i hold this in my mind.
after so long
i found the string;
the one i pulled
which broke apart
the pattern.
i fumbled for it
for sometime,
sitting amidst a pile
of threads
hoping and praying
i might find the end –
that i might find
the beginning.
now,
i can start to
reconstruct,
to interlace the threads
and weave a new
pattern.
i want to weave you,
your life,
into this.
to entwine us.
how do i ask?
i have tried.
i have.
the fibers of this string
are so worn now.
they are delicate.
i am delicate.
a body hardened
and a mind so sharp,
but my heart,
…my heart.
i have started
the pattern,
i have reached out my hand,
offering you the thread
so we can
weave together.
but i stop,
i have seen this,
i have felt
this.
i withdraw.
i weave through my heart
and mine alone.
i need to knit this
for me,
just for me now.


i want to arrive.
is it again
that i desire
to do so?
or have i
been here the
whole time?
i think i’m
just stubborn,
perhaps.
but who was
i then?
fingertips trace
soft skin
that has aged
so much
over just a few years.
gray hairs and
wrinkles,
eyes that pierce
even my own
being
in a frightening
and beautiful way.
i would be okay
arriving alone.
and i would be okay
returning alone.
fingertips
wouldn’t trace
empty sky
and these beautiful eyes
that pierce would
be just for me.

i wore a jacket
to drink my coffee
on the deck
it was cold but the sun
was beautiful
it was an autumn sun
one that breaks through trees
and highlights
golden leaves
and crimson leaves
i’m not sure
what else i want in life
i’m not sure
what else i need
i have climbed
my mountains
i have seen
what i need to
it all returns
and arrives again
crimson leaves
and golden leaves
will turn to lush green
and return again
to autumn colors
i would be content
to sit here
drink my coffee
and watch
and be

but a day ago / I am not me / a year ago / then a total stranger / to both you and I / it’s so beautiful / wrinkles that were once loved / are simply reflections now / just that / no longer a measurement of time / a measurement of longevity / i never knew desire / a want like this / a wish for self / me now for me / wrinkles measuring a life well lived / a reflection looking back / loving every mark / as simple as that / has filled me with me pleasure

in my mind
there is still warm sun

not from today
or this year
but from years ago
another lifetime

i can still remember
the cool tip of your nose
pressing against my cheek
followed by warm breath
and then a kiss

this is how it happened

illness has left me empty
all this has broken
and scarred
and worn so thin
all that i was

I am now
down to a single thread

but in lunacy
i’ll still hold
this one event

the cool tip of your nose
pressing against my cheek
followed by warm breath
and then a kiss

all of this
will drive me mad

i am ok with this
i have made peace
with losing everything

but not the memory
of warm sun
and a cold nose against
my cheek
not of forgetting warm breath
that spoke a language
without words
and of a kiss
that didn’t leave
with everything else


i think we’ve
seen this before
haven’t we
looking for shadows
instead of flesh
trying to hear murmurs
rather than words
i have tasted
the salt of skin
and heard the
echo of whispers
but neither
have a pull anymore
though the emptiness
jabs with such
bittersweet needles
my solitude presses slowly
the emptiness of time
to which i have
grown so accustom




a wind moved through me
the season has been changing
i’ve seen it in the sun
and felt it in the air too
i went to look
at the full moon
the other night
they call it a corn moon
it arrives during harvest time
the algonquin tribes
called it that
or so i’m told
that’s when the cool wind stirred
and moved through me
like a breath
a sort of whisper
fleeting
and i said aloud
to no one
i am just endless husk
no harvest hands need come
to take me



i don’t go to church anymore
but that’s not what
this is about
i won’t write about religion
i won’t write about
how it tore me
apart inside
or a god that
supposedly judged me
for everything
everything
no i don’t want to write
about that
i was invited to go
to church
a family friend asked
me to take her
so i did
i stood like a statue
not bitterly
not angrily
just waiting til it was over
i always found the rhythm
of a church service interesting
sitting
standing
sitting
standing
this is what i was thinking about
when an elderly couple
in front me rose for the
100th time
the woman assisted her friend
to his feet
he stood with great difficulty
slowly rising
his body curling upwards
bone by bone
maybe it was her lover
or friend
it doesn’t really matter
the gesture was so beautiful
and kind
so giving
so completely selfless
i thought
as i also rose for the 100th time
this is why i came today
to see this
it had nothing to do with god
nothing to do with
religion
it was its own religion
its own faith
within that simple gesture
was god

spring came. 
each year i wait for it,
i want it,
i am thirsty for it.
then it appears like a magic trick.
that’s how it is, right?
grey skies,
brown leaves,
dead grass.
then green –
a green – so green – so green
it’s fake.
that’s how it is, right?
we forget in the same way.
a memory with talons so deep –
so deep – so deep
it can’t be real,
then they’re gone.