at some point i dissolved awake. at some point it finally all made sense. sitting here on this tiny wooden swing outside this house. this magic house. this healing house. i knew all at once and all at last that i knew nothing at all. my mom whispered slowly and sweetly as she passed out the door…she said write your story. she said write your story. she said feel the june bugs littering the backyard, remember the laughter pounding off the sculpture of this grass. remember this weeping willow and the secret magic is holds, will always hold. there are no goodbyes in the world. just transformations and lost and founds and hidings and secrets and mysteries. things uncovered, things revealed, things mystical and senseless. i’m going to australia to write this story. i cannot tell it here, it is the story that is inside of me that has been writing itself since the beginning of tie. the story that moves through me and with me and to the end of my days will never be finished. it  is the moment and the mystery and the movement of the stars. it is the way this backyard looks. 


i wish you earth and birth and all things weightless and full of gravity. i wish you love and luck and rebellion. i wish you bright fiery days where the sun slips under your shirt and i wish you dark and stormy nights where your shoe laves tie themselves backwards. i’ll miss your birthdays, your days of horrible disfiguration, the heartbreak and attack of month after month of confusion, delusion and creation. i wish you art. i wish you fire. i wish you passion. i wish your tree house would stand forever, withstanding the magic of the night sky and the fire of the rainbow clouds. iw ish you endless childhood. i wish you a small eternity with which to make your own wishes on. i wish i could watch you grow up, silently, sweetly and with only the best parts removed. i wish i could take the swing with me, my box of memories and i wish i could take them out and stare at them.


the late night peanut butter filled oreos and the time solomon mason scaled the back wall of my house and let himself in by the roof door to coe see me at 3am. the teenage rebellion and how you somehow survive it. don’t smother your kids, don’t take that fire out from underneath them- that is the only thing that fuels our humanity and wil keep us safe when we have forgotten our truth. remember and remember and forte. dissolve and dream and feel the soul of solid walls bouncing you back and forth like a great lightbulb. write without any expectation. write with abandon. love with ferocity. dance with your whole heart in your hands. smile with your skin folded under your eyes. dedicate yourself to a lifetime of love.


just mid morning sun and rain, a circus in your brain and all the words that no longer belong to you

that want to want

that need to loosen themselves out on the banks of the shore

on the cusp of your creation

on the curt-tails of your cobwebbed curtains.


i didn’t watch the sunrise, but we felt it, hankering over the house, glowing with a suffused glow, sputtering out glowing star juice, just dappled enough to destroy all remnants of night fear. i can feel the twists of spine and turpentine the way this tree gravitates over our porch. i can feel the swell of secret bird song and the sound of aching sunrise leaves lingering over our star-strewn blanket of grass. i can feel and i can peel away the layers that leave me lonely and lustful. full of the force of time and space. full of of the fumbling hands of grace. i am lonely with my love of the planet.  

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