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)
and here the ice rattles towards me like a promise. here the tree sparkles its ancient eyes like flecks of gold and silver hulking away from the branch. and here i see you again. and here i see you again. and here the minutes that live inside of my eyes pass like endless webs – like a melody in reverse, back again, back again, the words akimbo, like soft soldiers looking for a war. and here i break towards a new day, towards an endless horizon; here your eyes are like a patchwork of ash and curled nevers; stuck inside the sideways partitions between seats in a row; here you lie inside the little theatre of my heart, forever playing scenes we’ll never write
but the delivery of these half-imagined lines still kills me
DYFS in the dining room. whoever thought my life would get here? whoever thought i would be inside of these kinds of days? whoever thought my life would unfold like this – a bag of marbles and a rolling set of ramps and bridges — i submerge myself in the bathtub, all the way under the water, i know not how this day arrived on my doorstep // i peel back my curtains, i know not what i am supposed to do, but place one foot in front of another forever and ever, thanking each day for each splay of beautiful moments, thanking the light inside Jamie’s eyes for still glowing, thanking my feet for knowing how to walk, feeling my skin getting thicker every year, every day, every crisis / there is always more life coming for you, and there is always more strength within you you haven’t met yet /
i pray to keep you safe, little one, i pray you will not be damaged, you will know wholeness, you will not be afraid, you will not cower, you will not flinch upon approach, i pray you will stay alight through the dark night and all the flames ahead
three years at the same seat, the same pearled purple and green smashes across the glass as the cars wheel by, the midnight glow of horns and guitar strings, some harmonica no one has learned how to stop playing, some amount of neon that always glows — bliss game and a furrow of brows getting older, getting wiser, getting deeper in the depth; in the art of the world flowing by — you tell us you’ve written something new, you curl your brilliance through a voice pipe, out through the parade of bones dancing in the right order, through the finger army of musical esplanade — we clap, it is the only feeble jungle we know how to enter — we know not how to trace the elegant animal from the line of brilliance to the fuse of firelight and kindling, we see only the flame, we eat only light – all evening long we soak in each other’s fever dreams ; we fill up each other’s sutures with imagined melodies ; a wish for an unending splash of fleeting light – the sparkle puddle electrified in the misty autumn pavement rain – the glow of 1am filling the gutters with a gulp of dreamtime nightflesh : sputters and splatters of all the condesencing condensation of the consideration of conspiracy, coalescence and consciousness;; we here keep hearing, keep listening, keep creating long after the night has turned to morning, long after the clock tells us to tuck in for the night; we here keep hearing each other; keep making in the morning light
to many more years of making, and letting the night turn to morning, and morning turn in to new dawns, new dreams, new songs
I do it to make my heart full ; to make the empty spaces full of light / i do it because i can’t fight the love i have for it – because i feel like a whole person when I’m lost in the rapture of the stage / of movement / of colored lights and measured notes / to feel an organ breathing – a dozen people breathing in time, sculpting over a ball of air ; listening to the sound of the universe, responding with something to say, creating in the air – in the space between air and word and intention and retention and tension of musculature and heart ;; i do it because i ache to do it
the days turned in to battered rainfall, your life kept hiding in pattered wings, fluttering about, we’re all talking to butterflies now, my dear ryan.
your heart peels around mine like a curtain, we make promises to the way humidity feels on our skin, i curl backwards through the trees, the hunger for the sun and season holds fast on the leaves;; we take the reprieve of heat, we bottle it, we keep it tucked in our front pocket, we keep all the other pockets free for leaves and acorn caps and droppings of the season coming slowly towards us.
i call towards creation, i wait in the kitchen for it to hurricane over to me – i inspire myself with the movement of my heart towards words laced in love, i follow myself towards something somewhere that can teach me how to know remember how to let go, to find the answer to the questions of the current unfolding ;; of curious and curiouser – of the moments that don’t seem to make sense at all, at the frustration that boils like a furnace — i try to find the silver lining, to remember to flip the world on its head and shake up the snow globe, let it rain plastic trapped bits of white – i try to remember to flip myself, stop thinking of myself, look at the upside down roots of the tree, find an answer that i can live with ;; i wonder whether i’m creating it out of thin air, or if its sitting there in plain sight and my eyes are too weak and narrow to see it yet, curling into the bark – a few hieroglyphs of untranslated answers — i wonder how it all works – me and the sea and the trees looking back / i wonder how i work; my messy brain that keeps misfiring or re-hiring the old tired managers to come send the old foggy neurons down the wrong paths (the paths of least resistance, those comfy, soggy brain paths) ;; i amaze myself at how easily i forget all the ‘wise’ things i think i know at my clearest moments ;; i amaze myself at how easily emotion rips through the new brain paths i try to forge – a little icepick in my hand and a wall of solid brick in front of me // i keep trying, i will keep trying, i keep trying to stay more and more aware, conscious – light that brain up without fear; a glowing lantern leading the way, healing the fray, resounding towards the new day
For my big-hearted Ryan ;
i woke up this morning hoping this was all some horrible dream; My thoughts spiral in-and-out, it’s turtles all the way down, for sure — it comes and goes in waves — I can’t do anything without thinking of you; I can’t stare into the silence without feeling like a zombie ; everything I do is a momentary band-aid ; every distraction only lasts for a brief moment ; I keep hearing your laugh in my head
River warrior; smile-keeper , you were always a fire, always a lion, always full of grace and laughter, generosity and heart; the first night you met me you asked me to marry you; // you were in the room when i found out i was pregnant and waiting for us at home when we got back from the hospital with baby jamie (having fully cleaned our house while we were gone), you were there the night i left jeff; the highest highs and the lowest lows, and always with such kindness and openness ; you were my son’s uncle, his love ; i will miss your smile, your poetry, the love and faith you greeted everyone with, your lack of judgment, your mischief, your bravery, your fight, your spirit
I don’t really understand / i don’t feel motivated by your death yet – i feel senseless and entirely lost for meaning
I pulled the beautiful journal you gave me for my birthday some years ago off the shelf…I’ve never written in it – it was too beautiful…but now the empty pages feel like a promise i should keep…i’ll try to fill them up – i’ll try to keep creating, i’ll try to feel the beautiful day around me and not think about how much you would love it, i’ll try to keep my chin up, i’ll try to see what you saw, i’ll try to find you in the falling leaves, i’ll try to not give in to despair, you were always aglow, always bright enough to keep fighting through ; i’ll try to keep breathing and finding the light…but i don’t understand yet. i don’t understand at all. and i miss you. and i love you very much // i’m not ready for this week. for the facebook posts and the funeral proceedings and the horrible conversation we’ll have to have with jamie // but one minute at a time. one foot in front of the other. one breath then another. i’ll try to turn your laughter in the back of my head into my own. i’ll try, i’ll keep trying. i’ll try to be alive for you, because i know how grateful you were to have to your life. to have your life back. to have had life at all.
curtain-high-tailed riptide away from here;; rip / sigh / away from me // fill up all the edges with all the love you have ever been given and give it back
August 1st and it’s always your day ;; you’re always in the sparkle green leaves and shooting streaks of twilight at the end of the day / you’re in everyday baby girl ; just beyond the root of the Queen Anne’s lace ; you are everlong; a dream ; an 18 year old beauty queen forever ; into eternity and back again ;; you are love, and love never dies ;; you are light, and light never shies away from the shadows // your memory is high art; our ability to still be alive – a blessing ;; you always remind me to stay alive on this day, to be grateful for my breath, for my still beating heart, for the road still unwinding // we are always grateful to you for waking us up, we are always missing you, we are always trying to shadow and reflect just a drop of the endless chasm of love you were able to spill into the world / we are always trying to be love, the way that you perpetually are
Deep bellied, full laughs; I’ll try to do them for you today and every day of my little life
When I think of you I smile; I feel no fear; I feel no desire to drag my feet through life; I feel the urge to dive into the deep end with reckless abandon;; thank you for that
I will be honest. I will not shame myself. I will not be afraid to admit that I am afraid. I will not let my own fear capsize me, hold me down; but i will let it inform me and move me and lit a fire under myself. i will approach the ever changing future with an open mind and an open heart and i will not presume to know that i know anything or that i should know anything or that i need know anything. i will be humble, i will try to be humble. i will be brave in the face of a strange world and a strange life. i am ravaging my own heart like a vulture and i am being a brave band of cells marching towards the summer horizon. july is tipping around me like a ferris wheel and all i know is the air conditioned peace of laughter inside trenton social and the love i have for creating and creators. i know not the haze of chlorine in my hair or the din of 7 o’clock woods drenched in fading light. i have not met the summer by her name yet, i am still twirling around this thing i love to do. and i am grateful for it. i am grateful to be able to do what i love to do. and to meet fellow strange people that have love in their hearts for strange things. let me keep twirling, just a little longer — i have more love than i know what to do with, and more spins to spin out of, and more worlds to build with my ears. let me build this life for myself, maybe this is what i should follow.
Gulp in the spring shine in like medicine it’s the only good pill there is ; drive with the windows down ; bike across the dirt path ; Hunger yourself towards the hollow of the sky ; the convex convolution of our reality ; the convention of complexly confusing the horizon for the edge , Let the world spin madly on
And here – this rust mud puddle of a river floating me down / And here, the swelling fingers and toes of the new green leaves still may-colored and honeysuckled / and here my eyes a new ocean / and here the hum of the river, the trill of a bird, the soft hummingbird song of a neighbor’s dog, and here the brash bravery of the flowers perching themselves along the bank, and here the heron, wide and ageless, powering his angling flaps low above the water
I’ll write myself into a disguise / you’ll know where i am / you can find me with your eyes closed
I spotted a Cardinal in the branches ; fire-organ, special, burrowed ; I could not catch him fast enough ;; of course, you already knew that, of course
The curvature of roots ; the ecstasy of blossoming ; the mindless dandelion of wish ; the violence of wind through the atmosphere; The deafening mix of warmth and breeze ; the rapture of daylight spreading ; the hurricane of waking up
But have you seen 6 o’clock may light / do you know what my heart feels like when it thumps against the wind / Am I anything other than the Spring ; does anyone know anything real other than this jubilation ; than the delirium of Sun warmth and soil smell and what the world really is ; of what life really is :: and all the shadows surrendering from all the other surreptitious seasons ; all the false days fading in the may light / All the mayflies casting ringlets in the river / nothing else mattering but this, but matter moving and dancing :: dancing, you imbecile, the point of life to dance ; loving, you idiot, the point of life to love ; To live, goddammit, all the geese yelling at me to live // And the blossoms – each one more ingenious than the next // and sight: a fever to behold
Life is the courage to breathe which breeds the courage to feel which curls the fear of breathing to the burned ashes to the edges of visible sight ; of visible light
Loving hard as fuck you tell me ;
the edges of the big bang still visible on the horizon, like a capsized circimsition of the derision of the decision to exist here, now, in this crumbled architecture of a why
the underside of the backside of the backbone of visible light still virtual on the tip of my tongue, on the lip of my lungs
the hungry reminsence of my soul on my body