a whisper is the loudest thing in a shouting crowd.

retro

I suppose if good bread
is yeasted and raised
punched flat
and kneaded
so many times
before it can be
baked

and I think if
good strong
alloys probably go through
a similar process

and if glass is
tiny shattered rock
rinsed by
countless waves
melted
cooled slightly
and reformed
as many times as needed

why would I expect to grow once
and harden and keep
shape?

glass houses

My wings dig deeper than my roots
My soul is made of glass
I don't know how to hold shape
I don't know how to last

Anything familiar lies beyond my grasp
My fingers never can hold fast
My heart is grounded on the wind
I don't know how to stick around

I'm always shattering
Im always melting down

Find myself someplace strange
Only recognize the things that change

and when I'm brittle and cold
and when I awake rearranged

Older and green again

a tree story (draft)

Once upon a time in any place,

there lived 

a family of ancient beings 

who for so long had grown into their own

that they had all forgotten that they were family.

Only the mother remembered.

She said,

“children, 

I know how to feed you

and I have taught you to nourish each other.

every year there is winter and every so often there are lackings,  

some caused by us and some that just are.”

She said,

“I have leaves in warm weather

and if the sun is beating you down,

rest in my shade.

If you have nothing to eat, you can eat my leaves sparingly.

In good times, 

I give you fruit 

my newest children are in this fruit, 

save the seeds where you go and I will always be with you. If you plant a seed stay to watch it grow or leave it what it needs.

The time may come when 

you must take my branches for fire to stay warm.”

This saddened the children, but she showed them how 

to gather the branches she cast down or lost to the wind

and they burned them near enough to her 

to feel close but far away enough 

to not catch her wholly afire. 

The mother 

she showed them the dance of the weather to warn strangers 

(and new beings, for they too are strangers) 

about the  innate dangers of a place.

if the sun is strong, face your leaves to the sun and lean into the earth. Show the weight of weightless things

if the wind is strong, let it carry the tender parts of you, and grow strong into the push of it.

if there is little water, follow it deep with your roots and settle them where it does

if there is too much water, lift your roots and raise your base. send them wide and then deep or you will be washed out by only a little current. 

your age will show in the patterns 

and the patterns will show the trends 

they all looked at her and saw her ancient patience in her many changes. 

each growth showed a story of the time when it was greenest 

and the oldest changes seemed to merge

at times she seemed to do nothing and say nothing

but she was only living quietly.

“If,” she said, one day when the souls were arguing,

“If you don't learn to lean into each other 

you will never be held up

and if you try to live without each other

you will lose your most precious resource.

there is permanence in nothing 

so hold fast to the things that change you most

When the green is gone, it may be a season of cold and sleep 

but don't burn all of the dry things 

because even seeds need mothers.

If you are thirsty, remember that everyone has thirst.

If hungry, remember that everyone has hunger.

Give what you can spare

and keep what no one is using

but always absorb and give"

this to her was breathing

but it only looked easy after millennia of practice

exchanging what she needed for what she gathered but didn’t need

she did this with everything

the wind carried her

the sun caressed her

the earth held her hidden and delicate parts

the rain washed away 

and into her

and her grand children 

drank in her breath and trimmed the 

parts of her she didn’t need

and planted her seeds

she made a great show of not needing her leaves all the time every year

and groaned under the weight of her fruit

so her children didn’t feel so bad snacking on their mother. 

rootbound mind

the pot my thoughts are in
is too small
my root bound mind is
aching
dreams of digging out and down
are circulating
my soul is sitting on itself
in
the crushing weight of needing to expand

twisting and winding myself into a basket
I'm choking on my own desire
to learn

I'm not wilting
but I'm stunted and everyone keeps asking me
why I'm holding myself back
I'm not I'm fighting to break
the thing that is holding me in.

Imaginary Friends

Dear '.....',
We're so out of touch
I've been hiding behind
My guilt
And fear
And distrust
But I need you so much.
I've been yelling at you
Angry
And hurt
Asking why you won't love me enough
But I've decided that maybe
All my reasons
For explaining you away
Maybe I can't hear you
Above all my
righteous noise
So I'm gonna stop talking at you
For once
And just listen.

one day you will read this and wish you wrote the letter to yourself

To: someone important.
From: a poet
"................................"
-Signed, Self

anywhere but

I,
for once, have nothing to tell you.
The silence, ringing loudly
says enough.

hotter

That bitch in the mirror,
you know her better with the war-paint on
lips redder
cheeks pinker
hair perfect,
taller in those hooker heels.

Her slightly sallower self
with the under-eye darkness
is no secret,
and even tho you love her better
when you're in bed

it's this girl you chill with.