Monday, December 30, 2013


"You think this is just another day in your life, but it's not just another day. It's the one day that is given to you today. It's given to you. It's a gift. It's the only gift that you have right now. And the only appropriate response is gratefulness. If you do nothing else but to cultivate that response to the great gift of this unique day, if you learn to respond as if it were the first day in your life and the very last day, then you will have spent this day very well. Begin by opening your eyes and be surprised that you have eyes you can open. That incredible array of colors that is constantly offered to us for pure enjoyment. Look at the sky. We so rarely look at the sky. We so rarely note how different it is from moment to moment with clouds coming and going. We just think of the weather. We don't think of all the many nuances of weather. We just think of good weather and bad weather. This day, right now, has unique weather, maybe a kind that will never exactly in that form come again. The formation of clouds in the sky will never be the same that is right now. Open your eyes. Look at that. Look at the faces of people whom you meet. Each one has an incredible story behind their face—a story that you could never fully fathom. Not only their own story, but a story of their ancestors. We all go back so far.  
And in this present moment, on this day, all the people you meet, all that life from generations and from so many places all over the world, flows together and meets you here like a life giving water, if you only open your heart and drink."

Wednesday, December 18, 2013


Cigarettes are burning on my porch.
There's champagne in my orange juice.
Morning poetry—
it's moving day.
We're going.
We're going.
I'm going.

Friday, December 13, 2013


thrill used to be
in a trampoline
and chasing sandals
down flooded streets

I didn't know it was
freedom until
I started having to

Wednesday, December 11, 2013


I was on a run in the late afternoon. The rain had passed, but the sidewalks showed where its presence had been. I was careful, conscious of how the bottoms of my shoes would do against the icy pavement. It was my first experience jogging in true winter temperatures. My focus was taken away. It was led to the fragrance much like the one of my grandmother's cabin that sits on Mt. Graham, the highest peak of the PinaleƱo Mountains in southeastern Arizona. I followed the scent, allowing my mind to take the nostalgic course. My mind fled backwards into a youth of pinecones and tricycles and dirty cheeks as I, now much older and somewhat tainted in comparison, jogged forward into an unknown second, every second. It wasn't so bad being back there, tucked into a warm nest of family, card games, sugar that didn't make me sick, and my very own bakery that specialized in Mud Pies. The ice under my feet began to feel dangerous again. I continued on, running further and further away from my bakery—in time and in character. I continued forward, growing older.

Sunday, December 8, 2013


following your gut 
means swallowing
a load of cash
and turning around

but you do it
she's right,
the essence of life

Friday, December 6, 2013


I lied in the bathtub
isolating body parts
big toe
moving them just slightly one by one
once the water was still again

the water rippled off of my every move
I watched it dance around me
begging me to do it again
as it would calm
I would
big toe

the symbiosis of our movement—
despite the contrast—
fed me much thought

the missing piece to my
tango orillero was now

Tuesday, December 3, 2013


I forgot how long the days become
without the touch of your fingertips
atop my cheeks, down my thigh
across my back, lining my spine

the seconds melt into hours
my sheets open up like the sea

I wait and wade
and wade and wait
for you to drift back

so we can

Sunday, December 1, 2013


aching from the gut
hidden on my skin
reminded of
the gap between
where I stand and what I desire
a bridge binding their distance
patience is gathered
like glass
when I run across
ache in my gut