have you found the parts of you
that have gotten away
that you’ve hid in the dry walls
and yet
can still hear traces of your neighbors
do you sit long enough in stillness
to realize how nothing about nothing matters
how your history is a memory
you can always rewrite
how you don’t have to write home
if you don’t want to
how blood
is just something that carries oxygen
and is not always a big deal
mute yourself once
and your body will learn the art
of shutting up
of growing small
for everyone but yourself
get loud once
and your body will learn the art
of always fighting back
can you go quiet
consciously?
be loud for yourself
as the biggest whisper?
say
I feel my heels and the balls of my feet
I have never stood taller than in this very moment
where the moment is just the sensation of
self pushing down
and earth pushing up
is this not all there is
at all...

look
the doctors can rip you open
create 4 peep holes
and still
remove nothing of substance
the pain
may only be multiplied
and you
have to convince yourself everyday
that it was all
with good reason
because the other option
is still
no solution
it is only
to fight yourself harder
and say
how you should have known better
when know no else does
there are some diseases
that remain mysterious
even when extracted
and tested
and verified
but still
your body remains
and maybe this is the best case scenario
that your body at the very least
remains
and it may still ask for the pain
to be killed
for heat to bring temporary relief
don’t allow yourself to go down the path
of all for not
this is a new path you carve now
one of grace
of compassion and kindness
for your desire of knowing and freedom
from bed ridden pain
and even if you

are still strapped to that...

what am I afraid of
if not my own judging mind
lay down excuse after excuse
cloak it as happiness
but remember
happiness in the rain on Broadway
parking a car in stress to land on a list
to get on a mic
and stand with the nerves
wrapped in sobriety
I’ve gotten cocky
tell them it’s not what I do anymore
like I’ve out grown growing on paper
but truly I miss it
wish I could write without judgement on my tail
but there she is
always tugging at me
pulling me back
reminding me some wells run dry
she says I’m full of dust
and I cough
a puff of smoke
and a dried out metaphor
call it writer’s block
that showed up in 2020
like the virus attacked something other than my lungs
what is a virus that pulls away at poetry?
that steals art to hang on no ones walls?
and if a painting crashes
you swear nobody hears it
and if a poet stop getting on the mic
you swear
no body...

do not punish yourself for taking a chance on the idea that taking out of you that which shouldn’t be there could bring you relief.

you chose for the knowing
and you chose with the hope that you were doing a good thing.

that your body was traumatized every month and that maybe now, without these extras, it could relax.

you chose to remove that which was causing inflammation.

your body right now, is healing.

your body right now, is inflamed.

if there is pain, it should be of no surprise.

give it time.

and if time comes and still, then take this as an opportunity to build compassion for yourself.

for the parts of you that said yes.

even when parts of you said no.

there was no clear pathway, and you are not to blame.

you chose what made sense.

and now you must heal.

and now, the choice was not wrong. as it will not be wrong tomorrow or a month from now.

you...

Sometimes love pops up in your top 10
then quickly evades it
hit refresh, but still love’s face doesn’t show
and the work must go on
but what if?
maybe nothing.
but what if?
maybe something,
once upon a time
until time passes and love,
circles back.

As the saying goes
let it go
and if it returns
it’s just pretty damn persistent
but if stays
if it stays you can’t help but wonder
what would this life be like
if you missed?

But it found you.
Like love has a knack for finding everything
look up
and love is holding your phone
look up
and love is holding your keys
look up,
and love
is holding a spoon.

How love is a story told,
how it starts
over a bowl of soup
she, reaches out for bean sprouts
and basil leaves
slowly tears them apart to release their flavor
and he
follows suit
they drop jalapenos in the water
and heat builds between them.
Give them 95...

I wanna fall in love like it’s magical
like every moment I didn’t have you was only a test
and though patience
was never my virtue
I waited anyway
to call you happy ending
to make everything ending before you make sense
every regret
now triumph
ever decision always made in the right direction
I call you true north
but still fail at cardinal directions
gps my way to you
even if all the roads have messes
we still end up here
just maybe not on time
I burn candles at the alter
pretend every woman has a witch inside her
wish upon shooting stars like
just one more will do the trick
but the city lights make magic
impossible to see so
11:11 strikes
and I rewind the clock
11:11 strikes
and I rewind the clock.

she decorates her space with paintings
she painted for her grandma
but when death came
she took these parts gifted and hung them
on her walls
paints her nails black most times
but also enjoys colors
decorates and redecorates walls
moves desks and lays down rugs
returns rugs for her toes crave more softness
thinks about standing and sensitivities
reminds herself she’s not crazy for wanting her toes
to rest on soft landings
justifies how many hours they will remain
and how important their comfort is.
She decorates time with laughter
keeps time with people she feels heard with
and with those who also ask for her ears
sometimes,
poems pause the moment from A to B
gives her A.5 and something to share about
decorates time with dog walks and performances in her office
for only herself and a mic that’s never been
plugged into a speaker
calls it practice
as she sleeps she dreams...

they say love can move mountains
I assume
I am surrounded by the sea
assume
love can too, swim
but don’t know, really
which is easier?
is it hiking
until oxygen barely pulses through veins?
or head underwater
gasping
is loving me
worth the danger
of you running out?

falling in love
wraps me up in all sorts of
everything
pulls me up to the city sky
and I look down at all of it
glad to finally be away from it
love
pulls me away from it

has me think
down
is never a place I’ll wander to again
until down
is the space I’m looking up from
wonder
where flight and butterflies
go to die?
wonder where we go to mend the pieces?

love
never again
tell myself
love
only slower next time

take love lost
as lesson
love arriving
as warning to slowdown

but love is often fast
often skipping
knows only on
and off
and nothing in between

I say love
next time let’s be friends
let’s visit the city sky in the daylight
let’s hike to the 13th floor
so we can remind ourselves
heights like these take efforts
and it’s much better
when you can feel sturdy
beneath your feet

but love
doesn’t always listen
I mean I
don’t always listen