now give

the last five days I've spent destructing my histories: fashion a school dropout; almost a housewife; daughter, sister, lost friend. haunting streets I used to know, I find less and less worth holding onto but this right now.

I sit, drink coffee, smoke cigarettes; Seattle has changed, I have too. 

love's ability to slip into forgotten cracks feeds my bones and sunsets awaken my yearning for fingers on skin. 

chapped

five stops for fuel, three cigarettes, one sugar-free redbull, nap, five hour energy, smoothie, raspberry yogurt, and 615 miles later I arrived in Portland.  

riding my motorcycle all day through endless construction zones and the heat in full leathers leaves my ass sore and my hands calloused. my ears buzz and I am chilled, happily exhausted, and ready for more. though the future is unknowable, I am, in this moment, content. 

adventure sox and all

stardust

shambles made from the bits of straw and string, a feather I found along the creek, decorate my life. packing it all up in my mind, the magic, the memories, the kisses captured by starlight, I move out across the unknown.

strength comes in form, beauty holds the space between our breath. every night I pray to fall in love again with all of you. 

salt of the earth

there are times

when life tucks surprises

in boxes

one hundred dollars

found secreted away

long enough to be forgotten

friends

who are more than family

my backbone, wishbone, heart

sign waves

we move into focus

before the shift

sends us back

From Today Comes Tomorrow

I move and shake and dissipate

edges of

molting purple green

garish bruises

left to wonder

to whom

rowdy, refined, resplendent

July breaks open. a thick hot blanket of air hangs heavily over the valley. the potential for oppressive heat is sweltering. instead I think about the end of the day and how ill slip into the cool of the creek and hang myself out to dry.

I am working endless days. the languorous nights are skin and sweat and bodies finding creative ways to touch innocuously. laid out on picnic blankets surrounded by empty bottles of wine and half turned glasses legs and arms and bellies melt against the earth. we are all too young too hot too blurred to remember names. I light another joint and lay back staring through the olive trees. 

spoils

A friend called today

I answered

We spoke

Our lives contain each other's

We talk about men

We laugh tears about men

these hands belong to me

digits attached

move mountains

suffering complexities

I abide between the lines

left unwritten

mumbled into pillows

yelled into my helmet

while I ride the twist turns

of river road

sunset

a few Mondays back

the only mantra I knew

reverberating the face shield