what goes around

it’s the phoenix’s fire
burns irregular
blue and safe
it’s protective

so enter the ring

I am rain
when it’s night
the grove sings

I am peace
when all’s said and done


enter the realm of my mind

they say the way to my stomach is to feed me divinity

but what does it take to find the way to my mind?

my mind is like a cake and not everyone can bake, so you see the issue here is how to gain exposure to the vulnerability that quickly manifests itself;

dawdling around aimlessly like a limping child –

and it cries out in starvation for contact and knowledge but will not let anybody in

the dilemma here is that there are carved out crevices that belong to those who hold pieces of my heart while my heart is an empty cavity that’s bound to erupt, implode, causing my rib cage to splinter me

but wanting to know and wanting to be known are two separate primal drives:

the first will help enhance the second, but first I need to take a second

to figure out where i need to lay my sheets and remove my shoes and undo my hair and feel a peaceful “home”

it’s not all linear, unlike what i was taught so i am in the middle of a journey with no end until the end of my journey leaves me dead

about her

tell me more about her

as if i didn’t already know of her tremendous impact

she laughs with her nostrils

a certain flair billows from her smile, showing no gum

we were strangers in eternity but for one calculated bond forged by literature, laughter, and our womanhoods

she would grumble and i would grin

we sought hidden corners and would converse for hours

i miss her straightened body that spoke of protection and comfort but, and she told me, had never been experienced 

and i am enthralled by her memory

four years later and she will come to me in a dream

and the dream is sensual, but indifferent to eroticism

it makes my heart burn! why!

she will twirl on a pedestal, a fragile ballerina, plié, like on the stage in the setting of an encapsulated, translucent globe

her inexperience is not with herself or her confidence 

so enamored 

i scream and reach for her, “come to me,” to let me see her with my embrace

but the pleading is hushed by the rippling energy that weaves and hums from her as she smiles, but blank, unaware of my presence through the looking glass 

i scream

i scream

and i love her. i decide to fall back

the best life she could ever have is one without me. her brown eyes close, her nudity becomes draped with my twin size duvet

she fades 

a longing, unfulfilled by choice, that has driven me mad will continue

an addictive prescription

may i 

i sit crossed legged at my therapist’s office 

“tell me about how you are doing”

i don’t know. heart broken for nostalgia. 

the memory of a person, lost. 


a je ne sais quoi that je ne sais que seule

i fear that the best day i’ve had since my wedding will be counterbalanced by a worse day than when i had to watch my father die

i felt the sun on my face for hours at a time

and forgot my depression, for that while

felt beautiful surrounded by the remaining azaleas 

even the empty japanese pond, with a single, lingering koi had meaning

i want injustice resolved

and respect repaid

i want love to feel good within me

find something to give my whole self to

may i?
an entire cosmic aura appeared to me at night

helped me hold against the quagmire’s fragility

shielded me against the miasma of repression; my shield, of all ironies

and made my temperature mild and bearable while i slept 

and maybe it was the voice of God

and maybe it was my own ego

but i truly, truest, true

encountered serendipity 

and Diana danced with me, laurels included

but tell me, tell me, tell me about how you are doing

“tell me about how you are doing”

“i’m fine, thank you.”


sometimes i mourn you like you’re dead

by chance, our last glance is burned in my mind

and when you disappeared when i needed you most

i kept dreaming of you. and the dreams were soft. 

and you smiled at me and maybe forgave the me who you thought I was

maybe it would be better had you actually died

because i miss you so much

because i want you so much

i hear a voice, passive, passionate, and wonder if you still do art

i had to give away the painting you made for me

because dreaming of california freedom is punishment 

and i will arrive on the mountain range without you

and california freedom will be my prison

26 untitled (2016)

The first time the traffic light turned green
Seemed obscene to me
And I went and it meant that I had reached my peak

A weak week left me on my back and knocked me off my feet and you reap what you sow but can you sow what you reap?

This is the last poem of 2016. I’m going to get started on typing up poetry for 2017 that I have written down in journals.

Thank you so much for being on this journey with me. Please, do not hesitate if you’d like to see my poetic opinion on anything.

25 the subtle way things change

The subtle way things change

The subtle way things move around unnoticed
Switching a book on the shelf
The pile of socks is one sock larger

Something left unhinged
A towel folded horizontally
Being unable to smell out one nostril

Rewatching your favorite show
And noticing a new detail

How do your bones crack in the evening and the morning?
When the sun sneaks up and away from you

A kiss a millimeter to the left
A belt’s forgotten notch

Maybe an itch you’ve never experienced
Or the sensation of relief afterwards?

Did you feel sadness for the first time?
Can you remember the last memory the same?