Your Thoughts, In My Words

Take Into Consideration

A Special Thank You to Sophie Egar for hosting me this past weekend. A spiritual rest that has given so many wonderful reverberating gifts long after leaving. May God bless your journey to Indonesia and keep you in good company with new friends in the place of a thousand islands.

a tree in the summer

its a sound that a baby makes its the leaves that rush in the empty wake its the waves that burn across the face its a tree in the summer that remains to stay its a coffee pot that almost empties its the water that fills my cup that kept

(i)solation on the mount / Sanctification

(i)solation on the mount unbridled by pain i can not count the cost of what defense bills pay away so i stay awake, in the lane God gifts to you this half empty vessel tormenting languorously in the living room sounds of a heartbeat dies like the sun into

The Best of You (Cascadas en Abril)

Chai Moka Chino Latte I figure all the words that she'd say Run down the tip of your tongue To remind me of the turning of your iris A four year scroll papyrus paper of a shell Wrapped inside a bottle awashed on the bed Of a sea

Timing

His head hangs low, cold wind brushes against chapped lips There is a bird inside that no one will see or ever get To and from, to and from, and to and from Our messages are sent i feel guilty for messaging someone who i don't know even

A Stream of Consciousness in New York

Today is Monday. The noise from the train drowns along all other sounds. But the music from my headphones outstretches the pace and rhythm outside my ear canals. I find that my quiet solitude sits in a tightly wound juxtaposition. That time moves at a rapid pace and few can

Tuesday Cool Runnings

Nigel humming a tune along the bar line Stella & Fly's around before nine Sipping an Earl Grey and I am feeling fine The air covered with heaviness Hey hey jealousy, thank you for passing by Cinnamon sits inside my cup to guise And take care of the

Pacienca

When you ask God for patience God gives you the gift of waiting And the waiting Goes against our erroneous notion That time is ours A possession of sorts that escapes us with effervescent fervor I lie to myself thinking I can place the idea back in a thought box

Ennui

[A story about the first time in Monterey, and every other place I've lived since then.] When the disgust sits in At the bottom of the well There, a stomach twists to fit the mold We lose sight of trying to find ourselves There is a point where

The Unimaginable

Walking across a desert Pumping plasma from underneath your veins To make it work for the bills You kill to feel anything at all Then you call and listen to the only voice that makes sense anymore I have been hiding the score So you wouldn't notice who

An idea for spring #1 (late night scribblings)

Getting started again.

Enough (to free you)

This poem speaks to that unmovable force in our life that is hard to describe with language. But, ultimately, with time and grace, allows us to heal and experience love within. This is an ode to that unmovable force.

I Don't Know

In this way, I dedicate this to all human beings. A confession of all the reckonings in these lines

Mango y Café

An ode to my mother and to all mothers. On this beautiful morning, my mother made me a simple spinach omelette, with mango and coffee. My hope is that this poem warms your inner soul with strength in your days and you feel the motherly love wherever you go. Gracias a ti.

and(y) things happen.

Andy moves into a New York space Where the emptiness spills Can provide cheap thrills and hot dog stands With undefinable loss and coins tossed Into cups of hungry faces unmanned Andy misses his toys and cases Wishes he could grab them back from the shoebox wasted And curls into

Ten O'Clock Thoughts

Sometimes I can feel my heart bursting I want to be near you That is not possible now Here in my thoughts I carve out the boundaries of what is and never could be And the room is getting smaller and smaller I'm jumping up and down and

Marigolds & Wine

For context - Leo & Karina are characters, characterized by time and subconscious thoughts. This is the only way I know how to move on. I've tried everything else.

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Vida en Color

"Do you know how to dance?"     Yes I do. "Well then, dance with my eyes." Introdução  I sat at my bedside. And considered all the possibilities. How the day would transpire... What did I want to do? What did I have to absolutely do. And what

Losing Sleep.

There are thoughts that go unnoticed Time lost to no one A river stream that shows The long and windy, I must stay If by some chance, I lose some sleep If by chance, I can't find it I wanted you to show me the room Where I

Weight (wait) + (way) out = Perspective

I have been running with no way out The weighing out of decisions Weighing me down with imprecision Paths of thoughts of patterns reconditioned If I chose to not choose at all Would I risk losing someone for fear of not seeing how I bleed internally? I hear the air

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without.

Feed back the fruit loops in morning bowls Off the diving board, inner ceiling pool and I slipped silently into Two years, and a seismic difference Dropped off in the deep pacific, no specifics When my pieces were swept away, after school In New York, I went from automatic to

Walking In The Kitchen

I would walk to the refrigerator door Nothing fancy Just a look inside A peak into an unknown light that lay before me The curiosity spiked across the neurons and electricity building inside I reach for the filtered water A familiar taste As I stand pouring into a clear snifter

How To Reappear Incompletely

And so, what now? Which road do we choose to walk on? When the sun rises and I no longer enjoy the sight of my shadow. The thought of consuming and this never ending thirst for various desires brings me to a bridge leading nowhere. I have shared love, or

candela.

Where to take poor Candela? When you become this still red room Would you choose to believe In make believe? Follow a light that doesn't lead Where then, does Candela sleep? Mr. Nobody – sitting in the corner of my room Nobody cares about the Ohto ink pen bleeding

The Long Walk Home

4th of July, 2019. Monterey, California.