Monday, June 29, 2015 poem

I write 
a lot of love poems
sometimes I think 
all of them are 
Just love letters
love letters to each other 
I'm going to 
keep writing them 
I'm going to 
serenade the air with them
I'm going to 
fill my life with them
We get to 
love a few other souls
In this time that we are here
Before we 
move on to the unknown
We get to 
learn how to love each other
through learning how to love ourselves
We get to 
learn how to love ourselves
through learning how to love each other
Love lifts us
even if just for a moment
so we 
stand up straight and tall 
and see
that we 
truly are
And that is something 
that should not be left 
to sit in silence
All we 
really want to do is talk to each other
listen to each other
in as many different languages 
as we 
can learn
and my goal is to be 
a shameless polyglot
So I will not be 
about how many napkin verses I jot
about the singsong flowers I brought
about the jade polishing 
forked tongued stitching
velvet forging 
verbal battles I have fought
I will 
write them everyday 
Different ones
The same ones
rearranged ones
unchained and untamed ones
out-loud and with-out 
even one ounce of shame ones
secret and only floating on the wind ones
blushing and shaking
Anais Nin
insanely inflamed ones
Again and again
I will 
not end 
my time here
without making sure
that those whom I love
can be 
sure to 
hear me
I will 
repeat myself
Without tire 
Without regret
Lest they forget
I will 
endure the eye rolling 
the sarcastic smiles
the self conscious discomfort 
I will 
always remind them
by writing poems
Love poems
Love letters to each other
That will 
without doubt
pass through my lips
and my eyes
and my fingertips
All we 
have to do 
to love each other
is talk to each other
No detail spared
As long as it takes
As gently 
as you can imagine
For we 
are only here for a little while
We get to 
love a few other souls
In this time that we are here
For just a little while
So here is 
another poem
Another love poem 
Just another love letter
That I 
wrote for you

Sunday, June 28, 2015

etching ink on acetate

Brand New

She always feels brand new
A puzzle I want to solve 
and again
I want to get it right
crack the code
find the combination
But then 
every night
I want her to change it
every day
I want to do it all over 

I show her my insecurities 
my eccentricities 
the holes in my heart
One by one
layer after layer
deeper than I have ever been 
brave enough to go
And somehow 
she still sees the good
and I know that I am good
But through the details
of conversations
mutual navigation 
the smallest interactions
she helps me see
exactly how
I can be

And still I want
I will always want her
It is the 
most powerful force
that I have ever felt 
in my short life 
thus far 
It pushes up inside me
out through every limb
Every fingertip
Every goosebump
Every breath
A feeling that I love
almost more than anything
It is the creative force
It is what drives me
it is an experience 
that is not to be driven
is not driven 
it is ridden 
You must let the present 
take the wheel
Sit in the passenger seat
beside it
Stand in it
Lay entwined with it
For driving is dangerous
It is a task 
a job 
an accomplishment
If I am too focused 
on the road ahead
like a good driver should be
then I speed past 
what brought me to this space 
in the first place
The way time slowed down
almost stood still
when I looked into her eyes
The way I could feel the air 
all around me 
when I sat next to her
The way my ears warmed 
from the sweet vibrations 
of her voice
The way my mind 
was finally soft 
with my heart 
The involuntary reaction 
to be tender with her 
was so strong 
that it overtook 
That strongest gentle
it is the 
most powerful force
I have ever felt
and it always remains
underneath all the rest
It makes me slow down
exactly as I need to
Fast is the part of me 
that I don't want to be
I want to bask in my slow motion
A movement I am reminded of
every time I swim
in her deep ocean
With every crashing wave
that washes over me
so completely 
she makes me feel
like I am 
brand new

Wednesday, June 10, 2015

Nothing to make up for

There is no woman 
who walks this earth
that needs to wear makeup. 
There is no skin that is flawed.
No feature out of place.
Shape and contour
are never less than 
only full of grace.
A woman is.  The.  Most.  Magnificent. 
Of all that is created.
Stress and pain 
may sometimes 
be injected
into the surface of the skin
but even then 
kinetic energy 
gives way
in the end
to the softness that remains.
A tender heart
always lives underneath.
Open arms 
are ready to enfold you.
Gentle eyes wait
on the inside.
A Soul
holds the power
of ocean waves.
The weight of the world 
can wear anyone away
but it is the change
the journey brings
that pulls the loveliness
out within each she.
The strength of a jaw
next to the wisp of an eyelash.
The soft of a cheek
turning into twisting tendons 
that run down a long neck.
Circles of hair
playing peekaboo 
with spirals of ears.
Silent endless depths 
about which 
pupils speak.
Waltzing circles 
that each pair of lips
glides through 
with involuntary choreography. 
How shameful it is.
What a crime is committed 
when the truth of beauty is distorted 
by the thought that
ANY of it
should ever need 
To be covered.
Not seen
in the clearest daylight.
In its fullness, 
its authenticity,
its priceless nakedness, 
In the details of the life being lived.
Sorrow wells up at the thought 
of not knowing by heart 
where all of the skin spots have grown 
over the years 
and exactly how the smile lines 
connect with the crows feet 
when my absolutely, stunningly, gorgeous grandmother
sees me 
and tells me




that I am beautiful.

I wish for every woman
to know
that joy.
I wish for every woman
to feel
that love.
Maybe then
Every woman would know
that there is nothing 
they need 
to make up for.