Albuquerque or bust

As if running could feed me.

Pretend you have arms

That could hold me.


I can’t be the only one

watching  days

like stones skipping

reaching but not aware of any shore.

Pressing naked bodies against


Afraid of never feeling

the way we desire to feel love.

I’m not the only one who doesn’t care about their job

Slowly losing sight with nothing to hold on to.

No sinking leading

No lost self trying to be found

No distant solar system calling

November’s long shadows

mingle with leaves

no rumbling under ground.



What has always been.

Returning hunger

Need for silence

Dirt beneath finger nails

Skin pressed against skin

Night skies.





It’s all dirt.





All words,
to hold
in place.

in street lights.
Sun,                                                                                                                                                                                                                          reflected,
on windows
San Francisco gold.

Pulled clouds
and dirt
This path could be anywhere
but here
it’s sunrise
in Albuquerque

August 7
99 degrees in Albuquerque today.
Skin feels like clothing.
Cicadas and crickets….
This is a summit with out a lover
where air gets thick and spacious
and humanness drives my interactions.
Old jeans and cut up shirts with no bra
there is a beauty growing thru me
and I can’t imagine loving any home more
than this one.
With its soft edges and 400 sq feet,
wood floors and neighbours who shuffle around
in the drive way drunk during the night.
I sit at my desk alone, next to the over grown aloe plant
curtain half pulled to let in wind.
Shadows and nostalgia for what is…
Remembering for the future
the fan blows what the wind can’t carry
Erased from your mind
I begin to wonder if muse is simply something
I need.
Why else these reoccuring thoughts of how
I could have loved you?
Try to bring edges to a flame.
Light casting shadow
the heat and mystery consumed
like stars consumed by sky
ravenous at times.

Like magic

It all disappears.

Heart buoyant

Mind clear

Appetite tended.

This is the summer

of your father visiting after 13 years.

We eat frozen bananas…… our skin

getting darker by the day.

This is the season after


you in the studio throwing clay

I learn circus arts

Our hearts repaired

in a studio aprartment in the “student ghetto”.

Stronger together

I find voice, go back to school,

and feel safe for the first time.

We feel safe for the first time.

There is talk of a “toxic world” outside.

We ride our bikes with dragonflies and humming birds,

go to more yoga classes than we can count,

and open all our windows and doors

to the abundance, planes flying overhead,

one flower growing in the garden, and






more .

Seems to me this pain that lies within my ribs

has become a habit.


a drug


always wanting more…..shaking



more and more insecure.


some idea of wound into my veins

and a belief in

the image that won’t crumble…..

yet proves beguiling.

If I could plunge my hand

into my chest and remove this discomfort I would.

I’m powerless

left to accept who I am,

“let go” of who I ought to be,

and chill the fuck out.

Don’t close down.

Break another chair.

Eat melon, spit out the seeds

and vibrate my way into

boldness of heart

and relief……

through matter.

My neighbour is slowly disintegrating.

I had an argument with God this morning

about my own…

And this fucking fear that pushes shame

into all of my actions…..

I’m bored with these human emotions….

The riddles wound into my DNA

that can take a life time to unwind.

I just want to Love with out the pain

of insecurities and longing.

Love thru the nature of knowing self

and reaching out to other.

Let love have me


clutching the red chair beside the garage

begging Kari to let me smash it

as she talks about grocery shopping

with her lover

tears in my eyes….

I know

there is



through these



that looks


like the images

in my mind.

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