i thought of the swallows in the mountains
the path of their flight
how i'd stand in the pasture look up to the sky get lost in their swirling dipping circles
their deep blue wings and golden bellies
i could smell the air the trees
could feel the open space in my chest
i could feel the mountains in my chest
lover brings me swallows in flight
tears streaming like a slow breeze
memories touched in my belly
made golden
made deep blue circles of light
with tea and toast
spread thick with sweet purple fruit.

Sunday, May 8, 2011


 and I don’t mix well.
I’m susceptible to its' pull out to sea
a choppy lost sea tossing me about
its fun at first 
then I crash into ragged rock beds staggering and sick

as a teen tequila would take me in a bar
land me crashed in a strange bed with a stranger man
I’d wake at dawn with no memory
No memory of the sex I had obviously had
Stomach turning tossing with bile up and out the door to hit the street 
with no idea where I  was
Where my car was
No memory of the drive

Tequila in the backseat to nowhere all night driving
Throw me thru the car window
Land me in a hosptal with a broken neck

Bring it on. Tequila don’t mess. Drink the sea swim the brine
rocks will meet me right where I’m craving impact.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

internalized #2

Will the bitterness be with me till I die? Will it engulf me? 
i’ll just take that bitter bow like everyone else I’ve known. Take my bow with a grin and a fuck you.
Take it.
I’ll try and fail try and fail
lower the bar, my expectations, again and again
Like my mother who, with only 20 years on me , is already thinking about dying. 
where is she gonna live while she dies.
That’s all that’s left to do. Where is she going to live.
Where will I live? How will I die?

40 years old feels like 40 stories high on some shaky rattling scaffolding.

My heart, hope, my life my skin cracked and vulnerable like the high desert soil.
Bitter dry.
A footprint stays for years. Years I carry the footprints.

oh the bees.

"Salvation. Appreciate life to save the world."
(Photo and caption by Hongsik Kim) photo is of many bees flying around outside the hive. the vantage point is from the ground with a fish eye lens, looking up toward the blue sky and  mid day sun which shines through their  bodies making them glow yellow.