the storm in me

bubbling up but not boiling,
below the surface, but overflowing
the insides of me have been turned out
a new sensitivity to light, air, touch and sound

my eyes are always squinting lately
there is so much out there trying to find a way in,
much more than I am able to give access,
when did these bridges into my heart burn?

the storm is on the outside of me,
rain and fire churning for my skin,
I am raw; not clean but scrubbed,
I am closed, but the door is leaking

I was healed once; whole and solid,
contained like citrus fruit in a thick, shiny casing
still soft and tender, but full and earnest
luscious like lavender; clean with scars faded

the storm is now on the inside of me,
clouds loom in my belly, gray and heavy
waves crash my blood with fervor,
tides rise and recede with extreme measure

and I am riding this storm knowing
knowing the sun can heal me
knowing the clouds will clear
knowing the ocean cleanses
hoping the ocean cleanses
hoping the ocean cleanses with the salt on my skin
                and on my heart
a salt scrubbed heart that’s clean.

flights home.

pulled back into a potpourri of shifting memories
countering movement towards forgiveness
trust is the wavering unsettled ground of a new tree planted
dirt fluffy and easily disturbed, but new and fresh deep forest fertile

my heart often catches in my throat
like seedlings pushing up; searching for light and moisture
I hear words growing in my mind
each time you tend to my roots and stroke my leaves

opening, opening in warm summer dew,
looking, looking for an abundant season with you
hoping each new light brings vibrant depth
reaching out to touch each branch left

seasons blend as each comes to an end,
unknown is always qualified to outcomes
lost boys can sometimes be found, but change runs deep,
this is the rhythm that slow moving ever-shifting tides reap

wanderlust brings in other shadows of color and gray,
is the search ever really over
or are we just taught that over is like forever?
did you see the screen shift and the next scene get set –

all the things

so many places on your body; all the places infinite discovery
hands over scars, mouth giving the essence of senses absorbed,
every sense and heart pull,
          pulling me
              pulling me in

flickers of awkward insecurity offered; a flush on the table without any bet or call,
raw and real; contained and centered
vulnerability offered like winter salt water meeting bare skin
open and coated with radical honesty is the place we find each other

finding, learning, soaking in your layers,
skin, muscles, hands exploring
nourish bodies, souls and feeling…filling and offering collective warmth
giving is…filling

chests touching, legs swarming around peaceful silence
body intimate knowledge seems sacred
I want to find you over and over and over

my senses meet and quiet
as your kisses sing a melody my body can only dance to
and for some reason I know, I know there is room here
        for all
              for all the things

(december 2012)

gender labrinth

I am in a gender labyrinth and I cannot get out.
Everywhere I turn “WOMEN” or “MEN” faces me.
Every hall way contains her, her and girl over there.

Inescapable like a breath you can’t swallow but won’t exhale.

I feel stuck, but it’s not me – it’s the structures around me and I know it. I know it’s not me. I don’t fit your fucking binary and you don’t know.

Usually, I can navigate this gray knowing my body is a challenge to the constructs we build, that have been built, that are suffocating yet invisible.

I feel so unknown..
Yet knowing.
I feel undefined but
constantly given definition.

My gender is a labyrinth that even I don’t know all the twists and turn to, and today I am lost – I am lost in the little kid at the mall kind of way, no parent in sight and panic filling my throat and veins.
Like twilight doesn’t quite know day or night but might be a distant metaphor of both.

Just like I am neither man nor woman but a distant relation to each and something else too.

I am not a lady. And not in that misogynistic defecting from your club kind of way. Like you saw purple and said it was green kind of way. I want to hold up the ladies and admire their power and knowing – knowing I’m part of you, but not you, and not different and not the same..

Not the same.

a statement full of fag

a face full of expression and
brilliant animation as emotion
has arms and legs and a voice,
loud and amplified,
shiny, sparkly, springy
buoyant words

expressions for words
hands are talking,
a language of wrist snapping,
air moving,
happy dancing fingers are excited
and you know it because it’s all electric.

hips play a game of coy, shy and suggestive
sexy, effeminate and juxtaposed against a masculine backdrop
of delicious contradiction well dressed,
well groomed,
no other word but pretty will do here

many more things

many more things

skin delivered, smooth terrain for
hungry hands, thirsty eyes
drinking blue framed by dark, looking in,
looking beyond

knowing comfort, giving comfort,
coming back around
each turn, each yield
each second guess of wonder

did you know of the hope to come
connection sealed into bodies reaching
arching one over another and i
found comfort in the pause between us

i found sanctuary in providing it,
in limbs relaxing into others, in the skin we shared,
the skin we marked, owned and left black, blue and yellow
each day fading from the past yet refreshed anew

energy held, fleeting at times, yet consistent
i was consistent.
hungry approached, solid and unwavering in my own self knowledge
the clear lines of my heart, mind and body remained intact
remained unperforated yet permeated and open to them


hopeful excitement
unrevealed journey
incandescent crossroads to forge
stillness in order to connect

sitting between teetering inroads
building curiosity meets anticipation
thrill sits as precipice in my throat
hesitation is mediation; moderation to keep me on the ground

blessings come multiple disguise
asking, asking, accepting, grasping,
uncover, reveal, open, shine
forgiveness, allure, exploration, decision

many things

landing off the places I have been before
new ground to move across
peaceful, inner self solidarity in unfoldable measure
a full embrace; stories told, nothing for loss

piercing and immediately poignant
a natural flow moving, pulling like taffy,
forming, expanding, sticking to me
an adhesive of tangible, forceful and immediate gravity

the attraction dripped off my senses,
hesitation erased, quickly replaced by truths teetering in my thoughts
then words spilling off my lips
wanting to be caught up to the boldness resting between us 

                              surely as your hands made contact, my sensations tumbled.


                  don’t let it end here.

I couldn’t let it end there
I wasn’t about to even pause
your questions, my anomalous self-disclosure
excited calm, open connections made no flaws

syncing skin beautiful touch
desire clenching my throat and chest
your affect heavy and thick like purple,
my response strong and fluid like press.


staring down at me
a blended feeling wrapped in a package I have not fully seen

wonder awe wonder awe
where might this turn
knowing way gives unto way
never prepared
always ready

that electric and energetic pull
such a drug
such an intoxicant

taking up
giving through

show me show me show me

i will take you
there is no rejection here
music to my ears
a special kind of boi
one like you

colliding energies
even the idea excites
raises awareness
opens a door
inviting a mystery of sorts

bandwidth fits attraction
is masculine you
this could be trouble
a very good kind of trouble


up against bodies firm
muscles oh yes muscles
delight anticipation

slow slow slow
not too fast
enjoy relish delicious

Your Diverted Path

Over as in beyond, how does that apply to relationships?

Do you ever really move beyond someone or do you just divert paths...what was once side by side becomes deviating trails - each to create a singular path between different trees, around and back under the same sun.

Or no - since apart, a-p-a-r-t, means "not whole" or unhinge...what does it mean really?

A consious choice to not have daily contact, to not elevate anothers existence into the forefront of awareness - what about emotions?

Just a pool of collected raindrops ever falling from the storm of connectivity.

Do we ever really come clean away?

Impressions are always made; lives touch lives and we are never the same but always the same two-fold.

GROWTH...a journey, a search for self, solid always appealing. So many endings - so much letting go, how loss brings gains has become clear; I am just tired of the struggle of finding comfort and releasing it back.

But hanging on tight is not an option either.

I cannot "contain" another, only offer temporary shelter, momentary safety - each has their own plight for sanctuary, their own search for what fits inside the breath and bones of a singular soul.

I offered an anchor, but the waters were cloudy, unsettled - self counldn't see self - the imagery aside; new lands awaited discovery and it is a solo venture.