What if the Future is Soft?

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…

Into an Unknown Sun

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…

Stretching Your Celestial Body

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…

Held in the Origin Mother

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.

We Natural Golds

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. …

Remembering Our Way

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…

Left Unsaid…

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…

Our Communion

The coffee made early morning rests cold in the french press. Waiting our communion Not myself and the coffee, yet all the parts of me circled in grand reunion. Small me with strawberry pants and Tonka Truck carrying Barbie in tow. Chubby me squeezed into tights and taken to dance to explore life as the…

Patterning a Calmer Pace

Remind me how to slow down she said, because I desperately wish to move slower. So slow I feel the tips of my feathers as they touch into the wet grain of this riverside. So slow that many winters of woodsmoke are released when I walk. My feet golden coals in no hurry to burn….