Avalanche Gardener or The Slow Migration of Change

The slow migration of change sometimes begin within waves which look like endings. Or in this case snow tracks on a northern slope that suddenly descend into hardy dirt paths- overlooked & abhorred for their non-eloquence. But sometimes the dirt is where you find yourself standing. There’s nothing particularly pretty about soil on its own….

Brand New Person or Same old Mistakes?

I lied about not being afraid. Not on purpose, because I truly wasn’t afraid to leave everything behind and embark on this journey. I’m laying in a hammock- realizing I planned to have a home, physical possessions, royalties, a new life to return to and won’t have any of it. At least I have this…

From Queer to Some Eternity

I feel like I am fulfilling my purpose, that the muses flow through my penstrokes. I wrote a book that I am proud of, run-on sentences, and all. To what extent or success or dustbin acclaim it may achieve- I know not. I know it the fullness to where my path is leading, except I…

Gimme Shelter/Walking on Broken Glass

While here at this beautiful sea, during this time of ‘wait and see’, I published my first book- my life blood- 6 days ago. My wallet was stolen 2 weeks before, and while waiting for my 401 check to clear my physical possessions were sold off to strangers, 4 days ago. I should’ve budgeted better…

I Left my Heart in Mexico City

My last day in Mexico City, and the fountain at Plaza Luis Cabrera, the place where Jack Kerouac and the Beat writers found their inspiration- has been drained. Tonight the celebration de Virgin of Guadalupe continues while the wellspring of intellectual perspiration has run dry. It seems symbolic. A secret bidding to leave- hidden in…

Setting Free the Captive/Free Man in Mexico

I am sitting at a bench in Chalputepec Park overlooking the lake. My edible is kicking in. I only have 6 or 7 left. The day is beautiful. Sunny with a cool breeze. Children blowing bubbles, laughter and hundreds of voices heard in the near distance. I believe I’m supposed to stay in Mexico for…

This Harvest Of Woman Born (Part Two)

A farmer plants his seeds knowing in time green stalks will rise.
Bury your worries in the secret garden
Herbs burst from soil, strong and unbaptized
In time fall wind blows away all blooms
Your children thrive in houses and streetsides.
Each a thread woven in a street beggars’ looms.
Our blood is mixed with your’s flowing and entwined
as an ancient fermented wine these streams have flown born in eons before our own.
Through thousands of lines Children, birds, & trees
keep finding a different way to shine.