We Also Live

Today is the one year anniversary of the passing of my mother-in-law, Tami. I don’t really know what to say about it poetically or verbally, or really even with prose. Other than I understand how limited our time is here, how brief our relationships with other people can be. I can’t say I believe in heaven and hell in the traditional sense, but I do believe in life after death. I do not believe that we return to nothingness and blackness after death. I believe in the separation of spirit and body, soul vs. matter, etc. Tami left this world at far too young an age, undergoing much suffering, surrounded by those who love her. And she is missed every single day. But I know she has moved on from this place, and is hopefully in a better one in some capacity. I don’t care what people label as cliché, I am starting to realize more and more than every day is a gift and we should make the best of it and find joy and love each other — at the very least, be nice to one another — and just be the best human being we can be. And I know this is easier said than done. We all suffer, we all lose people, we all get sick — we all die. But we also live. And love. And leave our marks on others. And create. Hopefully more than we destroy. We all put up pretensions, we all have reservations, inhibitions. But we can all stand to grow and open up and be free. And I believe we forge strong enough connections with certain people, and we will always be together with them in one form or another. We all suffer, we all lose people, we all get sick — we all die. But we also live.


Beach Bodies

At the beach
sifting thoughts
like sand
through toes
staring at bodies
that are not my own
admiring some
censuring others
we are a judgmental
hermit crabs
ready to ditch current shells
for ones more habitable
dipping toes in
complaining of cold
desiring the sea
in land-locked state
of mind
some have
no oar
some have dragon boat
some have wings
& some
are trees
some feel nothing
others everything
some, they feel complete
’cause waves
can never stay in place


See it
is difficult
to transcend these pronouns—
no that is an understatement
if I
ever fucking heard one
How do we separate
this bone and meat and gristle
from spirit soul & whistling
Do you hear it?
spitting in your ear
When your head is down
When you think you are
on the way out
Try and ignore it
Try, identify with
slab of meat
on steel cold counter
Will you find your self
swirling down drain
I do not think so
I do not stake my claim
in rotting in
rich soil
feeding worms
& plants
I will not resort
to becoming
I do not
this return
to dirt


what will you do
when you find it?

Will you swish it
around in your mouth,
savor the taste?

Will you spit
or will you swallow

Will you compare it
to past experiences,

Will you consume
it all, to last drop
and still desire more?

Or will you be whole
and perfectly content

Or will you stay a hole
a cavity, a fissure
a cemetery plot never to be filled

what will you do
without it.

Solstice Fire

Feet firm
hands grabbing
from sky hangings
master crafter
spreading roots
extending branches
admiring from afar
dissecting from within
navel gazing
rocking through the waves
this dual sea
rowing with splintered paddle
rowing nonetheless
waves crash
mist upon face
warming hands
inner flame
(in her flame)
releasing pain
& pleasure same
these friendships
are the skin
the tendons
keeping bones
in place
the marrow
this is fire
it is food
warm your hands
upon it
burn your bad
inside it
breathe the smoke
and see you free