where

where
do I begin

along these empty lines
to unfold the days
lay them out on the desk
in carefully crafted phrases
wind them in delicate circles
around my body
tucked into a thousand pieces of paper
waiting for the north wind
to catch them through the window
beginning
with hope
laughter
in the fresh crisp air
days stretch over rooftops
long lines left by sunsets 
and shadows
waiting for the sky 
to change
dust collects on shelves
decades old
while I sit in the half light
listening 
to whispers 
and heart beats
holding joy 
before it fades

~

la 2021
Advertisement

turn the dial

turn the dial
as the sun passes
the window
orange glow
soup heats on the stove
I stretch my arms
to wrap around
the empty space
empty embrace
before me
fluorescent light 
distorts my reflection
lines point
in different directions
around the eyes
don't know where to look
to find the truth
which line to step along
or trace
night creeps up
onto the windowsill
perched just outside
looking in

~

la 2021

intersection

lines on the page
drawn with a careful hand
outlines move
in slow curves
to the centre
crossing over
in unexpected intersections

blank pages slowly fill
colour pulled by sunlight
sneaking through cracks

we are okay alone
living
in the corners of our soul
but
together is better
when the lines meet
before 
continuing
on

~ 
la 2021

your voice falls

your voice falls
over me
like honey
from a spoon
held high enough
to slip down 
to cover
to soothe 
to calm
me

I breathe
again
for the first time
not realizing
I had held my breath
for years

breath comes
dressed in laughter
in tears
in healing
in freedom

an unintended gift
perhaps
not understood
it does not matter
now that the cage door
is open
I stretch beyond
what I bowed to
and gather 
torn pieces
in my arms
ready
to
fly

~

la 2020

the pause after the end

the pause after the end
leaning into another beginning

that place
I want
need
to step into it

fold my body
fold my heart
fold myself
to curl around you 
to hold you close
to me
and be held
beyond the edge
of myself

but
like a thousand steel needles
I fear
if I close my eyes
I am lost
alone 
bound and torn
into slim ribbons
of existence

I hold myself out
to where dreams thrive
and follow me
like music
through the trees
ask for nothing
in return

just a pause
before 
~

la 2020

I have let these threads

I have let these threads
weave between us
in loose and fragile patterns
that complicates itself
in the futility of existence

I go
and return
to you

as the sun passes the window
pulling light into corners
where it has not 
touched
yet
before leaving
again

I wake
and sleep
not moving 
in this isolation
allowing
what needs 
to
be

I have let these threads
weave between us
in loose and fragile patterns

I have let these threads
remain

~
la 2020

I have not loved you

I have not loved you
in the first 18,471 days
I have known you
not once

I have not felt 
a tenderness 
towards you
or felt compassion
in seeing your reflection
or cared for you
before another
not once

I have not walked
through my soul's estate
wondering what I
could do to care
for you more

but now, 
here we are
in conversation
for the first time

~

la 2020

182 days

one hundred 
and eighty two days
blurred together
like paint smeared on canvas
like a photograph 
left too long in the sun
like gibberish dreams 
that fill the night
nothing makes sense
silence binds isolation 
with threads
left dangling, untended
to knot in the early fall winds
introspection 
dances on the edge
with uncertainty
avoidance brings inspection
and distraction by the hand
but I... 
I sit with you, love
and wonder
what you
will teach
me

~

la 2020

the second girl, waiting

torn fabric lets the light in
old curtains hang on the windows
slightly askew
she stands there 
the second girl, waiting
with her back to the wall
leaning into the moment
one hand braced behind

light becomes distraction
playing along the wall with abandon
the second girl shifts in place
watches the shadows join in
to stretch and pull the hours 
that are left in the day

they walk in, hand in hand
He looks around the room
the second girl looks up
tilts her head to listen
they stand too close
talking about their lives
he laughs too loudly 
she knows he watches her
over his wife's shoulder
trying to catch her eye

Watch hands march slowly
another second, hour, minute, month
passes filled with quiet laughter
love exchanged like secret seeds on the wind
the game stretched thin 
to inevitable fading pale light at dusk
She reaches out to hold nothing 
in her hands
Memory and a handful of words
left to float in the ether
No one knew the thread between them
delicate
untouched
unchecked
uncut
undone

She stands there, the second girl
alone with her thoughts
unclear in the aftermath
what remains 
unsaid
lost
forgotten

She remembers
the scar of a tear
she made
in the curtain
made to let the light in

she remembers
always being
the second girl,
waiting
~

la 2020

enough

I turned just far enough
in my chair to see
through the window to the trees
outside as the storm pounded
the concrete with surprising fury
lightning cut the sky into white ribbons
thunder echoed between the buildings

I thought
not moving
about where I stored the candles
should the power go out 
again
what would I do in the morning
if the power still is not on
and I have to work?
I cannot leave the apartment
anxiety mounts
it still storms outside
inside

The power is out across the street
I watched lightning strike 
straight down to the ground
like an arrow
alone in the darkness
I go into the other room
to find the source of a beep
I hear every time more lightning hits 
I ask myself as I go
why was it not enough
to just turn 
and watch the storm?
~

la 2020

apology

I wandered the unused path
heavy and overgrown
looking for small opportunities
to see sunlight overhead
something to guide me forward
but each step betrayed me
drawing blood 
warning root and stone 
to hold me still

night apologized for truth
only opportunity
the past undressed 
bare, empty 
unwritten by the moment
do you remember? 
the darkness asked 
and I did

day apologized for truth
beautiful inevitability
one after the other
lifted from the page
like a butterfly flying 
on beach sand in the summer
then with the wind
dissolves to nothing
do you remember? 
the light asked
and I did

In turn, 
I apologized for truth
for wandering, 
for rising and falling
like a breath over my lips
clearing the path
untangling the roots 
and sitting in the sunlight
so you could find me again

~

la 2020