the resting place of the air

i, savage rapture of my insides pulling against one another — i reach towards the sun, the sun pearls her little eyelashes back at me ;; i raid my memory for all the sweetest bits, the sticky glue to piece myself back together — i peel through every word and imagine it without you, my heart breaks at every small suture; i pull myself apart, i weave myself back together again

I, grown – feel my little life spinning again, feel like my heart has powers i’ve always waited to grow in to – i feel a silent blue light, a permanence of confidence, an unshakeable serenity — i feel i have all the time in the world, little youth bird, little capturer of light and words — i feel the resting place of the air – filled with words and wishes, i know how deeply i need the air and i know not why the universe spins this compass, peels me into the strange directions — i feel the universe in my every thought, it’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay, i am trusting, or trying to, i am resisting, or trying to, i am releasing, or trying to

I love him terribly, terribly // my eyes fill with tears, i love him terribly

Strength is not devoid of pain, of attachment, of fear // love, an endless everything

I cannot loose myself from your sweetest caress, your confident affirmations, your presence and your care, the shelter of your body, your radiant joy, the peals of laughter, the courage and comfort – i love you terribly  

 

We are messy bundles of mistakes we humans, we try and try again, we fail, we grow, we learn, we shape, we fail again, we roll downhill and pick up steam and turn into a better self, if we’re lucky. I want to be a better self, no matter how many times i feel i am cooked – no one is ever cooked, no one is ever anything more than a spinning ball — it helps when i fail // i need to remember to remember to let go endlessly, to need less, to love more freely, with patience and forgiveness for myself, and patience and forgiveness for others — not to never mess up, but to always apologize and learn, always be reaching towards my higher self, even though oftentimes the growth spins round in circles, knocks you off and peels you back up again – the path is not linear, growth is not easy, failing is normal, trying again is brave

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we carry each other

raucous the energy; raucous the laughter — the play of the apostrophe of sound, the surly ribbon of action driving us onto the boards – the wagon wheels bouncing under the weight of our pounce, our reticence, our memory pulled in to high gear, the whole organic beast fumbling towards itself;; the summer night peeling against the air – the crickets wandering in and out of the play itself, the wilderness of the stars hunting for us, the crackle and pop of the lights flushing in from the side — the twist and tunnel of movement capturing sound — the native voices funneling through the fingertips — let the band play on, let the band play on —

my whole heart feels visceral inside of my chest, the gratitude – a long step into the darkness, the friendship solidifying, crystalizing – we carry each other, we carry each other – we’ve got each other. we have no fear.

always unfurled

the gripping light – the curvature of rain, always the sculptural feeling of being alive — always the pools of light you find to cup in your tender hands// your burned skin, your bruised thighs, the nationhood of your hair;; the failure of the summer light pooling at the sound of fireworks — the little black den of another theatre, another philadelphia street, a scattered, torn apart city tucked away by shadow and light — the copy of the copy;; the labyrinth– summer heat and the piles of july standing on top of one another – craning towards the sun;; perhaps a perhaps-hand, always a maybe-limb ;; and here another bundle of words wrapped tightly together with string, twine, and the curl of time away from your fingers — always a curl, always unfurling, always unfurled

how big and how small all at once

I gaze into this moment; preschool graduation; their little voices laughing, giggling ; all a-splendor in the june grass and the splay of sprinkler spray // the green leaves, the sunlight streaming through — the patches of rainbow flecks from the umbrella;; I am astonished and humbled and amazed that I have mothered my son to this moment — that my son has grown to this moment // he calls his classmates by their name raucously – he runs on strong galloping feet; he gasps as he dunks his head into the wild sprinkler; he signs his name on the sign-in board on the white concrete wall with the sturdy yellow pencil ;; he has come to know this place – perhaps the first time a place has meant something to him in this way;;  I recognize this as the first of many separations in his life — one so large for such a little life — I recognize the strange gasping at loss in his eyes ;; I wish that I could bear the brunt of it for him – I know that I must not — he carries so much in his little body, on this big day;; this last day of school, this first day of summer ;; this calling out to the cackling world — he splays his hands into a field of rocks ; chimes in to a cheer if he does not understand yet ; he holds his mouth towards mimicking the crowd that is just one year older than him (a huge difference) ;; he stores in his teacher a reverence only the first teacher can possibly have ; he gallops towards the table of unicorn-colored cupcakes  ;; he knows not how to peel the wax paper off of it – but he does know how to stuff it in his mouth and speak with a mouth full of sunshine ;; I praise the small victories in my head ; the ability to hold his backpack on his own two shoulders ; to gather his things ; to wish his friends goodbye ; I know not how we arrived at this place from the sunny morning on which he was born ; i sit astonished at this small milestones and shutter to understand how I will approach all the many more I must greet — I take myself in too — myself as a young mother ; I see myself from a bird’s eye view ; see the youth in my skin; the burnt color of the season starting to change ;; I try to hold the weight of Jamie in my arms and memorize it ; how much space he takes up ; how little his body is still , and how big at the same time ;; this is an endless game with which parents play, is it not? How big and how small all at once? both sides of the time spectrum meeting each other at all moments — you looking from the beginning and you looking from that ever-present end at the singular and ever-folding moment before you

in the always space

i sit and hear their voices, again and again, and for the last time, again // i feel the rage of this green little room, the pulsing presence of the stage, the fullness of heart that everyone traces in steps around a tiny little theatre // i remain grateful for every experience, every last word, every first syllable, every gesture towards something;; and here the cataclysm of sword-edged wood climbs towards the sky, prison bars words away from you — and here the light splashes and pools of darkness capture these tiny song monologues, these vignettes; these emotional explosions;; this play a beautifully rendered one i am grateful to have been a part of

and here again; the rubberized canyon – the vault between sustenance and reticence – here the words turn towards their affectation, towards the pronunciation in the mouth, towards the impulse to intuition, to the firmament of reaction ;; here the ben franklin bridge curls sideways across the scope of the river- pulses under the valley of the clouds and leads me towards my theatre tucked away in a pile of old red bricks, thick with history, thin with fatigue, baked to the crust with power and beauty. here my words resound like a bouncing ball freakishly defying gravity — here the seats slide upwards on a rake and the boney structure of them all fills the empty space with beautiful cacophony. and here the peeling plaster of the rusted red brick walls catch my syllables with perfect sing-song reply. here i am grateful once again, in the always space

the heart that tears at the seams;; peels and purges itself — the heart that batters the rain, weathers the veins of the earth, peers through every open ventricle – vehicular everything;; finely tuned manner of mannerless measurements towards the manic love of living — with fresh air and fresh dirt beneath me

but you, everlastingly in front of me — the pain of the sidewalk everlastingly spreading in all directions

Of course, she says,
of course,
No other way could this possibly have ended
No other way could my heart feel the bitter taste of regret so violently

Other than you dropping the phone at the end of the line,, an endless plastic line of webbing drawing all of the fools to the table

You didn’t do anything wrong, you say; I say

I capsized first you, drawing the end of the life raft towards you like a blanket — I always knew I say;; your words tip like the finality of a star feeding itself with its own fire — the metaphors are strong here, the words are weak; the magnetic force is quantum;; neverending and pink

Of course, my heart would butterchurn and evaporate at the sound of your footsteps walking away- how could I never not always know that? Of course, my mind would splinter cell and cut all the corners ;; how could that not be laced into my DNA?

And this trauma too – will it too be laced into my DNA? Passed down the endless line? When do the chromosomes bend back in armor and fold over in rebellion- new patterns and arrangements the strongest fight there is;; when does it wash out?

topography

my insides melt like acid rain, the fire of being close to the horizon of your love like a heart attack in space — my oxygen like an every present stagnation of brittle air on caustic lungs — the folded lifetime between us getting smaller again — I cannot take this many lost lifetimes, my heart cannot bear this much battering ,; my heart flings clusters of ventricles into the cosmos, into the meteoric heart crash of another one burning up in the atmosphere;; into the radioactive pull of memories ;; the laceration that laughter makes on the atmosphere – the joy that glitters out of pancaked faces and half-guaged jokes at something jarring — an instant; the instantaneous transformation of the climate — the radical shift in the tilt in the earth’s axis when you tell me a combination of simple words ;; the way the ocean floor sinks 500 feet deeper into the earth’s crust every time I remember ,, my little old heart cant handle much more

austin, texas

the words are not what you’d think perhaps ;;

the wind rattles down the texas highway, past the blue bonnets and the highway long grass and the low-laying live oaks stubbling just past head height. the light filters through the shy little spear-leaves and shelters the cobbled grass stragglers at our feet. everything feels the lack of water. everything edges towards and away from the heat.

but the city – is it liquid; flexible; gathered at the edges and perking up at the center — it is rich, local, flavorful, pungent, spiced, metropolized, conscious-eyed and sprawling with creation. the city it is a galvanized portal to seven new realms and 3 recycled ones. the city is a map unfolded in ten hues of gold leaf, ash, soot and metal — patina and reckless abandon — to turn the rust of the south into a subterfuge for society and counter-culture

and me, i feel the sunshine on my skin for the first time in months – i forget it’s blaze and fire-tongue. i forget the way light shines through colors like platinum and endless power. i curl into cousin connection – into the courageous forever of a lifelong friendship // into comfort and endless discovery // i pound my feet into pavement and walk until my feet find my body at the end of the hours – peeling back towards the darkness of twilight gathering on empty branches and i fold my legs inwards towards the comfort of emlyn’s little house rattling in the wind. the wind rattling down bennet and 46th — keeping austin just how you’d think, perhaps — strange, unique, and all to its own, a lone star amongst a thousand others never quite like it in the night sky

air made manifest

what height, what height this light comes streaming through the window, the full-bodied pulse of the collapse of ego; the golden light of the winter day peeling through the atmosphere – the surface of my brain a foggy chapter of promises and gifts – the love i have to give like an army in my chest, ready to march — i, a small winter bottle of light and branches — sky, just let me see the sky — love, just let me feel my heart inside my body;; pumping blood, like so many fangs of the sky tilting forwards – reaching towards clouds, towards the flesh of the air made manifest in me — i, a little buzz of love;; i, a little question never knowing the answer;; i, a foolish warrior endlessly rowing ashore, towards the hope i am not forever blind

 

for a moment

they were all here for a moment; for an elapsed, shoe-string collapsed moment – pulled between two parcels of stardust in the universe – family hung like a decadent ornamentation — laughter, brotherhood — not all of us, but the ones still ready to laugh // the day clung like taffy – elongated; elegant, hazy and covered in light – twinkled words, ageless tucked prayers to the moment hung under ever dazzled evergreen — evergreen, it was evergreen; golden hued and pearlescent // i love my family, i love the memory of everything we’ve ever been crashing in to one another over and over again;; i don’t know what i have done to deserve such a family : i don’t know what i have done to deserve so many useful parts clanging against one another in harmony — i know only that i am grateful and that my life should be a love song to this gratitude i have inside — to the wonder of magic that clings to every dappled bit of atomized oxygen around me // and jamie, the little ball of laughter and light, mopped with angel hair and giggling all through the night, dousing me in kisses and perfect words ; the grace of my life, the thing i am most grateful for — thank you for this day, for all of the days that have led to this day, for the year unfolding with unbelievably beautiful wings, for graciousness, for kindness, for care, for brotherhood, and for motherhood – a merry christmas to all, and to all – dappled haziness and the magic of love and how it feels pressed against your ribcage – to all ribcages opening endlessly – if only for a moment (a small, elapsed eternity)