We ruptured hastily from la tela collectiva the same way a drop of blood emerges from a small puncture wound –round, wholly, and bright-hued.
Yes, we bursted slowly bajo el sol que todo alumbra hacia la sanidad needing no reassurance to which direction to take to. (We know, nosotros sentimos el flujo y el ritmo de esta vida)

Where is the steel wire brush that scapes at the red rust like a doe silently drinking water, or still quieter flowers that sway in the pondering light of another city, with another language covered by the mortar of another, where people built cities too. Who is still up in Glasgow staring at the moon? The river Clyde is below me, and the seagulls dance as if they were drunk

Opera and Pansori are like the olympics of singing

You walk and breathe and claim your stake on earth
with every blink
the sun arises and sets
For you I grieve that I cannot
come

Dear
I think of ways I can be close to you
without betraying myself respect
but my brain is still loading
like that of an old 90’s Macintosh
the kind I grew up with

My unprocessed layers dance over me
I peel and peel and try to take off each layer
and the anger fades, and there is no blame, and there is space
and there is a vulnerable heart
who does understand and just wished to also be understood
and cared for not divided by a line
or relegated to the outskirts as I felt

there sits a weeping part that needs nothing but to be acknowledged
and I sit with it granting its wish

You are carrying the frame an old  brick house of pressure determined
to go in your intend direction
your quest to get ahead
in life blinding
you are too busy to stop and really see
all the growing things
still you ride on with your oversized load over the highway

what song can a bell make
that does not pierce the heart

(what melody can I sing when love entangles me to form
music does not need to be seen, so why do I gulp at the thought of their deaths)

They are standing on the hills behind me each one
but now I am standing on another

I climbed this mountain up hand in hand with him
this mount that then became a mountain is now becoming an Everest, my love full so full it overflows and drips  as compassion

I think you would find me silly
for closing my eyes not just for the purpose of sleep but for the purpose of seeing your face in a lucid dream

Dear Dark Brown Eyes,

I  am glad something brought a wave of joy over your  countenance bubbling up as laughter. You deserve the clearest balm to ease your sighs and sorrows. And the warmest of hands to hold yours when evening envelopes the mountains
And the river that divides the north and south of Seoul is frozen over

My dear brown eyes, whatever you decide is yours to decide. Who you pray to, who you love and who you’ll be as the years go by
are all YOURS,
like the chirp of a bird,
or the song of a swallow
it must feel natural to you
and only you can hear it as it perches



MINE. My song calls me to you.
To sit by your side and to meet you once the the sprouts root and grow green,
past the frozen ground onto pathways which the light of spring is to reveal

Who you’ll be then and how you’ll feel
I will respect. The vines grow in many directions in and around all posts, fences, names and memories. They can become nuisances or the fruit for fine wine.

The great thing about getting older is that you start finding out what you are and what you are not
and it does not mean you  cannot cultivate what you lack nor does it connote any amount of permanence it’s just that you can finally recognize and now start
from where you truly are
with a clear view over the land
and you just have a better sense of the territory
you have a better starting point that’s all; that’s what I like about getting older

I do not always have to do it alone
I always felt I had to but I am more open to receiving help now; I am more open to resting my head over a shoulder and admitting my own limitations
I am not ashamed of being imperfect I am blessed by it because I can see that I am just like everyone else
and I like that ordinary people can do extraordinary things together
nourishing one another for as long as skin, body, and who knows maybe even spirit goes

This beautiful teeming orbit is not ours to take care of
it is us
“We breathe together”
it is inseparable
you and I
, it –our fate the same

I want life to flourish
and so earth must sing
i want a shift
a second coming of a loving consciousness
not as some man or some messiah (stop limiting divinity to human figure)
but to have us recognize it in the entirety of life in its miraculous omnipresent light that indeed does shine permeating all

At the foot of a mountain, I come to bury the ashes of all my past lives. I come in joy to lay down what sorrows were of old
to empty my heart as if it were a pail of water to be soaked up by the earth below me

to build another mount to honor all the challenges that like rocks struck skin
those difficulties that winded across time and felt like chains
but that were really sections of a map
that were really my healing under a long period of time  
that were a gift worthy of receiving

I come to sing and play and love and be under the moon by the mountains as I commence the burial of all which weighed me down

When people give their hearts to poetry, to music, to dance, to art–
to the arts
do they know they are giving themselves back to life
do they know that there is no separation

“I am__” does not matter. You are life

I can
always feel you
in the center of my chest

    I can feel your longing
and I can feel your sorrow
as-well as your love and joy

Don’t you know— I ask you to be well
because I can sense you
             less than hour ago you were here
at center of my costal

Lay down the thoughts that are like smoke
hiding the reflective mirrors of doubt.

Rest your mind well
and ease the racing predictions,
scenarios of doom and possible gloom
that chip away at good things.

Soften your glare,
here,
there is no need to worry,
life has already been so much worrying

This is the point you rest, rest deeply
in your hope

I refuse to be snarky
to sit in a room and poke fun of others
intentionally
to complain and complain to no end

I refuse to tear people down or roll my eyes at them. I just rather sit quietly and read my book. I want this space of mine to be calm and joyful.

I think of my shrink
and think of my friends
and I think of everyone
who told me to erase someone from my life
to be brave
but now I understand
forgiveness is greater
and that I should always trust my heart
no degrees in human psychology ,no pep talks, no one else’s guidance will do
at some point your being is your only compass

I look at the tree and see my lovely leaves
We share life together their bark makes that part of the world and my body makes this part of the physical world. “Oh my leaves :))”  what do you think when I stare at you with such joy in my heart ?

I carried the grocery bags to my car,
while the divinity of my spirit carried me
within its bag swinging me back and forth, through a parking lot that was no less divine than the snot running down the nose of the little boy being pushed on a cart while his mother made her way into the store.

I am like everyone else and because I am like everyone else I am beautiful.

you must look at things for what they truly are
just as naturally as sunset comes to the day
you will face night; call it “night” no need to wrap it up and make it tidy

I have no intention of ravaging
through the piles and aisles of consumer goods in my mind

No ravenous hands that will do the hunting
deed and feed a primal thirst of mine, aching
to satiate a beast from an old fairly tale

Long, long ago is over. Long long ago in a faraway place
is no longer here and now, there are no beasts
except the ones I indulge and tonight- the room is empty

No high wall outside my window
just a half moon of solitude
and its ray of acceptance shinning through

Marina left and at first I thought she was out picking berries, drifting under the canopy in the forest, but at last the june birds cried and her absence was louder

realizing only then that each step she took
had taken her farther
            My Marina was out of the forest
and although there was no knock on the door and no ring was presented by a striking suitor, I felt
as though at last life had come for her hand

How can I become more of myself?
What can I give?
Have I given enough ?
Whose eyes should I borrow ?
And what shoes should I walk in ?

Judgement does not keep company with truth;
Have I cleared my mind?
Have I opened it wide enough ?
What perspectives need to be placed down?

yo y los girasoles
amamos la luz

los girasoles y yo
retoñamos naturalmente

in all the in-betweens where i tucked my notes of sorrow
                        I have set little fires that

i move around putting out fires from year to year

Silence as you gasp and before you scream

Silence

A sigh is another place in which one can find the quiet residence of a lexicon

In complete silence women pray;
some do so in the zealous quietude of their rooms
where the silence is like a mime
sending only signs

Silence comes while the musicians wait attentively on their condutor to count them off

Silence is what we endure
when we believe we do not have a tongue


Silence

When a moment is full of beauty our mouths and minds lay cusped in that second’s ineffable existence

Silence

The great friend of fools and the great companion of the wise.

We looked at the state of our nation and there was only silence

what followed was drowned out by all the noise in a place
where there was no room for silence

The sun is already within you
yours, no key, no code, no price
no person, nothing stands between you
and the brilliance of your sunshine
you are forever endowed with its warmth

She crosses bridges  (they are not to be venerated)

"She forgot God," the old man murmured, when she did not want to enter the parish.

It had been many years now, that the “what will they say" had become a spider web–ancient and swaying in the wind.

She knew that bridges are necessary.

“You have to cross bridges
but you shouldn’t venerate them ”

Her mother taught her that only God is to be venerated, but perhaps venerating  was not the point, “you have to cross;  you have to be in communion” she thought

Inside her chest she had found a corner where her soul would dissolve, and mix with the infinite energy of "everything"
and no religion would deny her that

And although the old  man knew about bridges he didn't know how to cross them.

The afternoon was slowly becoming evening, and Fatima decided she’d best stroll back home and enjoy to the fullest whatever daylight was left.

you are across the street
and so am i. we are walking
in the same direction. the sky is dimming preparing its arms for the dark lull in
which only stars sing.

the people sauntering
around us are their own celestial bodies detached from the outside world
in their mind, inside their screens– far, far away.

we pass them on the street towards
the same place light years from one another wondering if I tilted my phone and aimed it’s reflection into their eyes if they’d receive, if the speed of light can carry my message.

Soy una nube
y soy también el sol

Soy la belleza de la vida
en forma de mujer

Soy un pedacito del planeta
–otra hija de la tierra

Soy caracol
bacteria
infinitamente inseparable de nuestra biografía existencial
–pequeño polvo eterno flotando por la atmósfera del tiempo

Vengo de lo que ha sido y será

It is just that I want to do right by this girl (myself). Nothing is worth her peace of mind and nothing is worth chasing after to the point of exhaustion. She needs true love and she needs inner fulfillment. She needs to keep her spirit oiled –and her garden nourished.

They grip at me  
Two fists snuck into an envelope of soft words
I get “Adjust” instead of its harsher
commanding counterpart “change”
(“comprise”  is in absence in this conversation)

But I see my grandmother smiling
And great grandmother dancing
And all the womxn that have made me
appear from behind the mesquite
emerging from the thick wilderness of time
to transcend
to bear naked their wisdom and  grant me their heart

Their dance swirls within me
Their smile leaps
reaching through flesh
like a ray being emitted from my inner cove
To materialize over my face

And I can sit calmly and confidently
Smile And say “no”
“You cannot dance with me.
Go!”

I decided I am going to be wonderful
whenever I can
and that what people say or project on me is their dealio

I hand you a flower and you open your palm and place a coal stone

I smile
after many years your flowers were pressed
died and combined
made dark but I do not just see one
I see the bouquet you gave
(The years and the darkness of soil mixed with all the gentle things in your heart)

You are becoming more beautiful
not because more people like you
or because more people agree with you
You are becoming divine
because you are in the closet pulling down the cobwebs
In your home, brewing your tea to cultivate moments of attention
in your heart adoring what great effort
you body makes to keep you here
you are beautiful because you try over and over see the miraculous

Dear love could you see me with new eyes too
could we clear the slate and I could I love you
as I have always longed to love you
I forgive and I wish to walk down the narrow streets with you

And if he does not feel the same
I would understand
but I needed to be brave
because it means so much to me
he means so much to me
everyone has got their things( their no to great traits)
but i don’t need someone to put on a pedestal that is not what I am asking for

I am asking to see you further for who you are

And there
and here
I transform
what you give me
all the splinters
****** to open
a small surface protruding
into my life
but with intention
find it laying over a flower
Over the smile of a stranger

Once upon a time there was a mirror and
I spoke to it the cursed words
“Mirror mirror on the wall”
and it spoke back to me “ yes”
And I asked it “what is the fairest end to this all”
and it responded “nor I nor mother time know, we appeared just like you”

(The mirror grew silent and then recited to me “earthling, earthing on the other side what’s is like to be alive” and I awoke)

I scrape old paint off of my forehead's wall
I am smoothing it out as we speak
I got a new finish-my words of self-love are the final varnish

pela noção de que todas as vidas são criadas iguais
                                             Abro a boca,
                                           movo as mãos
                                e canto na direção do futuro
                                   porque na minha mente
                                           a visão é clara

the verandas come to us and the sweetest smell cannot be dispelled from the california orchards blooming,
each season has them blinking food
into existence
and the momentary insects, birds and grown children pick the ripened seeds to nurture their bodies during one rotation of the earth around Huitzilopochtli

I have hugged a three thousand year old redwood tree and asked it to remember me
someday  tree will use marrow, absorb my nitrogen,  my iron that I grew accustomed to seeing in my youth drip red drip
every month clearing my ****** to grow its own leafy children
I will be locked in it’s green splendor
come spring and summer
and fall I will die again as I did before, and in winter I will disappear as I have done before o my to defy death with the help of my ringed friend. We together. A redwood in my heart my heart in a redwood

i cut my hair so that another
girl who had only been an earth for a few years could carry
its softness and know someone would
give whatever she was not born with
this world would offer itself to her
cradled in her bed wherever she was
....
i forget the many times
i slept in other people’s homes
or had to leave mine as a child
those many times were coiled and repressed
pushed back into a box like a jack
...
my youth is here present
i mingle with it
and forget it is not always going to be here
and i hear the world is not kind to older womxn
but hear from older womxn those years are the most fruitful; there, they are their most powerful
and like the promised land i want to rush there
the way i used to want to rush towards death
and none of them will do when the early morning hours come
because i just want to be here
cradled in my bed wherever i may be

Just appreciate your youth
go wear silly & funky stuff, cut
your hair ,change your hand writing
go for a new pair of shoes
Dang, pick a favorite new color every week
until you cycle through the rainbow
and then do it again
change what you think young is
Pull of the masking tape that says 20, clean off the sharpie lines that read 40, laugh at the fact that next it you wrote 60, baby head for the jugular and once and for all liberate yourself, no age is the right age
for feeling youthful and fully alive
no age comes with requirements

We went surfing as a team of five
out into the water helping each other know when to catch a wave

we floated over the waves
and we fell often,
I fell often
always just 3 feet from the shore
everyone kept trying
and we cheered for each other each time one of us rode a wave

and every-time the waves were too strong that it knocked one of them over like rag doll
I saw their head emerge again from the water their arms reach for their boards
we failed together many times
but still we stuck together
in their bruises a similar purple to the one in mine