Forgive me. I once struggled to understand. What happens to a body When it’s no longer in the form I’ve been taught to know and tend a body. Forgive me. I’ve since learned That it can live in the wilted bed of morning glories. It can shape-shift from seed to womb to light. It will…

If the river don’t rise I’ll come on down the mountain. Show up with all the grit born into my bones From a life of bologna sandwiches angry men and the kindness of neighbors. I know how to show up. I tried my hand at Granny’s potato salad for you. If only you could see…

Remember early summer afternoonsGathering honey branches?Carry them forwardin the folds of your light body.A feathered lanternAllowing its wayInto this unknown.Carry themAs they warm the wayOthers have walkedOthers have carried their heavy selvesInto the dark wombTo lie down and listen.

Remember that summer that came in so hot.We stripped down and ran to the river every day.We gave up on workin to bathe one another’s tired bodiesBaptize ourselves in the Holy River that runs wide through our mountain valley home.Remember how we gave up on owning our plot to sew our post-pandemic seeds together?20 seconds…

Do we not sow our seeds into once fallow soil with hope for what could be born?Anxious with the knowing of what has come before, with its wet roots outstretched.With its tender off-shoots of joy and sorrow.Sending themselves upwards and outwards.Against all odds into an unknown sun.And we return to nourish the composted darkness with…

Do you sometimes rise at 3 a.m. with us and wonder– where to stretch the tips of your celestial body when it has outgrown its shell? Do you look around and find the slips and circles of us glittering and glowing in our amorphous forms? Perhaps catching the thick of one piece in motion the…

Swaddle me in deep swells of the sea. Allow her wet blanket to fold over, under, around each crevice. Scrubbing the society clean. Returning me to salt brine and grain. Warmed in the origin mother. Touch candle to womb fire flame.

Summer’s natural gold. Showing off that quiet power Teaching those who wrap themselves in glitter, try to outshine the rest About that gentle way. Turn the speaker down to hear it now. Rockstar. Pay raise. Number one what they need ya to be. All that shine. All that show. Fill that role. Make that dollar. …

The afternoon opens with a pink, hazy light. Inviting us into its expansive wardrobe. We undress, allowing the soft of our amorphous forms to bathe in its ephemeral cotton candy bubble. Slipping out of stockings, tall boots, and top hats. Abandoning all “respectable things.” Breathing into this unsuspecting invitation. Allowing all our shapes to move…

I guess a lot could be left unsaid. And we could dream into the gray area between what I could have said and what you thought I meant without saying anything at all. Let’s do that. Allow our bodies to writhe and whisper sing our stories in motion. Walking to the mailbox Closing the door…